****
I lead Dham down the old corridors, stopping before the door with the bar over it. I lever it off once more, placing it against the wall, and turn to him. "Whatever happens in there, do not cross or break his circle, understand?"
Dham nods, looking chalky in the torch light. "You do know what you're doing, right?"
"More or less." I don't look at him as I push open the door.
Trick is in the same place as last time, still bound to the chair and seated inside the pentacles. Dham stops just inside the door, eyes huge. I shut the door and move past him, beginning to lay out the things I've brought.
"What are you doing?" Trick's voice, so much like Pat's but so subtly different, echoes in the round room.
"I'm going to try and break the bindings holding you inside Patrick's body." My voice is even and I don't look up from my work. I begin to lay out the salt circle and pentacle, drawing the sigils of protection around it in magic marker. I stop to consult my notes once in a while to make sure I'm doing it correctly.
"You need more of a squiggle on the end of that one," Trick remarks, pointing his chin at the one I've just finished with.
I meet his eyes. There's something in them, a kind of slyness, but I can't think about that now. He's watching everything I do with great interest, even leaning forward in his chair. He nods once and I correct the sigil. I'm hoping he wants to be unbound just as much as I want to free Patrick and he's not setting me up for an express trip to the cemetery.
"What do you want me to do?" Dham asks from his place by the door.
"Draw a protection circle of your own." I gesture to the area next to me on the other side of Trick so that we're forming a triangle. I point at one of the pages and drop a canister of salt atop it. "Use that as a model."
"Got it." Dham collects everything and takes it over to the spot I indicated.
I go back to readying myself for the ritual. I survey what I've done so far—I've got the first half of the circle done, but I still need to finish the rest. It feels like it is taking forever, but I can't rush this. Every mark needs to be perfect or the safety of the circle and the outcome of the ritual could be compromised.
"I take all this to mean you found the incantation he used?" Tick asks.
I nod, not looking away from the inked lines.
His voice is softer this time. "You sure you can do this?"
"No." I consult my notes again. "But it's not like I have much of a choice."
"Why are you doing this?" Trick's voice is quiet, almost unsure.
I don't look up. I've got to make sure I have everything properly drawn and can't afford to be distracted. "Does it matter?"
"It might." His ever-present mocking smile is gone.
I finish up the last sigil and brush off my hands. "I don't like traps. And I hate being lied to." I gather up my notes, running through the incantation in my head.
"Interesting." Trick looks thoughtful. "We have that much in common then."
"Yeah, us and the rest of the planet," I mutter under my breath. Trick lets out a short bark of laughter, so totally unlike Pat's. I check out Dham. "You almost done?"
"All set," Dham answers as he takes his place in the center of the salt circle.
"Just don't leave the protection of the circle, no matter what happens, okay?" I take a deep breath. All of the items I'll need are in place inside my working area, everything easy to hand. I light the white candle that sits next to a bowl of water, then pick up the silver knife and braided rope of white linen. Auntie's tablecloth will never be same, but hopefully she'll forgive me.
I stand up and face Trick's pentacle. I begin to speak the words of the ritual haltingly at first, then find the rhythm of the strange words. I can see Trick nodding, as if agreeing with everything I'm saying. Hopefully that's a good sign. I glance down to see the next set of words I have written in my notes. I raise the rope above my head as the directions say, casting a quick look at Dham. He's staring at me, his face set like stone.
I kneel in front of the candle and dip the end of the braided rope into the flame. The incantation spills out of me, my eyes following along with my notes. I drop the burning end of the rope in the water. I pause in the chant to blow upon the rope. I check my notes again, stumbling a little over the last line of the incantation. I fold the rope in half and raise the knife and begin the series of chants again.
I thrust the knife through the braided linen, but misjudge the distance and force necessary. I slice through the rope alright, and into my hand. Blood wells up from the cut, staining the half of the rope in that hand. I drop the knife as I lose my balance and pitch forward, catching myself on my bloodied hand.
I can hear Trick scream "NO! What the bloody hell are you doing, you idiot?" as my palm hits one of the sigils I drew, the one with the squiggle he told me to add. Light flares from sign, almost as if my blood activates something. The incantation is flying from my lips now, a steady stream of words I am unable to stop. Trick is still shouting and now he's joined by Dham, who sounds like he's calling my name from a continent away.
But I can't look away from the light glowing in the sigils. It's spreading to all of the others, each of them flashing to life counter clockwise. I can hear voices, but they sound like they're growing farther and farther away. I can't look away from the light.
But then something strange happens. I feel a pulling from inside my chest, almost as if a piece of myself is being sucked out of me. The lights dim and begin to go out, the sigils fading into a red afterimage. I hear screaming--it's me but my own scream of pain is joined by another's, only this one sounds outraged and furious. I almost recognize the voice, feel so close to knowing what's happening if only the pain in my chest would go away...
Then the world seems to telescope inward until everything goes black and silent.
The Iron Bells Page 31
