He hesitated, and I set my hand down first, making sure my thumb and pinky were on the center glyphs for connection. The cool stillness of the glass seemed to seep up into me-until Trent's fingers touched the etched mirror. Jerking, I met his startled gaze, sure he'd felt the zing of energy leaving him. "You're connected to a ley line?" I asked, not needing to see his nod. "Um, let go of it," I said, and the faint seepage of power ceased. "Thank you."
Satisfied everything was set, I reached behind me with my free hand to touch the ring of chalk. "Rhombus," I said, wincing as my awareness found the nearest ley line. It was all the way back in St. Louis, thin and weak from the distance, but it would be enough.
Warmth textured with silver poured into me, and Trent sucked in his breath in surprise, connected to the line by way of the mirror. A molecule-thin sheet of ever-after rose up, arching both overhead and underneath, within the earth, forming a sphere of protection. Nothing stronger than air could pass through except energy itself. The sheet was colored with the gold of my original aura, but the demon smut I'd accumulated over the last couple of years crawled over it like arcs of unbalanced power, looking for a way in. At night, it wasn't so noticeable, but out here in the sun, it was ugly. Looking up, Trent grimaced.
Nothing you've not seen before, Mr. Clean. Looking up at a car on the interstate, I took a deep breath. There was no better time to do this, but I wasn't comfortable. Trent, too, looked uneasily at the forces balancing between us, and I dampened the flow until his shoulders relaxed. My thoughts went to the energy I'd shoved into the assassins under the arch. There was no way all of that had come from Trent, but I didn't think it had come from the assassins, either. What had he been doing with that little cap and ribbon?
"Okay," I said, starting to fidget. "What's going to happen is that I'm going to light four of the candles. Then you say your words. I'll register the curse, and we're done."
Trent's gaze flicked from the index card to me. "That's it?" I nodded, and his attention went to the candles. "There are five candles. Do I light that one?"
"No, it will light on its own if we do it right." The wind brought the sound of pixy laughter to me, recognizable but faster and higher than Jenks's kids, and I inhaled slowly. A quiver went through me. I'd never shown anyone outside my friends that I could do demon magic. But Trent was looking at his card, squinting as if he didn't care.
"What does it say?" he finally asked.
A flush warmed me. "Um, bella usually means beautiful, doesn't it?"
Trent scrunched his face up, clearly not knowing, either, but I bet he'd find out thirty seconds after he got to his phone. "You want to wait until I find out?" I asked, already knowing the answer, and sure enough, he shook his head.
"It doesn't matter. I want the mark off. Now."
Yeah, me, too. Jittery, I looked at the candles, hoping they'd stayed put. The curse didn't physically change anything or break the laws of physics, so the smut would be minimal; Nature didn't care about the laws of demons or men, only her own. Break them, and you pay.
"Ex cathedra," I said, carefully scraping a bit of wax off the first candle at Trent's right and holding it under my nail. I didn't need a focusing object most days, but I wanted no mistakes in front of Trent. Thinking consimilis calefacio to light the candle, I pinched the wick and slowly opened my fingers to leave a new flame. Ex cathedra, "from the office of authority" I hoped my pronunciation was right. It wouldn't mess up the curse if I was off, but this curse would be registered in the demon database, and word would get around.
Lighting the candle had taken an almost minuscule drop of ley-line force, and I met Trent's startled gaze. "Ceri knows how to light candles like that, too," he said.
"She's the one who taught me," I admitted, and Trent's frown deepened. Guess she hadn't taught him. "Rogo," I said, lighting the second candle on my left. I am asking, I thought, watching until I was sure the flame wasn't going to go out.
Trent cleared his throat at the rising power, and the hair on my arms pricked. "Mutatis mutandis," I said, lighting the candle to my right, continuing my counterclockwise motion. Counterclockwise. This was really wrong, but it was for a good reason. Things to be changed.
"Libertus," I said as I lit the candle to Trent's left, almost completing the circle. Just one right in front of him to go, and if it didn't light on its own, then I was in trouble.
"Read your card," I said as I stared at the unlit candle. "And for God's little green apples, don't blow anything out in the process."
Much to his credit, Trent didn't lick his lips or give any indication that he was nervous, and with a smooth, enviable accent, said, "Si qua bella inciderint, vobis ausilum feram."
I felt a sinking of self, and my hand pressed firmly into the glass. It was as if the world had dropped out from under me and I was suddenly not just under an abandoned building's overhang in the middle of nowhere, but also in the theoretical black database in the ever-after. I could hear whispers of demons talking through their own scrying mirrors, sense the bright flash of a curse being registered. The double sensations were confusing, and my eyes had closed, but they opened when Trent roughly said, "Nothing happened."
Dizzy, I tried to focus on him and the fear behind his anger. Clearly he wasn't feeling the same thing I was. "It's not done yet. I have to register it." Heart pounding, I closed my eyes, praying this wasn't going to swing around to bite me on the ass. "Evulgo."
I stiffened as a flare of ever-after shot through me, and my eyes opened at Trent's hiss. "Keep your hand on the glass!" I warned him.
The four candles went out, the thin trails of smoke and the scent of sulfur rising like curls of thought to heaven. My gaze went to the as-yet-unlit candle. Please, please, please...
Relief pulled the corners of my mouth up as the last candle burst into flame, covering the scent of honest sulfur with the acidic, biting scent of burnt amber. "I pay the cost," I whispered as I glanced at Trent, even before the smut could rise.
Trent grunted, his free hand clutching his shoulder where the familiar mark was. A wave of unseen force pulsed out from me, breaking my circle as it passed through, pressing the pixies into the air, and heading out in an ever-widening circle. From inside the abandoned building, something crashed to the floor. Still holding his arm, Trent looked to the gaping windows.
I let go of the ley line and took my hand from the scrying mirror. It was done, for better or worse, and I lifted my head and took a deep breath. I didn't know what Trent would do, and it was scary. From the car, Ivy called out, "You good?"
Trent's face was empty of emotion as he turned where he sat and pulled his sleeve up, twisting to see on his arm where the mark was-had been-I hoped.
"Good," I called out to Ivy, my voice cracking. "I'm good!" I said louder, and she slumped back into the seat. She'd felt it. That was curious.
Trent made a small noise, his expression ugly. "What is that!" he exclaimed, his face becoming red as he twisted to show me his arm, and my lips parted. The demon mark was gone, but in its place was a dark discoloration of skin that looked like a birthmark. A birthmark in the shape of a smiley face. All it needed was the phrase "Have a nice day!" tattooed under it.
A mild panic hit me. This was so not fair. I had done the charm-curse-whatever-right, and I still ended up looking like a fool.
"What is that!" he demanded, the flush rising to his ears. From the open field, the pixies rose high then back down.
"Uh, it looks like a birthmark," I said. "Really, it's not that bad."
"Is this your idea of a joke?" he exclaimed.
"I didn't know it was going to do that!" I admitted, voice rising as I shifted to a kneel. My foot hit the mirror, and the candles all fell over, the one going out in a puff of smoke. "Maybe it's so the demons know to keep their mitts off you!" Oh my God, it looked like a smiley face.
He sniffed at it. "It stinks!" he said. "It smells like a dandelion!"
I closed my eyes in a long blink, but he was still there when I opened them. "Trent, I'm sorry," I apologized, hoping he believed me. "I didn't know. Maybe you can add a tattoo to it. Make it something more butch."
Trent wouldn't look at me as he got to his feet, his boots scraping on the cement. "This is clearly the best you can do," he said shortly. "We have to get going."
"You're welcome," I said, peeved that that was all I was going to get out of him. His becoming my familiar had only been to save his little elf ass. For my trouble I'd gotten my head bashed into a tombstone. And now that I'd gone and added more smut to my soul to break said familiar bond, incidentally giving more ammunition to the coven of moral and ethical standards to use to prove that I was a black witch, all I got was "We have to get going"?
"Have a nice day," I called snidely after him as I shoved everything into my shoulder bag. Standing, I started to follow. The sun hit me like a heavy wind, and I bowed my head, wishing I had another pair of sunglasses. They might have a pair in the gas station, but I wasn't going in to look. And I wasn't going to give Trent his back, either.
Trent's pace was stiff as he walked to the car. I turned to the nearby field, squinting for Jenks. Not a wing caught the light or broke the stillness, and a sliver of worry colored my anger. "Do I smell better?" I heard Trent ask Ivy sarcastically as he got in the back of the car.
"I liked the way you smelled before, Trent. That was the problem."
I dumped the candles, transfer media, and finger stick into the barrel with Trent's bloody shirt and our trash. Tapping a line, I made the appropriate ley-line gesture, and with the final words, leno cinis, I threw a ball of unfocused energy in on top to get the entire thing burning. Flame whooshed up, fueled by my anger as well as the demon curse. Ivy looked at me through the open window, her eyebrows high as I destroyed any evidence of us and the curse.
Without a word, she started the car. Hands on my hips, I looked to the field for Jenks. A sneeze tickled my nose, and I let it come, hearing it echo against the broken buildings. My eyes narrowed, and sure enough, I sneezed again. There was only one reason I sneezed more than twice in a row, and I held my breath until the third one ripped through me.
Damn. It was Al. Maybe he'd felt the familiar emancipation curse being registered.
"Ivy, we got a minute?" I asked as I tossed my bag in through the open door, then sat down sideways with my feet still on the cracked cement.
She knew what my sneezing meant, too. "A minute." Still reclining, she honked the horn. "Jenks! Let's go!"
The tightening in my gut eased as Jenks flew up, a veritable cloud of pretty dresses and flashing wings left hovering forlornly over the meadow. "Crap on toast!" the pixy said, his long hair loose and looking disheveled as he straightened his clothes. "I think I almost got married."
There was a flash of red on his feet, and as I placed the scrying mirror on my knees, I blinked in surprise. "Where did you get the boots, Jenks?"
"You like them?" he said as he landed on the glass to show them off. "Me, too. I told them about you, and they gave them to me. They think I'm some kind of wandering storyteller, and it was either take these or the nasty honey made from sedge flowers." He made a face, his angular features twisting up dramatically. "What does Al want?"
I sneezed in the middle of saying, "Three guesses," and he took off, flying to the back to show his boots to Trent. "I'm coming!" I shouted at Al as I placed my hand on the center glyph and tapped into the ley line. Feet in the sun, I set my thoughts on Algaliarept, his ruddy complexion, his overdone British accent, his cruelty, his crushed green velvet coat, his cruelty, his voice, and his cruelty. He was nice to me, but he really was a depraved, sadistic...demon.
"Can't you do this while we're on the road?" Trent asked from the backseat.
"Al!" I said aloud when I felt the connection form to the demon collective, and my thought winged away to be immediately answered. A second consciousness expanded mine, and I heard Jenks clatter his wings.
"You ever see anything freakier than that?" he said to Trent.
"Yes, about three minutes ago," Trent answered back.
What in the arcane are you doing? came Al's unusually angry thought within mine, and shoved away the whisper imagery of him either cleaning his spelling kitchen or tearing it apart.
"Filing an emancipation curse," I said aloud so Ivy and Jenks could hear half the conversation. "And before you start, what I do with my familiars is my business."
Do you have any idea what you've done? Al shouted, and I winced. Please tell me you didn't teach him anything. Al hesitated. Did you?
I shook my head even though Al couldn't see it. "I didn't teach Trent anything. Not even respect," I said, and I felt Al sigh in relief.
Itchy witch, Al thought, his dark musings seeming to insert themselves into my head. There's a reason we kill familiars when we're done with them. He's got a new mark, doesn't he?
"His familiar mark turned into a smiley face," I said, feeling myself warm.
From the backseat, Jenks exclaimed, "No way! Let me see!" and Trent's negative growl.
Damn my dame, Al thought, seeming to fall back into Ceri's comfortable chair by the small hearth in his kitchen if I was interpreting his emotions right. You did it correctly. Nice going, Rachel.
"Hey, you're the one who gave me the recipe," I shot back, thinking the modern phrase sounded funny coming from the old-world-charm demon.
I gave that one to you because it's bloody impossible and I thought you wouldn't be able to do it! he exclaimed, loud enough to give me a headache. You just made Trent able to call any demon without fear of being snatched. Nice going.
Fingers pressed to the glass to maintain our link, I looked back at Trent. So? You can still smack him around, can't you? I said, and the demon chuckled, making me shiver.
Technically, no, but that's a matter of interpretation.
I pushed my fingers into my forehead, tired of it all. Demons. Their society's rules were not worth the blood they were written with unless you had the personal power to force everyone to abide by them. But the snatching thing? That was probably ironclad.
"What did you say?" Jenks asked belligerently. "Hey! You're talking and not telling us. That's rude, Rache."
"Tell you later," I said, turning to look at Ivy, her hands on the wheel as she waited. She looked worried. Hell, I knew I was.
"Look, I wasn't going to use him as a familiar," I said to Al. "And now he's going to help get my shunning removed." The part about the West Coast elves trying to cack him, I'd keep to myself, not because it made this look more dangerous, but because Al wouldn't care. He'd just as soon see me fail. If I lost our bet, I'd be living with him in the ever-after-hence the reason he wouldn't just pop me over there.
Trenton Aloysius Kalamack? Al thought, a tweak of magic running through me when he lit a candle. Why? You going to be his little demon in return for his vouching for your sterling character, dove?
"Absolutely not," I said with a huff. "Trent's on some elf quest. I promised I'd see him to the West Coast is all. I'm his mirror, sword, and shield all in one. It was a deal, Al. Just because I can break them with impunity doesn't mean I will."
"You're on an elf quest?" Jenks said loudly, and Trent sighed. "You shitting me?"
You make the most interesting mistakes, my itchy witch, Al thought, and I didn't care if he could sense me slump in relief. If he was back to calling me itchy witch, we were okay. Don't teach him anything, he finished. Nothing.
"Not a problem," I said and lifted my hand, breaking the connection before Algaliarept caught my first whisper of unease.
Don't teach him anything, Al had said. Like how to free a familiar, maybe? Too late.