Every Witch Way But Dead th-3

by Ким Харрисон

  Al's grin widened and his eyes flashed black. "Mentem tegens, malum ferens," he intoned. "Semper servus. Dum duret—mundus."

  With an eager impatience, Al pulled his gloves from his hands and plunged his hands into the vat. I jerked. A twang reverberated through me, followed by gut-wrenching dizziness. Black and smothering, the charm wrapped about my soul, numbing me.

  Red-knuckled hands dripping, Al steadied himself against the counter. A shimmer of red cascaded over him, and his image blurred before settling. He blinked, seemingly shaken.

  I took a breath, then another. It was done. He had my aura for good—all but what my soul was desperately trying to replace to insinuate between my being and Al's aura still coating me. Maybe in time it would get better, but I doubted it.

  "Good," he said, tugging his sleeves down and wiping his hands off on a black towel that had appeared in his grip. White gloves materialized, hiding his hands. "Good and done. Capital."

  Ceri cried softly, but I was too drained to even look at her.

  My cell phone chirped from my bag on the far counter, sounding absurd.

  The last of Al's fleeting disquiet vanished. "Oh, do let me answer," he said, breaking the circle as he went to get it.

  I shuddered as I felt a slight pull from my empty center as the energy went back through Al and into the line it originated from. Al's eyebrows were high in delight when he turned with my cell phone in his gloved hand. "I wonder who it is?" he simpered.

  Unable to stand any longer, I slipped to the floor, my back to the counter as I hugged my knees. The vent air was warm on my bare feet, but my damp jeans soaked up the cold. I was Al's familiar. Why was I even bothering to keep the air moving in and out of my lungs?

  "That's why they take your soul," Ceri whispered. "You can't kill yourself if they have your will."

  I stared, only now understanding.

  "Hello-o-o-o?" Al purred, leaning against the sink, the pink cylinder looking odd against his old world charm. "Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos! What a delight!"

  My head came up. "Nick?" I breathed.

  Al held a long hand over the receiver and simpered. "It's your boyfriend. I'll field it for you. You look tired." Wrinkling his nose, he turned to the phone. "Feel that, did you?" he said cheerfully. "Something missing, now is there? Be careful what you wish for, little wizard."

  "Where's Rachel!" came Nick's voice, thin and tinny. He sounded panicked, and my heart sank. I reached out, knowing Al wouldn't give the phone to me.

  "Why, she's at my feet," Al said, grinning. "Mine, all mine. She made a mistake, and now she's mine. Send her flowers for her grave. It's all you can do."

  The demon listened for a moment, emotions flickering over him. "Oh, don't be making promises you can't keep. It is so-o-o-o lower class. As it happens, I'm not in need of a familiar anymore, so I won't be responding to your little summons; don't call me. She saved your soul, little man. Too bad you never told her how much you loved her. Humans are so stupid."

  He broke the connection with Nick in mid-protest. Snapping the phone closed, he dropped it back in my bag. It started ringing immediately, and he tapped it once. My phone played its obnoxious good-bye song and shut off.

  "Now." Al clapped his hands. "Where were we? Ah yes. I'll be right back. I want to see it work." Red eyes glowing in delight, he vanished with a small shift of air.

  "Rachel!" Ceri cried. She fell into me, dragging me out of the broken circle. I pushed at her, too depressed to try to get away. It was coming. Al was going to fill me with his force, making me feel his thoughts, turning me into a copper-top battery that could make his tea and do his dishes. The first of my helpless tears dribbled out, but I couldn't find the will to hate myself for them. I knew I should be crying. I had gambled my life to put Piscary away and lost.

  "Rachel! Please!" Ceri pleaded, her grip on my arm hurting as she tried to drag me. My damp feet made a squeaking noise, and I pushed at her, trying to get her to stop.

  A red bubble of ever-after popped into existence where Al had pinged out. The air pressure violently shifted, and both Ceri and I clasped our hands to our ears.

  "Damn it all to heaven and back!" Al swore, his velvet green frock open and in disarray. His hair was wild and his glasses were gone. "You did everything right!" he shouted, gesturing violently. "I've got your aura. You've got mine. Why can't I reach you through the lines!"

  Ceri knelt behind me, her arm protectively about me. "It didn't work?" she quavered, pulling me back a little more. Her wet finger traced a quick circle about us.

  "Do I look like it worked?" he exclaimed. "Do I look happy to you?"

  "No," she breathed, and her circle expanded about us, black-smeared but strong. "Rachel," she said, giving me a squeeze. "You're going to be okay."

  Al went still. Deathly quiet, he turned, his boots making a soft sound against the flooring. "No, she isn't."

  My eyes widened at his frustrated anger. Oh God. Not again.

  I stiffened as he tapped a line and sent it crashing into me. With it came a whisper of his emotion, satisfied and anticipatory. Fire coursed through me, and I screamed, pushing Ceri away. Her bubble burst in a glittering sensation of hot needles, adding to my agony.

  Curled into a fetal position, I frantically thought the word, Tulpa, slumping in relief as the torrent coursed through me and settled in the sphere in my head. Panting, I slowly pulled my head up. Al's confusion and frustration filled me. My anger grew until it overshadowed his emotions.

  Al's thoughts in mine shifted to stark surprise. Vision blurring as what I was seeing conflicted with what my brain said was true, I stumbled to my feet. Most of the candles were out, knocked over to make puddles of wax and scenting the air with smoke. Al felt my defiance through our link, and his face turned ugly when my pride for having learned to store energy seeped into him. "Ceri…" he threatened, his goat eyes narrowing.

  "It didn't work," I said, my voice low as I watched him from around my stringy wet hair. "Get out of my kitchen."

  "I'm going to have you, Morgan," Al snarled. "If I can't take you by right, I'll by god beat you into submission and pull you in, broken and bleeding."

  "Oh yeah?" I came back with. I glanced at the pot that had held my aura. His eyes widened in surprise as he knew my thought the instant I had it. The bond now went both ways. He had made a mistake.

  "Get out of my kitchen!" I exclaimed, dumping the line energy he had forced me to hold back through our familiar link and into him. I jerked upright as it all flowed from me and into him, leaving me empty. Al stumbled backward, shocked.

  "You canicula!" he cried, his image blurring.

  Staggering to remain upright, he tapped the line, adding more force.

  Eyes narrowing, I set my thoughts to loop it right back at him. Whatever he was going to send into me was going to end up right back in him.

  Al choked as he sensed what I was going to do. There was a sudden wrench in my gut and I stumbled, catching myself against the table as he broke the live connection between us. I stared at him across the kitchen, breath rough. This was going to be settled right here and now. One of us was going to lose. And it wasn't going to be me. Not in my kitchen. Not tonight.

  Al put one foot behind him, taking a deceptively relaxed stance. He ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it. His round smoked glasses appeared, and he buttoned his frock. "This isn't working," he said flatly.

  "No," I rasped. "It isn't."

  Safe in her circle, Ceri snickered. "You can't have her, Algaliarept, you big stupid," she mocked, making me wonder at her word choice. "You made the familiar gate swing both ways when you forced her to give you her aura. You're her familiar as much as she is yours."

  Al's momentary placid face blossomed into anger. "I've used this spell a thousand times to milk auras, and this has never happened before. And I am not her familiar."

  I watched, feeling tense and ill as a three-legged stool appeared behind Al. It looked like something Attila the Hun would have u
sed, with a red velvet cushion and horsehair fringe going to the floor. Not bothering to see if it was behind him, he sat, his expression puzzled.

  "That's why Nick called," I said, and Al gave me a patronizing look. When he took my aura, it broke the bond I had with Nick. He had felt it. Aw, crap. Al was my familiar?

  Ceri gestured that I should join her in her circle, but I couldn't chance that Al might hurt her in the instant it would take to reform it. Al, though, was preoccupied with his own thoughts.

  "This isn't right," he mumbled. "I've done this before with hundreds of witches with souls and it's never forged a bond this strong. What's so different about…"

  My stomach dropped as all visible emotion drained from him. He glanced at the clock above the sink, then me. "Come here, little witch."

  "No."

  He pressed his lips together and stood.

  Gasping, I backpedaled, but he had my wrist and pulled me to the island counter. "You've done this spell before," he said as he squeezed my pricked finger, making it bleed again. "When you made Nicholas Gregory Sparagmos your familiar. It was your blood in the brew, little witch, that invoked it?"

  "You know it was." I was too drained to be frightened anymore. "You were there." I couldn't see his eyes, but my reflection in his glasses looked ugly and pale with wet stringy hair.

  "And it worked," he said thoughtfully. "It didn't just bind you, it bound you tight enough for you to draw a line through him?"

  "That's why he left," I said, surprised I could still feel the pain.

  "Your blood kindled the spell fully…." Speculation wasthick in his goat eyes as he looked at me from over his glasses. He drew my hand up, and though I tried to wiggle free of him, he licked the blood from my finger with a cold, tingling sensation. "So subtly scented," he breathed, his eyes never leaving mine. "Like perfumed air your lover has walked through."

  "Let go," I said, pushing at him.

  "You should be dead," he said, his voice full of wonder. "How is it that you're still alive?"

  Jaw clenched, I worked at his grip on me, trying to get my fingers between him and my wrist. "I work hard at it." With a gasp, I fell back as he released his hold.

  "You work hard at it." Smiling, he took a step back and gave me a once-over. "The mad have a grace all their own. I must go start a study group."

  Frightened, I hunched over my wrist and held it.

  "And I will have the likes of you as my own, Rachel Mariana Morgan. Count on it."

  "I'm not going into the ever-after," I said tightly. "You'll have to kill me first."

  "You don't have a choice," he intoned, chilling me. "You tap a line when the sun is down, and I'll find you. You can't make the circle that can keep me out. If you aren't on holy ground, I'll beat you silly and drag you into the ever-after. And from there, you will not escape."

  "Try it," I threatened, reaching behind me to find the meat-tenderizing hammer hanging on the overhead rack. "You can't touch me unless you go solid, and it's going to hurt, red man."

  Brow furrowed in concern, Al hesitated. The thought flitted through me that it must be like swatting at a wasp. Timing is everything.

  Ceri was wearing a smile I didn't understand. "Algaliarept," she said softly. "You made a mistake. She found a loophole in your contract, and now you'll accept it and leave Rachel Mariana Morgan alone. If you don't, I'm going to start a school on holding line energy."

  The demon's face went blank. "Ah, Ceri? Wait a moment, love."

  Hammer in hand, I backed up until her bubble was cold at my back. Her hand reached out, and I jumped when she pulled me in, her circle flashing up almost before I knew it had fallen. My shoulders eased at the shimmer of black between us and Al. There was only the faintest glimmer of pale blue from her damaged aura visible through the smutAl had left on her. I patted her hand as she gave me a relieved, sideways hug. "Is that a problem?" I asked, not understanding why Al was so upset.

  Ceri was positively smug. "I escaped him knowing how. He'll get in trouble for it. Big trouble. I'm surprised he hasn't been called up on it yet. But then, no one knows." She turned her mocking green eyes on Al. "Yet."

  I felt an odd stab of alarm as I took in the savage satisfaction on her. She had known this all along, simply waiting until the information could best be used. The woman was more contriving than Trent, and she didn't seem to have a problem gambling with people's lives, either, mine included. Thank God she was on my side. She was, wasn't she?

  Al raised a protesting hand. "Ceri, we can talk about this."

  "In a week," she said confidently, "there won't be a ley line witch in Cincinnati that won't know how to be their own familiar. In a year, the world will be closed to you and your kind, and you will have to answer for it."

  "Is it that big of a deal?" I asked as Al adjusted his glasses and shifted from foot to foot. It was cold away from the vent, and I shivered in my damp clothes.

  "It's harder to lull a person into foolish choices if they can fight back," Ceri said. "If it gets out, their pool of potential familiars will be weak and undesirable in a matter of years."

  My mouth dropped open. "Oh."

  "I'm listening," Al said, sitting with an uncomfortable stiffness.

  Hope so strong it was almost painful raced through me. "Take your demon mark off me, break the familiar bond, agree to leave me alone, and I won't tell."

  Al snorted. "Not shy about asking for things, are you?"

  Ceri gave my arm a warning squeeze and let go. "Let me do this. I've written most of his nonverbal contracts the last seven hundred years. Can I speak for you?"

  I looked at her, her eyes alight and savage with her need for revenge. Slowly I set the hammer down. "Sure," I said, wondering just what, exactly, I had saved from the ever-after.

  She pulled herself straighter, an official air falling over her. "I propose that Al will take his mark off you and break the familiar bonds between you both, in return for your solemn vow to not teach anyone how to hold line energy. Furthermore, you and your kin by blood or the laws of man shall remain free of reprisal from the demon known as Algaliarept and his agents in this world or the ever-after from now until the two worlds collide."

  I tried to find enough spit to swallow, failing. I never would have thought of that.

  "No," Al said firmly. "That's three things to my one, and I'll not lose my hold on the likes of her completely. I want a way to recoup my loss. And if she crosses the lines, I don't care what agreement we have, she's mine."

  "Can we force him?" I said softly. "I mean, we do have him over a barrel?"

  Al chuckled. "I could call Newt in to arbitrate if you like…."

  Ceri went pale. "No." Taking a steadying breath, she looked at me, her confidence cracked but not shattered. "What of the three can you bear to keep?"

  I thought of my mother and my brother Robbie. Nick. "I want him to break the familiar bonds," I said, "and I want him to leave me and my kin by blood or law alone. I'll keep the demon mark and settle up later."

  Algaliarept brought his foot up and propped his ankle atop a bent knee. "Clever, clever witch," he agreed. "If she breaks her word, she forfeits her soul."

  Ceri's eyes went serious. "Rachel, if you teach anyone how to hold line energy, your soul belongs to Algaliarept. He can pull you into the ever-after at his will and you are his. Do you understand?"

  I nodded, believing for the first time that I might see the sunrise again. "What happens if he breaks his word?"

  "If he harms you or your kin—by his own volition—Newt will put Algaliarept in a bottle and you have a genie. It's standard boilerplate, but I'm glad you asked."

  My eyes widened. I looked from Al to her. "No shit?"

  She smiled at me, her hair floating as she tucked it behind an ear. "No shit."

  Al harrumphed, and we jerked our attentions back to him. "What about you?" he said, clearly annoyed. "What do you want for keeping your mouth shut?"

  The satisfaction of getting something back from
her former captor and tormentor was in Ceri's eyes. "You will take back the stain on my soul that I took in your stead, and you will not seek reprisal against me or my kin in body or law from now until the two worlds collide."

  "I'm not taking back a thousand years of curse imbalance," Al said indignantly. "That's why you were my damn familiar." He put both feet on the floor and leaned forward. "But I won't have it said I'm not agreeable. You keep the smut, but I'll let you teach one person how to hold line energy." A smile, contriving and satisfied, filled his unholy eyes. "One child. A girl child. Your daughter. And if she tells anyone, her soul is forfeit to me. Immediately."

  Ceri paled, and I didn't understand. "She can tell one of her daughters, and so on," she countered, and Al smiled.

  "Done." He stood. The glow of ever-after energy hovered about him like a shadow. Lacing his fingers together, he cracked his knuckles. "Oh, this is grand. This is good."

  I looked at Ceri in wonder. "I thought he'd be upset," I said softly.

  She shook her head, clearly worried. "He still has a hold on you. And he's counting on one of my kin to forget the seriousness of the arrangement and make a mistake."

  "The familiar bonds," I insisted, glancing at the dark window. "He breaks them now?"

  "The time of dissolution was never stated," Al said. He was touching the things he had brought into my kitchen, making them disappear in a smear of ever-after.

  Ceri drew herself up. "It was tacitly implied. Break your hold, Algaliarept."

  He looked over his glasses at her, smiling when he put a hand before and behind him and made a mocking bow. "It is a small thing, Ceridwen Merriam Dulciate. But you can't think less of me for trying."

  Humming, he adjusted his frock. A bowl cluttered with bottles and silver implements appeared on the island counter. There was a book atop it all, small with a handwritten title, the script elegant and looping. "Why is he so happy?" I whispered.