‘Until you do the whole unwilling hero thing and finish what he started. He basically just invited you to a private afterparty.’
Yeah, and I won’t be going.
“Here.” Jessica set the bowl on the desk, and Leandras reached for the milk before she had a chance to do anything else with it.
He wobbled the carton back and forth, sloshing around what little remained inside, and raised an eyebrow. “Is this all you have?”
She stared at him. “No. I’m rationing.”
The fae’s flickering smirk made her feel like an idiot for cracking overwhelmingly unfunny jokes—here, now, with everything they still had to do in front of them and a trail of bodies and blood and who knew how many enemies still on their tail.
Leandras unscrewed the lid of the milk carton and poured the pitiful amount into the glass bowl. “Did you know cows are considered sacred animals in India?”
Without waiting for a reply, he practically shoved the empty milk carton back into her arms before summoning a second drawstring bag in his right hand with a pulse of silver light. This one was a deep crimson with more runes sewn all over it in silver thread. Jessica was too focused on what might be in that bag to care about being treated like an assistant right now.
‘Technically, you are.’ The bank snorted. ‘For this spell, at least.’
Technically, I own the place. And you don’t even know what this spell does, so zip it.
Leandras tugged gently on the drawstring, stretched the bag out as wide as it would allow, and dumped the whole thing over into the bowl of milk. A puff of white, chalky dust billowed up toward both their faces, and Jessica stepped back to avoid breathing in unknown magical air pollution. Then the fae turned toward her with raised eyebrows. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“Did you know?”
She blinked. “Oh. That...that wasn’t a rhetorical question?”
He held her gaze with such intensity, she couldn’t decide if he was trying to make her squirm under the question or if her sarcasm had completely gone over his head.
It had to be the first option.
Jessica shrugged and waved a hand in front of her face to clear the dissipating white dust cloud. “Yeah, I guess. I might’ve heard something about rituals with cow’s blood.”
Leandras picked up the bundle of sticks and slid one out from beneath the twine wrapping them together. Then he got to stirring his weird cement-looking concoction with one end and nodded. “Various rituals in various parts of this world. We’re not using blood, obviously. Though a human’s milk would have been more aligned with living energy for this particular spell.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just say human milk?” She took another step back.
“Don’t tell me you had no concept of human lactation until—”
“Stop. Just... I know plenty about the human body, thanks.”
‘And witch. And mage. Ooh, and fae, even—’
You’re toeing the line, bank.
Jessica coughed and waved more dust away from her face as another puff rose from Leandras’ stirring. “What is that?”
“Ashes.” He said it so matter-of-factly, she thought she’d misheard him.
“Ashes.”
“Are you going to ask me to reiterate everything I say, Jessica? This really will go faster without the need to constantly repeat myself.”
“Leandras...” She stared at the bowl, shot him a quick sidelong glance, then watched him stir again. “Who’s ashes are those?”
“They belonged to a very old human. I assure you she was already in this state when I acquired her remains.”
“So you just went around across the city to pick up some random lady’s ashes for our spell?”
He chuckled through his nose. “Beyond the city for this particular reagent, but yes.”
Jessica folded her arms. “Please don’t tell me we’re summoning a spirit. Or a golem. Or anything that’s going to rise up out of ashes and...milk and start moving around.”
Finished with his stirring, Leandras broke the stick in half and tossed both ends into the bowl. “I’d be far more worried if we required a golem to open the Gateway.”
“Then why—”
“The human race is far more intrinsically tied to this world than any other. Which shouldn’t surprise you in the least. We need ties here to anchor the spell and ties to Xahar’áhsh to provide a compelling lure.”
She couldn’t help a soft snort of derision. “What, like one of your fingers?”
With his hand outstretched over the pile of red-glowing metal shavings, Leandras slowly turned his head to regard her with a new level of disdain. “You sound nervous.”
“I’m not. Nice try.” Jessica cleared her throat and folded her arms again.
That was another lie, of course, and the bank didn’t even have to speak up to remind her of it.
Of course she was nervous. How could she not be? Human ashes and the weirdly brief mention of lactation aside, they were putting a spell into motion that would force the Gateway to respond to Jessica’s command. It would open, they’d step through together ... and then what? The fae didn’t seem the least bit anxious about what they had to do, now that they were doing it.
She shouldn’t be either. Jessica had committed to this because he’d finally told her the consequences of not stepping through that portal into his world. Knowing that didn’t make her stomach suddenly settle back down where it belonged.
Leandras sprinkled a pinched handful of the metal shavings into the bowl, which erupted with a spray of red sparks and a puff of yellow smoke. The scent of sulfur laced with boiling milk filled the air.
“Well.” Jessica nodded. “Looks like you’ve got this covered, so I’ll just—”
“Do you have a lighter?”
With a sigh, Jessica met his questioning gaze. “A fae can’t summon his own flame?”
His aggravating, twitching smile returned as he dipped his head and leaned toward her. “I’m merely trying to keep you engaged. Perhaps I should employ a more personal touch—”
“Yeah, we really don’t need to go there.”
“Then I hope you’ll content yourself with the fact that this isn’t a one-magical spell.” Though his ridiculous smirk remained, it softened a little when Leandras’ eyebrows drew together. “I need you for this. We need each other.”
Oh, sure. Joking about personal touch right before getting all serious about their team effort and his needs.
If she’d been working on this spell—on this entire Gateway-between-worlds thing—with anyone else, that statement might have sunken in just a little deeper. Jessica still wasn’t sure about any of it, especially how much she and the fae man actually needed each other. Or how much she actually trusted him.
Cocking her head, she sent the coy smile right on back and summoned a small fireball in her open palm. “It’s not a lighter.”
Leandras didn’t bother sparing a glance at the flames. His silver-hued gaze remained firmly fixed on her face. “It will do.”
Jessica scoffed, but her smile hung around a little longer.
Just until he snatched up the lock of hair resting in front of the stone box.
Before she realized what he was doing, the fae had already thrust the end of the shiny black hair into her conjured fireball. The crackle and hiss rose with the pungent, chemical smell of burning hair. That part was normal, but the lock itself ignited in green flame a second before the fae quickly released it over the bowl.
Jessica scowled at the odor and immediately stepped back as the green fire ignited the surface of the ash-milk. More yellow smoke ballooned into the air over the desk, thicker and glimmering with green internal light. The scent changed to something like woodsmoke mixed with the awful stench she recognized from the paper plants east of downtown Denver.
Great. All they had to do was throw in a little fake-meat smell, and she might as well be living in the dog-food factory off I-70 instead of a magical b
ank.
Forcing back a cough, she decided breathing through her mouth was worth the risk of not smelling the stink. “Should we open a window or something? Maybe the front door...”
Leandras leaned over the bowl as the yellow-green smoke cleared, scrutinizing the eerie green coloring of the strange potion inside.
It looked a hell of a lot like the light from behind the Gateway had just been transmuted into soup.
“No outside influences, Jessica.”
“Outside influences? You mean like air?” She swallowed thickly and pressed a fist to her mouth.
“I mean all of it.” Jerking his hands out from beneath the sleeves of his suit jacket, the fae reached out over the top of the bowl and met her gaze again. “Your wards around this building, however weak—”
“Okay, wait a minute.”
“—maintain the balance of energies within and without. Unless you’ve established a filtering shield around the open doorway, the second you open a window or a door, that balance shifts. Most likely against our favor with this spell. And it would most certainly alert any number of parties to our intentions here and now.”
Jessica closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. “Open invitation.”
“If you like.” He returned his attention to the potion and muttered an incantation Jessica couldn’t quite hear. But it wasn’t in English or any other Earth language she might have recognized, so there was no point in trying to make it out.
So much for complete wards around the bank.
The bank tsked. ‘Hey, I’m not the one who makes potions and casts the damn things, okay? Don’t look at me.’
I’m not.
‘Yeah, but you would if you could.’
And you had no idea that every time your front door opened, we were letting out the “come and get it” signal?
‘I’m a freaking sentient bank, witch! My whole existence is a “come and get it” signal.’
Jessica pinched the bridge of her nose and tried not to think about how long it would take to get the potion smell out of the lobby.
Not like it mattered anyway. In two days, she wouldn’t be here to smell anything.
‘Okay, that kinda careless thinking is why we can’t have nice things.’
We have nice things.
‘Yeah? Like all this junk?’
“Jessica.” The urgency in Leandras’ voice ripped her from her silent conversation.
She looked quickly up at him, then noticed the glowing-green potion had started to boil. Thick, viscous bubbles rose and burst across the surface, sending shimmering ripples of silver light out toward the glass. The fae’s open palms still hovered over the bowl, but now he was scowling.
“Your athame.”
“My what?”
“The knife!” He didn’t look up from the potion. “Now.”
“What happened?” She skirted around the side of the desk to get to the top right-hand drawer, unable to look away from Leandras’ urgent frown and the pulsing glimmer of silver light growing stronger behind his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything if you don’t shut up and do exactly as I say. Quickly.”
Chapter 10
Jessica slapped a hand against the side of the desk to steady herself as her other hand fumbled to open the right drawer.
‘Did he just tell you to shut up?’ the bank asked.
And now I’m telling you to shut up.
The drawer jerked opened with a bang, and she shuffled through the papers and rejected first-rights proposals to get to Tabitha’s ritual knife. Her fingers closed around it, and she jerked out the blade to offer it over the desk. “Here.”
Leandras’ hands were shaking now, his concentration all but fully centered on the bubbling potion. A thin stream of white smoke rose like a single snaking hair from the center of the bowl. “Not for me.”
“What do you mean not for you? I thought you knew what you were doing!”
“Your blood, Jessica.”
“Are you kidding me—”
“Do it now!” Leandras roared, his eyes widening as the white filament drew steadily higher and higher into the air. The top of it had now started to split away like tiny branching blood vessels, filling the air with palpable static.
She didn’t even hesitate. Maybe she should have, but the sincere urgency in his shout and the fact she could literally feel something going wrong made her act instantly.
Jessica brought the edge of the blade down across her other palm with a quick, slicing jerk, then thrust her bleeding fist over the bowl beneath Leandras’ outstretched hands, careful not to touch that white-glowing thread of light that obviously threatened her fae accomplice and probably their entire plan.
She might as well have stuck Tabitha’s dagger into a wall socket; the ensuing shock of intense energy racing into her fist and up her arm was that powerful. Maybe even more.
Gritting her teeth against the startling jolt, she forced her fist to stay where it was as drop after drop of her own blood plopped into the bubbling green potion. Her scalp prickled, and she imagined her hair was now on its way to standing on end with all the static.
‘Nope. Already is.’
“How long do I have to do this?” she asked through clenched teeth.
“As long as it takes.”
“Leandras—”
“Quiet!” He took up the incantation one more time, which came out more like a growling whisper as his lips moved furiously over the words.
The branching filaments at the top of the white thread converged again, sewing themselves back up into one before the flickering tendril slowly shrank back down.
It was too slow. Agonizingly slow.
Jessica’s arm burned with the power of the magic she was either fueling or fighting or both. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh, including the back of her clenched fist, and the closer the top of that white thread shrank toward her hand, the stronger the jolting sting of energy became.
When it reached the same level as her fist, the magical filament lashed out toward the clenched bottom where her blood still steadily dripped into the potion.
She hissed and slammed her free hand down on the desk to keep from jerking her blood sacrifice out of the spell. “Please tell me it’s supposed to do that.”
Leandras didn’t break from his incantation, though now he stared at the white filament plugged into her bleeding fist.
Okay. That probably meant they were on the right track.
‘Whew. Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?’
You can’t even feel...
No, the bank was right. The static in the air had taken on a growing heat, and Jessica swiped at the sweat beading on her forehead.
Then the white thread of glowing magic pulled away from her fist. It pulled her blood away with it too.
The sight of that smokey filament drawing her blood out of her in a similar string instantly brought to mind the memory of her newly returned magic drawing the lifeforce out of Mickey Hargraves.
Was this what the damn fae meant by needing ties to this side of the Gateway? That the potion would bleed her dry so he could open the door on his own and pass through unencumbered and unsupervised?
Not if she could help it.
She tried to pull her aching fist away but found herself unable to move.
“Leandras.”
“Wait.” His gaze flickered briefly up to her face, then he stared back down at the stream of her blood drawing out of her fist. “Just wait.”
“I can’t—” Light spots danced in her vision, and it wasn’t from the glowing potion. Shaking her head, she tried to blink them away. “This isn’t... I’m not made of endless blood.”
“No, only about seven percent of you.”
Was that supposed to be a joke?
‘At least he keeps his cool in tight situations.’
I can’t move, bank! That cancels out any reasons to keep cool.
A flash of white light burst from the thread of ma
gical smoke, and when it cleared, the entire filament had now turned a deep blood-red.
No. It was blood. Jessica’s blood.
And it was being drawn out of her and straight back down into the center of the potion.
The bubbling finally settled into a slow simmer, then stopped entirely. The surface of the eerily green substance smoothed out all on its own. When the last thread of her sacrificed blood drew down into the potion, the liquid’s surface shuddered and let off a final—if highly anticlimactic—pop.
Jessica’s hair raised by so much static dropped immediately around her shoulders, and the burning energy lancing through her disappeared. She jerked her hand away from the bowl with a growl and stumbled backward.
Leandras hardly seemed to notice. He was way too focused instead on the surface of the potion, his gaze skimming back and forth across the bowl as he apparently searched for the next threat to reveal itself. Nothing happened.
“Cheap fucking trick, fae.” Jessica grimaced as she slowly opened her clenched fist, her fingers aching like she now had premature arthritis.
“Absolutely necessary, witch,” Leandras muttered in reply, his scowl darkening. “But it seems I’ve overlooked one minor—”
“No. You overlooked a major detail. Two of them, actually.” She glared at the cut on her hand, watching the shallow wound patch itself up in record time now that every inch of her own magic had been restored.
That was, of course, assuming whatever this potion had done to her hadn’t just ruined her magic in ways she’d never know until it was too late.
“Like the fact that this potion apparently comes with a self-destruct—”
“Shh!” The fae’s frown deepened further, making him look even more on the verge of madness than when he leered at her with that feral grin.
She was about to tell him to go screw himself, but the potion pulsed with one more round of green light, let out a burst of static crackle, then went from a thick sludgy green to ... nothing.
It could have been a bowl of water resting there on the desk beside the remains of the partially used reagents. The liquid didn’t move. There was no trace of magic, light, color, or even Jessica’s blood.
The Poisoned Veil (Accessory to Magic Book 4) Page 9
