The Demon's Covenant

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  “I will be sure,” said Jessica Walker, “to keep in touch.”

  She did not stay long after that. When she was gone, Annabel offered Mae a cup of tea. Mae shook her head.

  “If you took an interest in law,” Annabel said, “it would make me very hap—”

  “You can’t ever let that woman in the house again,” said Mae.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Mavis!”

  “Annabel,” Mae said, “I—when I knew her before, I can’t talk about it. It’s private. But she was terrible to friends of mine. She scared me badly. I don’t trust her. I don’t want her here, or—or around you.”

  “It seemed like her client’s custom might be a valuable asset to the firm,” Annabel said slowly, and Mae’s heart sank.

  She was usually able to persuade people, to make them see things her way, but it had never worked with Annabel.

  “When you and your brother disappeared,” Annabel began.

  “Oh, not this again!”

  “Hear me out, Mavis. When you disappeared, I was very—” Annabel cleared her throat. “I was very distressed. I realize that your father has pulled away a lot from you both in recent years, and I have been absorbed in my work and not compensating for the loss. I regret that.”

  “Um,” Mae said. “Okay.”

  “If you two ran away under the impression that I would not care,” Annabel said, “I did. And while your behavior was extremely reckless and irresponsible, I know I was at fault as well. If you wish me to turn away this client for your peace of mind, I will. I should cut back on my work anyway, and—we should make an effort to eat together.”

  Annabel was probably just saying this because she felt she had to, because she didn’t want the girls down at the tennis club to gossip about her delinquent children, but she’d said that she would turn the magicians’ messenger away all the same. Mae was so relieved she wanted to cry.

  “All right,” she said. “It’s a deal.”

  She thought of something and fumbled at her neck, untying the cord that held her talisman in place. If the magicians had sent a messenger to visit her mother, they could send demons.

  “Could you wear this, Annabel?” she asked, getting up and holding it out. “To seal the deal,” she added, and gave Annabel a smile she hoped would be convincing.

  Annabel looked pleased at the gesture and absolutely horrified by the necklace, which looked like a huge dream catcher, gleaming with bones and gems.

  “Thank you, Mavis,” she said bravely, tying it on and tucking it immediately under her blouse. “It’s very unique. Does it have any … occult significance? I know you like that kind of thing.”

  Annabel probably classified anything from reading horoscopes to outright Satanism as “that kind of thing,” but she was being terribly good about this. Mae went behind her mother’s chair and then leaned down and circled her shoulders with both arms, giving her a brief squeeze.

  Annabel’s back went rigid, but she put a hand on Mae’s arm, so Mae couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or pleased by the gesture.

  She let go, but before she did she whispered into her mother’s ear, “It keeps away bad dreams.”

  She remembered that in the night, when she dreamed that her father was at the window, saying that he was sorry and he loved them and he wanted to come home. Mae didn’t open the window because she knew better than to believe her father, even in a dream, and then there were ravens at her window, there was a storm, there was something waiting outside for her and it was angry.

  She woke up dreaming of a thunderclap loud enough to splinter the sky, and found herself lying in a bed full of broken glass.

  The window was shattered. There was nothing outside but the night.

  Mae went downstairs and made herself some coffee. It was fine, she told herself. She was fine. She could get a new talisman from Alan today.

  She sat there with her coffee going cold until Jamie came downstairs. His face hardened when he saw her.

  “Didn’t hear you come in last night,” Mae said. “Where were you?”

  “Where d’you think?” Jamie asked. “Gerald says he’ll meet us all after school.”

  “Oh he does, does he?” Mae inquired. “And it took you the whole evening to make the appointment?”

  Jamie went red. “I can hang around with whoever I want,” he muttered. “You are.”

  It hurt that he was ready to be angry without letting her explain; it hurt that he’d kept what was happening with Gerald from her, and kept the magic from her before that. Mae held her coffee cup tight.

  “Yeah,” she said. “Guess I am.”

  4

  Asking the Wrong Questions

  You’re quieter than usual,” Nick remarked.

  He was the one driving to the graveyard. Alan was sitting relaxed in the passenger seat beside him, body stretched out long and loose, without the tension his shoulders always held when he was driving. He’d said hello when they first got in, then seen their faces and fallen tactfully silent.

  This was the first time Nick had spoken.

  “Sorry,” Jamie muttered to the window.

  “Don’t be sorry,” Nick said calmly. “I kind of like it.”

  They went around a curve in the road where red brick houses stood almost in line, old and leaning against one another like rusty tin soldiers.

  Mae looked at Jamie, but he kept staring out the window, arms crossed tight over his chest and his profile tense. He didn’t even glance at her.

  “So why are you being quiet?” Nick demanded.

  “Why, concerned about my feelings?” Jamie snapped.

  “Yeah,” Nick said. “You know me. I fret.”

  “I thought that demons weren’t supposed to lie,” Mae said.

  “We don’t,” said Nick, his hands light on the wheel and his voice even. “But I am in full possession of the amazing power of being sarcastic.”

  The silence after Nick spoke sounded very strange to Mae, and for a moment she could not work out why. Then she realized that it would normally have been filled with Alan’s soft laugh, loving if not always approving, and making Nick’s humor seem less grim to everyone else.

  The silence continued until Jamie spoke again.

  “Do you remember Seb McFarlane, Nick?”

  “Yeah,” Nick answered warily.

  “What did you think of him?”

  “You’re lucky I remember his name,” said Nick. “Expecting me to have an actual opinion on the guy is going too far. Is he why you’re being all quiet?”

  Jamie was quiet some more.

  “I’ll deal with him,” Nick said at length.

  The offer was so unexpected that Jamie straightened from his sullen slouch as sharply as if someone had just applied a jolt of electricity to his spine.

  “I don’t want you killing anyone for me!”

  When Nick pulled over, Mae thought for a second he was angry, and then she realized they had reached their destination.

  The graveyard was close to home, on the edge of the St. Leonard’s district where Mae lived. It was set in sunken ground on the left side of the road, and they had to pass it and park in someone else’s drive. There was a stone gargoyle set in the side of the house, looking with solemn surprise over at a red brick rise of flats.

  Mae twisted her head and looked out the back window. Tucked between road and graveyard was an alley that contained bricks, dustbins, and several waiting magicians.

  “I’m not going to kill anyone.” Nick turned off the car engine and then slid a cool, amused glance back at Jamie. “Well,” he added, and smiled slowly, “not for you.”

  They had to scramble over a low wall on their way. Mae slid her foot into a crevice between the stones and then jumped off the wall. Jamie sat on it and threw his legs over, feet feeling tentatively for the ground. Nick took the wall in a bound: He barely seemed to register it except that he stopped once he was over and held out a hand to help his brother.

  “I’m oka
y,” Alan said, with his face turned away from his brother and his good knee up on the wall. He set his teeth as he heaved his bad leg over, and they all saw him wince.

  Mae just smiled at him and pretended she hadn’t noticed. He looked startled, and then smiled brilliantly back.

  It was a good smile. It didn’t make her feel better about the fact that she had to go see the man who had bespelled her helpless. Mae shoved her hands in her pockets, and they all walked down the grassy rise, together but not united, toward the magicians’ alley.

  The magicians looked very united. There were two standing behind but close to Gerald, as if they were trying to be at his back and by his side at the same time. Mae recognized the short, gray-haired woman, Laura, but not the guy at Gerald’s left. He was young, with a brown buzz cut. He looked as if he might be in his early or midtwenties, not much older than Gerald himself. Both of the other magicians looked very serious.

  Gerald was smiling. His smile lit up the little alley with its gray bricks and cracked concrete floor. For a moment the whole situation seemed normal. For a moment it seemed like they were all friends.

  “Hi, Jamie.”

  “Hi,” Jamie said, low.

  “I didn’t really get the chance to say hi before you paralyzed me last time,” said Mae loudly, to show she wasn’t afraid.

  Gerald looked at Mae, and when his eyes met hers she remembered Gerald as she’d first seen him, tied to a chair and playing the victim. She remembered pitying and almost liking him.

  “I am sorry about that,” he said. “But I’m glad to see you all here.”

  “Why’s that?” asked Nick, voice rumbling in his chest as if at any point human words could transform into a growl. “Did you miss my little face?”

  He’d gone to sit on a fallen chunk of wall, leaning his arms on his spread knees and staring around at them all with baleful eyes. Gerald glanced at him, shivered, and looked away.

  Jamie moved a little closer to Gerald. He’d stepped forward before when Gerald spoke to him, and now he stood in a place almost exactly balanced between the two groups.

  Gerald smiled at him and turned his gaze to Alan.

  “You wanted to see me? Here I am,” he said. “In return, I wondered if you could do something for me.”

  Alan held his gaze calmly. “What’s that?”

  “I wanted to speak to you,” said Gerald. “Alone.”

  Sudden shadow blotted out the sun. Mae threw back her head and looked at the sky, where storm clouds were being born, tendrils of darkness writhing and spreading across the expanse of deep blue.

  The threads of cloud were already black as ink, as if someone were inscribing threats and promises on the sky in a strange language. Mae looked down and into shadow-dark eyes.

  Nick whispered, “What do you want with my brother?”

  “I would prefer to keep that between us,” Gerald said mildly. “I intend him no harm. Though you can drop that pretense of being an almighty protector right now, Nick. I know why you’re here.”

  “Because you’re messing with Jamie,” said Nick.

  “Exactly,” Gerald responded. “And you don’t want anyone else having a claim on him. Not when you have a use for him yourself.”

  Nick frowned and popped his wrist sheath with what seemed to be sheer absentmindedness. A gleaming silver switchblade appeared between his fingers, the hilt carved with strange symbols Mae couldn’t make out. Nick fiddled with it without looking at it. He was still looking at Gerald.

  “I wasn’t aware Jamie had a use.”

  “Oh please,” Gerald said, a note in his voice that sounded genuinely incredulous. “We’re all perfectly aware of how handy a pet magician would be for a demon. And here he is, tailor-made for you. He’s young, he’s impressionable, he’s got real power, and he already owes you a debt. As soon as you had an excuse, you rushed down here to offer protection and friendship. It all fits.”

  Nick gave a sharp bark of laughter. Jamie stood stricken.

  He looked back over his shoulder at Nick, eyes wide and doubtful, and Mae could practically see the memory of yesterday passing through his mind as it was passing through hers.

  Hey, Jamie. Want to be friends?

  “No,” Jamie said slowly. “You’ve got it wrong, Gerald. Nick’s not like that.”

  “Everyone’s like that, Jamie,” said Gerald, his voice gentle, as if he didn’t want to tell Jamie this harsh truth. “Everyone wants power.”

  “I have enough,” Nick said. Then he smiled, sudden and wild. “Or do you want to try me?”

  “I wouldn’t make any threats, demon,” Laura said. “Do you have enough to protect your human allies every moment of the day? Watch your tongue when you talk to our leader. Some night when you’re asleep we could come into your house and tear the human boy apart in his bed.”

  The whole sky went black. The magicians went flying backward, Laura and the stranger hitting the wall so hard it was clear Nick did not care if they broke. Gerald hit the ground.

  Nick was on his feet and towering over Gerald in one movement.

  “You can’t do anything if I kill you all now,” Nick told him, his voice echoing and rolling like thunder.

  He lifted a hand, and Gerald made a thin sound, as if Nick was wielding an invisible sword and slicing into him. He was pinned and struggling desperately on the earth. Nick laughed.

  Jamie dived forward and caught Nick’s wrist. Nick whirled around, lifting Jamie off his feet for a moment.

  “Whose side are you on?” he roared.

  “The side of not wanting anybody to get hurt!” Jamie yelled back.

  “So not mine,” snapped Nick. He shoved Jamie clear across the alley and into Mae.

  Mae caught his weight, even though it made her stagger, and held on even though he struggled, her arm tight around his heaving ribs. Nick spun back to where Gerald lay, and the wind howled. The other two magicians were scrambling to their feet, Laura looking pale with pain, magic starting to shimmer between their palms. Over the wall Mae could see gray tombstones poking out of the earth like a leering mouth full of broken and decayed teeth. She could see Nick’s face in profile, the hungry swing of his eyes from face to face, like the swing of his sword when he was fighting. She didn’t know what he was going to do.

  She had entirely forgotten that Alan was there. She remembered with a vengeance when he limped forward, grabbed a handful of thick black hair, and pulled Nick’s head back. A small, wicked knife glinted in the shadowed space between Nick’s shirt collar and throat.

  Nick drew in a short, sharp breath and went still.

  “Stop that,” Alan said in his ear. “They came here to talk to Jamie. How do you think Jamie will feel if you slaughter them all?”

  Nick made a low snarl of protest that Mae guessed did not indicate deep concern about Jamie’s emotional state.

  “She said—”

  “Don’t listen to her,” said Alan. “Listen to me. Stop. Now.”

  The thunder made a low complaining sound and died away. Alan stepped back and slid the knife into his pocket, then reached out and offered Gerald a hand up. Gerald took it.

  Nick went over to the wall and leaned his forehead against the gray bricks, teeth set. The clouds were slipping away slowly; the dark fingers of the storm curled around the sky as if they did not want to let go.

  Mae felt much the same, but she released her hold on Jamie. He stumbled a few paces toward Gerald.

  “I’m sorry,” he began. “I didn’t know—Alan said he only wanted to talk.”

  “And I do,” Alan agreed calmly. “I apologize for Nick’s behavior.”

  “I apologize for Laura’s,” Gerald told him, voice just as smooth and friendly. They stood clasping hands for another moment. They both had blue eyes, Mae noticed: Alan’s dark and Gerald’s light and bright. Alan’s crinkled behind his glasses as he smiled, and Gerald smiled back. “I have no intention of harming anyone,” he assured Alan. “All I want is a word in private.�
�

  “I’ll give you a word in public,” Alan said, still smiling. “No.”

  Gerald blinked. Alan dropped his hand and stepped back.

  The storm was clearing fast out of the sky now, clouds spiraling as if they were going down some unseen drain. Nick was leaning against the wall with his arms folded over his chest.

  “I wanted to talk,” Alan went on. “This is what I have to say: Leave Jamie alone. Get out of Exeter. Or I’ll turn your Circle over to Celeste Drake.”

  Gerald kept smiling, betraying no more than he had by that first blink, but Laura went a little pale.

  “I’m not scared of Celeste.”

  “No?” Alan asked. “You should be. You’re the leader of the Obsidian Circle now, aren’t you? I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought. Should we be using a title for you now? As a mark of respect?”

  “Yes, I’m the leader,” said Gerald. “And no. I thought—” He flashed a rueful smile at Jamie, and Mae was outraged to see Jamie smile hesitantly back. “Well, I didn’t think Black Gerald sounded exactly fearsome.”

  “New leader,” Alan observed. “You’re very young. You lost about half your Circle when you lost your leader. You’ve been losing more since then, your best people leaving for more stable Circles. You’re desperately trying to recruit new magicians. And the Aventurine Circle is out for your blood. What do you have going for you, Gerald?”

  “You have no idea,” the strange magician said hotly, “what he can do. He—”

  “Ben, be quiet!” Gerald snapped.

  The stranger—Ben—looked embarrassed and bowed his head, flushing faintly pink. Mae looked at him and remembered what the messenger had said about Gerald’s new mark.

  “I think my best people have stayed with me,” said Gerald, and there was a firmness about his tone that made Mae understand for a moment why people might be loyal to him: There was a substance to him that she hadn’t seen in Black Arthur, terrifyingly and deliberately impressive though he’d been. “And I could mention that you don’t have anyone left on your side but a demon that could turn against you at any moment, Alan—but I’m sure you’ve been thinking about that yourself.”