by T. G. Ayer
We’d gone head-to-head a few times in the past but it was not often that I saw Drake as upset as he was today. I sighed and said, “Okay, fine, we’ll visit Natasha before we go to this necromancer.”
“I knew you had no intention of seeing her, despite what you said to Steph and me.” Drake kept his eyes on the road. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“No matter what you think of me, I don’t like you to worry. So let’s go see the white witch first. Who knows, maybe I could use a little white magic to counteract the dark.”
Drake snorted, but I didn’t miss the small curve of his lips as he tried not to smile. He was cute when he smiled. Not my kind of cute, though. We really needed to find Drake a girlfriend. Drake’s last paramour was as dark as they came. Maybe it was time to find him someone a little nicer and a lot more permanent.
The car was silent as we made our way through streets guarded by overhanging elms and oaks. A normal street in a normal suburb just like any other. Who would imagine that a gargoyle and a mage had just driven by? I didn’t break the silence, just enjoyed the quiet ride.
I only paid attention once suburb became country. I enjoyed the sights of rows and rows of corn and whatever other green stuff it was the farmers planted. At last, we turned onto an unpaved road and bounced around for at least ten minutes before we arrived at an abandoned farmhouse.
Bordered on three sides by a forest of elms and oaks, the house looked ready to fall in on itself. Cracked and boarded-up windows dotted the front of the building, while the porch stairs teetered dangerously. A stiff breeze sent an ancient rocking chair moving back and forth eerily.
The house said stay away and yet I didn’t listen. I grabbed my bag and shut the car door. Drake did the same, following close behind me as I tried the stairs to the porch, hoping I didn’t fall through. But the floorboards were firm under my feet and I smiled. Natasha was really good at her glamour magic. So good that sometimes even I couldn’t see through it unless I paid really close attention.
The air beside me shifted, and even before I looked, I knew that Drake would’ve gone invisible. I had always found the gargoyle’s power to become invisible pretty cool. I nodded, knowing he would see me. Knowing too, especially since we had come to see the white witch, it was probably better if she didn’t see him.
Chapter 12
Mel
I knocked lightly on the door and it opened almost immediately under my touch. I was a little startled and had to remind myself I’d come to visit a witch. Naturally, there would be magic around.
Natasha smiled up at me, honey brown eyes beaming cheerfully, the morning light catching the silvery highlights in her pale hair. “Well, hello Mel. I had a feeling I’d be seeing you soon.”
“Of course, you would have a feeling.” I snorted as she moved aside for me.
I entered, turning back when Natasha remained at the door, her spine stiff. Uh-oh. She stood on the threshold, staring out at the porch, her stillness giving me a sinking feeling.
“Now where do you think you are going?” she asked the air straight ahead of her. When she got no answer, she laughed. “Don’t stand there and think I can’t see you.”
I grinned, wondering what Drake would do now. I could just imagine how uncomfortable he was, standing there all invisible and knowing Natasha could still see him. So much for his gargoyle magic.
The air shimmered and Drake slowly became visible. He scowled as he stared at Natasha, although his eyes held a touch of embarrassment.
“Thank you,” she said. “And now you can wait on the porch while Mel and I talk.” She didn’t wait for an answer. Just closed the door in his face.
I chuckled. “Drake’s not going to be very happy about that.”
The witch was unperturbed. “Well, unless he’s come here on a personal visit, he is not coming inside. I don’t allow dark creatures within the walls of my home. Not without a very good reason. And accompanying a friend is not one of them.”
I glanced at the closed door. “Poor guy. All he wants is to help.”
“He can help by sitting quietly on the porch and not disturbing me.”
I chuckled again, giving the door another fleeting look and thinking about the angry gargoyle just beyond it. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon,” I said.
Natasha nodded and walked further into the hallway, her hips swaying with an unconscious grace. For a witch, she was so down-to-earth it was disconcerting. How often did you meet a powerful witch who liked jeans and t-shirts and war games? She led me into a large sitting room. On my first visit here a long, long time ago, I’d been pleasantly surprised. The house was nothing like I’d imagined a witch’s home to be. Whitewashed walls, beautiful landscape paintings, antique vases and urns, and dozens of handcrafted rugs filled the rooms. I sank into a couch, leaning back against half a dozen cushions. Natasha seated herself opposite me and waited, her face serene, her white-blonde hair framing her face and hanging down to her waist.
I cleared my throat, feeling a little uncomfortable. I had figured I’d come to see Natasha, but hadn’t exactly decided on what I needed from her. Not a very smart move.
“So, what can I do for you?” she asked, her expression curious, yet pleasant. It was a damned good thing this white witch liked me.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “This case I’m working on, part of it involves me hiring the services of a necromancer.” I didn’t miss the narrowing of her eyes or the tightening of her jaw. “I’m really not sure what I’m going to need when I go to him. But I do know what I’m asking him is going to cost me.”
“Why do you need to go to a necromancer?” Natasha’s face darkened as she spoke.
I sighed, knowing she wouldn’t agree easily. “My current case is a little girl. She’s been taken by demons.” The thought of Samantha alone and scared in that metal room somewhere in Dastra made my heart clench. The tightness and pain were sufficient reminders of the urgency.
Natasha shook her head, her eyes almost accusing. “But you usually come to me if you need help on your cases.”
“This one’s different,” I said, taking a deep breath. “She’s being warded with blood magic.”
The white witch paled, giving her hair a run for its money. “You do realize this is serious stuff, don’t you?”
I nodded. Natasha was always warning me about my cases, especially when it meant I traveled to other planes, and fought demons hand-to-hand. And here, I had a problem unequivocally different and incomparably more dangerous than any I had faced before. “Yeah, I know. But I need to find a way to get past the ward or I lose the girl.”
Natasha nodded, the movement slow and unconscious as she considered my words. She knew enough about me to understand how important it was to me not to lose an innocent. She schooled her features and asked, “Was there a spell?”
“A pentagram written with blood, bones and fire inside it.” I shuddered thinking about those bones and when I met Natasha’s eyes, I saw she knew what they may be. “And some writing I didn’t understand.”
“Okay, that does sound like some serious dark magic.” She rose and walked around to the window. I knew how she felt. The thought of Samantha stuck in that prison for even another day made me uneasy, restless. “Unfortunately, and as much as I hate to say it, the necromancer is your best bet for a spell to break the circle. Who are you going to see?”
“Nathaniel.” The name echoed around the room like a death knell.
Natasha hissed. “He’s a right bastard, that one. Evil to the core. You need to be really careful when you see him.” She shook her head, her eyes darkening with worry. “I really wish you had an alternative. I’d rather you stayed as far away from Nathaniel as much as possible.”
“I know. Me too.” I leaned my head against the back of the sofa, sinking deeper into the cushions, the weight of the witch’s concern heavy on my mind. I’d known it was a bad idea to see him, but her fear made me worry more. Then I sighed. “But
I don’t have a choice. So how can you help me?”
She turned to look at me, an expression of determination hardening her features. “We need to keep you safe. Make sure he can’t spell you in any way.”
Magic was the least of my problems when it came to the necromancer. “And when he asks for payment?” I raised an eyebrow.
“What do you have to pay him with?” She asked the question merely as a formality. I could see it in her eyes.
“What will he want?”
“Blood or a life sacrifice,” she said dryly. I’d known the answer. Shouldn’t have bothered to ask.
“I damned well hope he just wants the blood.” I got to my feet as well, the thought of meeting Nathaniel turning my stomach.
“We just have to hope.” She smiled, more a grimace than anything. Nothing to smile about. “Right, I’d better get you sorted then. You’ll want a protection spell for your body and mind. And I might be able to fix you something to avoid the whole bloodletting thing.”
“Really?” I was very curious. I knew what I was asking for would cost me, but if I could avoid giving the sorcerer my blood, I’d be very relieved.
Natasha nodded. “Come, let’s get started.” She headed out of the room without looking back. I followed, my mind whirling with worry and a touch of fear. I’d never had to break a blood curse before. The witch led me into the next room, which appeared far more modern than one would expect. White wallpaper with a pale gold-leaf imprint, an oak desk fronted by a pair of white single sofas. She waved her hand at the seats and said, “Sit, I won’t be long.”
She left the room and I heard her in the kitchen, glasses tinkling, fridge opening and closing. Five minutes later, she breezed into the room holding a tray. Three large glasses of lemonade sat on the silver plate and I glanced up at her. She just handed me a glass and placed another on the desk. Then she left with the third.
Curious, I went to the door and watched her as she headed to the front door and out to Drake. The hum of voices filtered toward me and I returned to my seat to sip the ice-cold drink, all the while smiling to myself. Drake would be totally flummoxed. I bet he wouldn’t have expected hospitality while banished to the front porch.
Then Natasha returned, dusting her hands together as if thoroughly pleased with herself. She seated herself behind her desk and sat there for a moment, framed by white-and-gold striped curtains and a large picture window at her back. She took a long swig of her drink before heading to a set of drawers against the wall.
I didn’t understand too much of what she did but I watched anyway. She selected a white marble bowl and a long purple amethyst and placed them in the center of the desk. Then she fetched a large glass pitcher of water from a table by the window. This she poured into the bowl until the water reached the brim. Then she rummaged in one of the drawers and withdrew a small brown bag, which she untied, revealing soft brown sand. She set it beside the bowl and headed to the left-hand wall, which was covered in floor-to-ceiling oak shelving. She reached for a small iron brazier, merely a metal box with four iron legs. This she placed on the table, arranging each of the items in a triangle with the iron stand closest to her and the purple stone right in the middle.
I shifted, restless. I’d been to see Natasha before and knew well enough it wouldn’t be a five-minute job, but I did hope she wouldn’t take too long. Poor Drake was staked out on the porch.
After the lemonade, I couldn’t be certain that he’d be getting angrier by the minute. I hoped he was relaxed and waiting patiently. Anyone would prefer a calm Drake to a tetchy one. The witch fiddled in her desk drawer again and retrieved a pile of twigs tied together in a small bundle, and a long thin fire-lighter.
She placed the wood in the metal brazier and said, “Right. I want you to come closer. Wash your hands in the water.” I returned my glass to the desk and headed around to stand beside her. I followed her instruction obediently, then dried my hands on the soft red towel she gave me.
“Now, take the bag and put a handful of soil at the point of the triangle.” She indicated one point.
I completed the task and dusted the sand off my fingers. Then she passed me the fire-lighter and I flicked the switch a few times until I got a strong flame. It took a while for the twigs to catch alight, but I eventually got a good little fire going. I stepped back and glanced at Natasha. She nodded more to herself than anything and I handed the lighter back to her, returning to my seat while Natasha hovered over the desk.
Smoke rose from the brazier and hung about like a murky cloud at the ceiling. I blinked, my eyes beginning to sting, but Natasha made no move to open the windows. Instead, she stood before the arrangement and raised her hands first to the ceiling, then to her breast, then to the desk. She spoke softly, a chant I didn’t understand. Nor did I expect to.
What I did understand was the essence of the spell. She’d taken a piece of me for each item. Earth, Air, Fire and Water. The four elements of life and of magic. Now she stood, calling the elements to her, creating the fabric of the spell from nature itself.
My nose twitched, the smoke teasing my nostrils. I held my breath and crossed my fingers, hoping I wouldn’t sneeze. Tears pooled at my lids, the haze growing thicker within the room.
Natasha seemed unaffected. I blinked again and stiffened, my eyes focusing on the white witch and the air around her. How had I not seen it before? She’d drawn a circle of protection around her, similar to the one currently shielding my house—an almost invisible bubble of magic.
Power burgeoned within the bubble and I could feel the pressure of it from where I sat, pressing against me like a living thing. Just because she was a white witch didn’t mean she wasn’t powerful. I watched her mouth move, her words distorted as she stood, her arms raised, encased in the protection of magic. Her chants grew louder, more intense, and my body tightened in response as I watched and waited.
The pressure grew and my ears began to pop. Natasha’s brow gleamed with perspiration as she concentrated. Then, just as suddenly, the pressure eased and Natasha relaxed. She picked up the stone and dipped it into the water. Then she took a pinch of the soil, drew a line down the center of the little crystal, and placed it in the fire.
The flames danced and spat and with a sudden whoosh of air, the fire went out. Natasha reached for the cloth I’d wiped my hands on, using it to grab hold of the hot stone from inside the brazier. She began to wipe it clean as she walked to the shelves, opening a small box. She removed a little metal contraption attached to a silver chain, a piece of coiled metal designed to hold the stone. She fiddled with it, slipping the stone inside. The witch came toward me and I got to my feet and waited, unmoving as she hung the chain around my neck.
“Keep it on you at all times. It will protect you against most spells.”
“Most?” I frowned, not liking the sound of that.
She nodded. “There are some spells that this protection will fail against. Like anything that uses your own blood, for example.” Natasha raised an eyebrow and I nodded. Then she moved back to her desk. “There is one more thing, of course. Nathaniel will ask for blood. If he asks for a life, then leave. He will call you back because blood, any human blood, is precious to him. It strengthens his magical power and his spells. And since you are a mage, he will be all the more keen for a drop of your blood.”
She sat heavily onto her chair, and from the creases on her forehead and the bow of her shoulders, I knew she was worried.
“The best way to trick him is to not use magic.”
I frowned. That was new. “No magic?”
“Yes.” She opened the drawer in front of her and withdrew a long object wrapped in leather and twisted it to reveal the hollow handle. “This is a trick knife. The kind used by fake magicians. See how the inside of it is hollow? With a little pressure, the point of the knife opens to allow the blood to leak out. It will look like you are cutting yourself.”
Natasha handed the knife over to me. After a quick inspection, I g
ave it back. “So. Whose blood are we using?”
Natasha laughed, the tension in her face easing a little. “Don’t worry. I am not donating. We will use blood from my milking cow.”
I raised my eyebrows but didn’t question her. She knew what she was doing. I hoped.
Chapter 13
Saleem
Saleem’s mind was on the too-sexy-for-her-own-good SoulTracker. He’d heard she was feisty and strong, but nobody had mentioned she was hot. The precinct hummed with low voices and the tapping of keyboards as Saleem watched Fulbright make his way to his desk, coffee cup in one hand and a file in the other. Chances were, that file was another abduction case.
Fulbright’s face was pinched and red, skin sagging and dark under his eyes. He reached his desk opposite Saleem’s, tugged the gaudy orange tie from his neck and unbuttoned his collar. It did nothing to improve the thick lines of his neck. The detective grunted, then took a swig from his cup.
He drew the back of his hand across his mouth, slapped the file on the desk and proceeded to rifle through his In-tray with his unoccupied hand. Most of the papers were tossed aside. Then he returned his attention to the file. In all that time, he hadn’t looked at Saleem once.
“Rough night?” Saleem asked, trying to keep the scorn out of his voice. He disliked the detective but Saleem wouldn’t let odious man know it.
“Yeah.” Fulbright’s gaze remained on his file.
Sure, his rough night was all in his head. Fulbright kept too many things too close to his chest. Saleem decided to encourage a better answer. He leaned forward and asked, “Anything happen?”
Fulbright looked up and studied him for a moment, his expression cold and impersonal. Then he replied. “Yeah, I’ve got a few things to investigate before I’m sure. I’ll let you know.” He returned his gaze to the file.
Bastard.
Saleem ground his jaw as he stared at the top of Fulbright’s head. The man rubbed him the wrong way, and that was dangerous. Magic pulsed through Saleem’s veins but he tamped it down. He was here to watch the man, not incinerate his ass.
