by Ким Харрисон
I felt sick. "What do you want?" There was a spell pot on my counter full of an amber liquid smelling of geranium. I hadn't counted on him bringing his work to me.
"What do you want—master," Al prompted, smiling to show me his thick, blocky teeth.
I tucked my hair behind my ear. "I want you to get the hell out of my kitchen."
His smile never flickered as, with a powerful motion, he backhanded me. I stifled a gasp, lurching for balance. Adrenaline surged as he gripped my shoulder, keeping me upright.
"Funny, funny girl," he murmured, his British elegance chilling me and his beautiful chiseled looks turning harsh. "Say it."
The sharp taste of blood edged my tongue. My back pressed into the counter painfully. "What do you want, oh gracious master from my ass."
I didn't have time to duck as the flat of his hand swung. Pain shocked through my cheek, and I hit the floor. Al's silver-buckled boots edged my vision. He was wearing white stockings, and there was lace where they met the bottom of his trousers.
Nausea rose. I touched my cheek, feeling it burn and hating him. I tried to rise, unable to when he put a foot on my shoulder and forced me down. Hating him all the more, I tossed my hair aside so I could see him. What difference did it make? "What do you want, master?"
I felt like I was going to vomit.
His thin lips curled up in a smile. Tugging the lace from his sleeves, he bent to solicitously help me up. I refused, but he yanked me up so fast that I found myself pressed against him, breathing in the scent of crushed velvet and burnt amber. "I want this," he whispered, running a hand up under my sweater, searching.
My heart raced. Stiffening, I clenched my teeth. I'll kill him. Somehow, I'll kill him.
"Such a touching conversation with your roommate," he said, and I twitched, as his voice had shifted to Ivy's. Ever-after zinged through me as his appearance shifted while still touching me. Red goat eyes stared at me from Ivy's perfect face. Lean and tight, the image of her body wrapped in leather pressed against me, pinning me to the counter. The last time, he had bitten me. Oh, God. Not again.
"But maybe you want this instead," he said with her gray silk voice, and sweat started at the small of my back. Her long straight hair brushed my cheek, the silky whisper pulling an unstoppable shiver from my skin. Feeling it where our bodies touched, he leaned close until I recoiled.
"Don't pull away," he said with her voice, and my resolve grew. He was slime. He was a bastard. I'd kill him for this. "I'm sorry, Rachel…." he breathed, long fingers burninginto tingles where they touched, tracing a line from my shoulder to my hip. "I'm not angry. I understand you're afraid. But the things I could teach you—if you knew the heights of passion we could find." His breath shuddered. Ivy's arms were around me cool and light—gentling me to him against my will. I could smell her rich scent of dark incense and ash. He had her perfectly.
"Let me show you?" the vision of Ivy whispered, and I closed my eyes. "Just a taste…I know I can change your mind."
It was pleading, heavy with her vulnerable desires. It was everything she hadn't said, everything she wouldn't. My eyes opened as my scar flashed to life. God, no. Fire raced to my groin. Knees buckling, I tried to push away. Demon-red eyes shifted to a liquid brown, and his grip grew firmer, pulling me closer until his breath came and went on my neck. "Gently, Rachel," her voice whispered. "I could be so gentle. I could be everything a man can't be. Everything you want. Just one little word, Rachel. Tell me you will?"
I couldn't…I couldn't deal with this right now. "Didn't you have something for me to do?" I said. "The sun will be up soon and I need to get to bed."
"Slowly," he crooned, Ivy's breath smelling of oranges. "There's only one first time."
"Let go of me," I said tightly. "You aren't Ivy and I'm not interested."
Ivy's passion-filled black eyes narrowed, but Al's attention was over my shoulder and I didn't think it was anything I had said. He let go of me, and I stumbled to catch my balance. A shimmer of ever-after cascaded over him, melting his features back to his usual vision of a young British lord of the eighteenth century. The glasses were back to hide his eyes, and he adjusted them on his thin-bridged nose. "How grand," he said, his accent shifting as well. "Ceri."
There was the distant boom of the front door crashing open. "Rachel!" came her voice, high and frightened. "He's this side of the lines!"
Heart pounding, I spun. I took a breath to warn her, but it was too late. My outstretched hand fell as she lurched into the room, her simple white dress furling about her bare feet as she stopped in the archway. Green eyes wide and soulful, she put a hand to her chest atop Ivy's crucifix. "Rachel…" she breathed, dismay slumping her shoulders.
Al took a step and she spun in a dancer's circle, toe pointed and unbound hair furling. She recited an unheard poem laced with darkness, and a ripple of line energy cascaded between us. White-faced and holding her arms, she stared at him, trembling within her small circle.
The stately demon beamed, adjusting the lace about his collar. "Ceri. How splendid to see you. I miss you, love," he almost purred.
The young woman's chin trembled. "Banish him, Rachel," she said, her fear obvious.
I tried to swallow, failing. "I tapped a line. He found precedence. He has a task for me."
Her eyes widened. "No…"
Al frowned. "I haven't been in the library in a thousand years. They were whispering behind my back, Ceri. I had to renew my card. It was most embarrassing. Everyone knows you're gone. Zoë is making my tea. It's the most awful tea I've ever had—he can't hold the sugar spoon with only two digits. Do come back." His pleasant face creased into a smile. "I'll make it worth your soul."
Ceri jerked. Chin high, she said haughtily, "My name is Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate."
A rough sound of mirth escaped him. Taking off his glasses, he leaned an elbow against the counter. Mocking gaze on mine, he murmured, "Ceri, be a dear and make a spot of tea?"
My face went slack as Ceri dropped her head and took a step. Al chuckled when she made a cry of self-disgust and stopped at the edge of her circle. Tiny fists clenched, she fumed.
"Old habits die hard," he mocked.
Bile bubbled up. Even now she was his. "Leave her alone," I snarled.
From nowhere, a white-gloved hand struck me. I spun into the counter, jaw burning. Gasping, I hunched over it with my hair falling about my face. I was getting tired of this.
"Don't hit her!" Ceri said, her voice high and virulent.
"Does it bother you?" he said lightly. "Pain moves her more than fear. Which is good—pain keeps a person alive longer than fear."
My hurt turned to anger. Eyebrows high, he dared me to protest as I found my breath. His goat eyes slid to the head-sized vat he had brought with him. "Let's get started, shall we?"
I looked at the pot, recognizing the brew by the smell. It was the one to make a person into a familiar. Fear chilled me, and I wrapped my arms about myself. "I'm already coated with your aura," I said. "Making me take more isn't going to make a difference."
"I didn't ask for your opinion."
I sprang back as he moved. Grinning, he extended the basket that had appeared in his hand. I could smell wax. "Set the candles," he ordered, amused at my quick reaction.
"Rachel…" Ceri whispered, but I couldn't look at her. I had promised to be his familiar, and now I would be. Miserable, my thoughts went to Ivy as I set the milky green candles at the spots marked by black nail polish. Why couldn't I make good choices?
My grip on the last candle trembled. It had gouges on it, as if something had tried to break the circle by going through it. Something with big nasty claws.
"Rachel!" Al barked, and I jumped. "You didn't set them with their place names."
Still holding the last candle, I stared blankly. Past him, Ceri nervously licked her lips.
"You don't know their place names," Al added, and I shook my head, not wanting to be hit again, but Al only sighed. "I'll set them
myself when I light them," he grumbled, his pale face taking on a ruddy tinge. "I expected more of you than this. Apparently you've been spending most of your time with earth magic, neglecting your ley line arts."
"I'm an earth witch," I said. "Why would I bother?"
Ceri jerked as Al threatened to smack me again, her almost translucent hair swirling. "Let her go, Algaliarept. You don't want her for a familiar."
"Offering to take her place?" he mocked, and I took a fearful breath that she might.
"No!" I shouted, and he laughed.
"Don't fret, Rachel, love," he crooned, and I flinched when he ran a gloved finger across my jawline, tracing the path down my arm to my hand to take the last candle from me. "I keep my familiars until something better comes along, and despite you being as ignorant as a frog, you're capable of holding almost twice the line energy that she can." He leered. "Lucky you."
Clapping his white-gloved hands once, he spun to make his coattails furl. "Now. Watch closely, Rachel. You'll be lighting my candles tomorrow. These are words that move mortals and gods alike, making all equal and capable of keeping my circle whole against even Newt."
Swell.
"Salax," he said as he lit the first candle from the pencil-thick red taper that had appeared in his gloved hand. "Aemulatio," he said as he lit the second. "Adfictatio, cupidus, and my favorite, inscitia," he said as he lit the last one. Smiling, the still-glowing taper vanished. I felt him tap a line, and with a translucent swirl of red and black, his circle rose to arch closed over our heads. My skin prickled from its strength, and I clasped my arms about myself.
These are a few of my favorite things, I heard patter through my mind, and I stifled a hysterical giggle. I was going to be a demon's familiar. There was no way out of it now.
Al's head jerked up at the ugly choking sound, and Ceri's face went still. "Algaliarept," she pleaded. "You're pushing her too hard. Her will is too strong to bend easily."
"I'll break my familiars the way I see fit," he said calmly. "A little grounding, and she'll be as right as rain in the desert." One hand on his hip and the other cupping his chin, he eyed me speculatively. "Time for your bath, love."
Algaliarept snapped his fingers with a showman's flair. His hand opened, and a cedar-slatted bucket appeared hanging from it. My eyes widened as he threw its contents at me.
Cold water smacked into me. My breath whooshed out in an affronted yelp. It was saltwater, stinging my eyes and dribbling into my mouth. Reality washed through me, clearing my head. He was making sure I didn't have any potions in me to contaminate the coming spell. "I don't use potions, you big green turd!" I shouted, shaking my arms in my sodden sleeves.
"See?" Al was clearly pleased. "All better."
The slight ache of my ribs intruded as my pain charm broke. Most of the water was soaking my spell book library. If I survived this, I'd have to air them all out. What a jerk.
"Ooooh, your eye is doing nicely," he said as he reached forward to touch it. "Eating your roommate's Brimstone, are we? Wait until you try the real stuff. It will knock your socks off."
I jerked back when his gloved hand brushed my skin with the scent of lavender, but Al's hand dropped lower to grasp my hair. Shrieking, I swung my foot up. He caught it, moving faster than I could follow. Ceri watched in pity as I fought, helpless. Holding my foot high, he forced me against the counter. His glasses had been knocked aside, and he smiled at me with a domineering delight. "The hard way," he whispered. "Marvelous."
"No!" I exclaimed as a pair of sheers suddenly glinted in his hand.
"Hold still," he said, dropping my foot and pinning me against the counter.
I wiggled and spit at him, but he had me against the counter and I could do nothing. I panicked as I heard metal sheering. He let go by turning misty, and I fell to the floor.
Hand clutching my hair, I scrambled to my feet. "Stop it! Just stop it!" I shouted, alternating my attention between his glee and the chunk he had cut from my hair. Damn it, it was at least four inches long. "Do you know how long it takes to grow my hair out!"
Al gave Ceri a sidelong glance as the scissors disappeared and he dropped my hair into the potion. "She's worried about her hair?"
My gaze shot to the red strands floating on top of Al's brew, and as I stood there in my soggy sweater, I went cold. That vat of potion wasn't for Al to give me more of his aura. It was for me giving him mine. "Oh, hell no!" I exclaimed, backing up. "I'm not giving you my aura!"
Al plucked a ceramic spoon from the rack hanging over the center island counter and pushed the strands of hair down. He had a refined elegance in his velvet and lace, every inch of him as trim and debonair as inhumanly possible. "Is that a refusal, Rachel?" he murmured. "Please tell me it was?"
"No," I whispered. There was nothing I could do. Nothing.
His smile went wider. "Now your blood to quicken it, love."
Pulse pounding, I looked from the needle between his finger and thumb to the vat. If I ran, I was his. If I did this, he could use me through the lines. Damn, damn, and double damn.
Numbing my thoughts, I took the tarnished silver needle. My mouth went dry as its heavy weight filled my grip. It was as long as my palm and elaborately tooled. The tip was copper so the silver wouldn't interfere with the charm. Peering closer, I felt my stomach turn. There was a naked twisted body writhing around the barrel. "God save me," I whispered.
"He's not listening. He's too busy."
I stiffened. Al had come up behind me and was whispering in my ear.
"Finish the potion, Rachel." His breath was hot on my cheek, and I couldn't move as he pulled my hair back. A shudder rippled through me as he tilted his head and bent closer. "Finish it…" he breathed, his lips brushing my skin. I could smell starch and lavender.
Teeth gritted, I gripped the needle and stabbed it into me. My held breath came out, and I held it again. I thought I heard Ceri crying.
"Three drops," Al whispered, nuzzling my neck.
My head hurt. Blood pounding, I held my finger over the vat and massaged three drops into it. The scent of redwood rose, briefly overpowering the cloying stench of burnt amber.
"Mmmm, richer." His hand wrapped around mine, taking the needle back. It vanished in a smear of ever-after, and his grip shifted to my bleeding finger. "Give me a taste?"
I jerked back as far from him as I could, my arm stretched out between us. "No."
"Leave her alone!" Ceri pleaded.
Slowly Al's grip loosened. He watched me, a new tension rising in him.
I wrestled my hand away and put another step between us. I clutched my arms about me, cold despite the heater blowing on my bare feet.
"Get on the mirror," he said, his face expressionless behind his smoked glasses.
My gaze shot to it waiting for me on the floor. "I—I can't," I whispered.
His thin lips pressed together, and I gritted my teeth to keep silent when he picked me up and set me on it. I inhaled, eyes widening when I felt like I slipped two inches into the mirror. "Oh God, oh God," I moaned, wanting to reach for the counter, but Al was in the way, grinning.
"Push your aura off," he said.
"I can't," I panted, feeling myself hyperventilate.
Al pulled his glasses down his thin nose and looked at me over them. "Doesn't matter. It's dissolving like sugar in the rain."
"No," I whispered. My knees started shaking and the pounding in my head worsened. I could feel my aura slipping away and Al's taking a stronger hold on me.
"Capital and fine," Al said, his goat eyes on the mirror.
My gaze followed his, and I clutched at my stomach. I could see myself in it. My face was covered in Al's aura, black and empty. Only my eyes showed, a faint glow flickering about them. It was my soul, trying to make enough aura to put between Al's aura and me. It wasn't enough as the mirror sucked it all up and I could feel Al's presence sink into me.
I found I was panting. I imagined what it must have been like for Ceri, her
soul utterly gone and Al's aura seeping into her like this all the time, alien and wrong.
I shook. Hands clasped over my mouth, I looked frantically for something to throw up in. Gagging, I lurched off the mirror. I would not spew. I wouldn't.
"Marvelous," Al said as I hunched over, my teeth clenched and my bile rising. "You got all of it. Here. I'll just slip it into the vat for you."
His voice was cheery and bright, and as I peered at him from around my hair, Al dropped the mirror into the potion. The brew flashed to clear. Just like I knew it would.
Ceri was sitting on the floor, crying with her head on her knees. She pulled her head up, and I thought she looked all the more beautiful for her tears. I only looked ugly when I cried.
I jumped when a thick yellowed tome hit the counter beside me. The light through the window was starting to brighten, but the clock said it was only five. Almost three hours before the sun would rise to end this nightmare, unless Al ended it sooner.
"Read it."
Looking down, I recognized it. It was the book I had found in my attic, the one that Ivy claimed wasn't among the ones she planted up there for me, the very same one that I had given to Nick to hold for me after I accidentally used it to make him my familiar and the same book that Al had tricked away from us. The one Algaliarept wrote to make people into demon familiars. Shit.
I swallowed hard. My fingers looked pale as I put them on the text, running down to find the incantation. It was in Latin, but I knew the translation. "Some to you, but all to me," I whispered. "Bound by ties made so by plea."
"Pars tibi, totum mihi," Al said, grinning. "Vinctus vinculuis, prece fractis."
My fingers started shaking. "Moon made safe, ancient light made sane. Chaos decreed, taken tripped if bane."
"Luna servata, lux sanata. Chaos statutum, pejus minutum. Go on. Finish."
There was only one line left. One line, and the spell would be complete. Nine words, and my life would be a living hell whether I was on this side of the lines or not. I took a breath. Then another. "Lee of mind," I whispered. My voice trembled, and it was getting harder to breathe. "Bearer of pain. Slave until the worlds are slain…"
