like bringing your own carving knife to the Bates Motel.”
“Nonsense. You won’t carry it around in a belt sheath.” She set down the
knife and snapped her fingers. With a spark of magic and a twist of mist, an
object appeared in her hand.
“Your car keys?” I asked.
“I store them in the ether. Along with my favorite wand, the Demonic
Tutelary Texts of Degobraxis the Infernal, a purse, and a few other important
or handy items.”
My jaw dropped for a number of reasons.
Seeing as I didn’t immediately protest, my aunt clapped her hands.
“Casey, get my ethereal inscription kit.”
“Uh…ethereal?” I stammered.
“The ether is a place between places. What’s important is—” She
snapped her fingers, and her keys disappeared. “It will be very hard for
Kahanov to find the knife, and if, for some reason, he ever gets his hands on
it, you’ll be able to dismiss it at will. It’s not foolproof, but I’m guessing he’ll
never suspect you have it.”
Casey returned with a red leather satchel and handed it to Laurel. She
opened it and pulled out a tiny vial of ink and a brush. “Give me your hand.”
I did as she ordered, and she began painting little magical symbols on my
palm. Her nutmeg signature rose into the air, and electricity flowed through
my skin until my hand was vibrating with power.
I sat perfectly still, almost breathless, afraid that if I wiggled, she might
mess up a symbol and blow off my fingers or something. Finally, she sat
back. “Okay, the next step is to memorize the knife in every detail. You’ll
need those details to call it back to you. Tell me when you’re certain you can
imagine it exactly.”
I traced my eyes over every inch of the Soul Knife. The bronze dagger
was so patinaed that it was nearly pure green. The lancelet blade had a raised
ridge down the center and was inscribed with fine runes, though none of the