by Kim Harrison
“A curse?” I asked, backing up until I felt Bis behind me.
“It wouldn’t work if it wasn’t.” Al eyed me over his smoked glasses and smiled to show me his blocky teeth. “I may not have much, but I do have auras, all lined up in pretty jars, like some people collect wine. I specialize in the eighteenth century. It was a good century for souls.”
I stifled a shiver, telling myself it was from the cold. “I’d rather wait until mine replenishes itself, thanks.”
“Like I care what you’d rather?” Turning to make his coattails furl, Al looked across the graveyard to the nearby line. “I’ll be back in five minutes,” he said as he started to go misty. “Soon as I remember where Ceri hid the little things. Wait for me there,” he said, pointing at the nearby ley line like I was a dog. “I don’t want you passing out when I come back. And have your bag with you. You’re going to pay for this by starting early today. Chop-chop!”
“Al…,” I complained, irritated that he would try to disguise his cheapness with a supposed interest in my welfare. He didn’t care if I passed out or not. But it wouldn’t cost as much to cross into the ever-after if he were in a line, and though he wouldn’t admit it, Al was so far up credit creek that even this minuscule difference was important.
“There,” Al said, pointing at the ground. A shimmer cascaded over him, and he was gone. Only his footprints in the snow and the lingering scent of burnt amber remained.
I exhaled in annoyance and looked at the tall wall surrounding the property. It was going to be another full twenty-four hours before Ivy and I could go talk to Skimmer. Not to mention that the I.S. might find Mia during that time and get someone killed. Concerned at the sound of running water, I turned to Bis, surprised to find him spitting across the graveyard to coat individual grave markers in ice. He was getting smaller by the second, turning white as he warmed up by absorbing the warmth from the water before he let it go. Talk about weird.
“There is no way I’m taking anyone’s aura,” I muttered, imagining Al sitting on me and holding my nose to make me open my mouth. The truth was, I’d been over to his apartments enough times now that he probably had a strand of hair to target a spell to me. All he had to do was twist the curse and I’d be wearing someone else’s aura. Nice.
Bis spit tiny little ice cubes to get his balance perfect, then flew up to land on the angel’s shoulder. He looked a little ill. “You want me to come with you? To the ever-after?”
The kid looked scared to death, and my heart went out to him. “No. Absolutely not,” I said firmly, looking for my discarded mirror and my forgotten bag of cookies. “Al was just jerking you around. I wouldn’t take you even if you asked. It’s nasty over there.” His wings drooped in relief, and I added, “Look, I don’t want to go into the church. It would be just like Al to show up and cause trouble. Will you tell Ivy it didn’t work and bring my bag out here? It’s in my closet, already packed. Oh, and make sure she calls the correctional facility to set up something for Monday.”
Safety was a good reason for not going back in the church, but the truth of it was, I didn’t want to have to deal with Jenks. Crap, I didn’t have time to waste a day in the ever-after keeping Al at arm’s length and going to parties. It seemed that’s all we ever did. Al called it networking. No wonder the demon was broke.
“Sure, Ms. Morgan,” the gargoyle said, his eyes downcast as if he knew why I was sending him instead of going myself. Bis stretched his wings, going black as he drew all his warmth into his core to maintain his body heat while making the short flight to the church. His leathery wings beat once, and he was airborne, looking scary as he flew to the church.
Alone, I snatched up the scrying mirror and my bag of cookies. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing someone else’s aura. I’d rather just suffer the pain. Head down, I trudged through the snow, wincing when I felt the icy warmth of the line take me. Usually it was hard to feel them like this, but my aura was thin and this was my line, unused by anyone else, as it was rather small and surrounded by the dead. People were superstitious.
Finding my footprints from last week, I went a few steps beyond and set the cookies and mirror on a nearby tombstone. “Thanks, Beatrice,” I whispered, reading the stone marker. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stared at the night and tried to stay warm. It was sort of like waiting at the bus stop, and I found myself falling into blank-stare mode. With a wry smile, I carefully unfocused my attention—slowly, until I knew it wouldn’t hurt—to bring up my second sight, hoping to spot Al before he popped in to scare the crap out of me.
The red ribbon of power was suddenly around me, looking like an aurora borealis as it swelled and ebbed, always there, always fluctuating, running off to who knew where. Surrounding it was a broken landscape of stunted scrub and cold rock. Everything had a red sheen to it now except for the moon and the grave markers, and though the moon looked its normal silver now, when I crossed over to the ever-after, it would be an ugly shade of red. Not that we’d stay on the surface long.
I shivered, not liking it when my hair started to move in the wind from the ever-after. There was no snow, but I’d be willing to bet it was colder there. “Any time, Al,” I called, then leaned against Beatrice’s tombstone. He was going to make me wait. Son of a bastard.
“Ah, mistress witch,” a faintly familiar voice sighed. “You’re as smart as a steel trap, but I opine you won’t keep body and soul together much longer. Nohow can I fix it if you maintain your course.”
I spun around, going warm when I saw Al behind me, casually leaning against a tombstone with one booted foot cocked on a toe. He had made himself look like Pierce, and face hot, I gritted my teeth. But then I realized that Al didn’t know about Pierce, wouldn’t know to look for him in my thoughts, and wouldn’t know what the man called me, or the curious accent he had—a mix of rough street talk and pre-Turn English.
Shocked, I stared at the ghost, dressed in an old-style three-piece suit and the memory of the long coat that had once belonged to my brother. He was clean shaven this time, and had a funny-looking hat on his head. Realizing I was looking at him, he jerked himself upright, his eyes wide in the moonlight. “Pierce?” I said, unsure. “Is that you?”
The small man’s jaw dropped and he took his hat off as he stepped from the stone. There were no footprints behind him. “It must be the line,” he whispered in wonder. “We’re both in the line, and you’re communing with it…using your second sight, aren’t you?” His entire face brightened in the light from the back porch. “You don’t do that very often, stand in a line.”
I couldn’t move, not believing it. “My dad told me not to because you never know what you’ll see,” I said lightly. I felt unreal, dizzy.
He shrugged, and delight filled me on a quick intake of breath. I crossed the space between us only to jerk to a stop, smile fading. It had to be a joke. It had to be one of Al’s perverted jokes. “What’s the word to open my dad’s locket?” I asked cautiously.
Pierce leaned forward, and when his breath was cold, not warm, as Al’s would be, I felt a surge of hope. “Lily white,” he whispered, touching his nose, and elated, I reached out a gloved finger and jabbed his shoulder. It hit him, and he rocked back.
“Pierce!” I exclaimed, giving him a fierce hug that made him grunt in surprise. “My God, I can touch you.” Then I let him go to give his shoulder a smack. “Why didn’t you do this before? Stand in a line, I mean! I’m here every week. I was going to try to stir that spell again, but now I don’t have to! Damn, it’s good to see you!”
The small man searched my face, grinning as the scent of coal dust, shoe polish, and redwood seeped into me. “I’ve been in a line when you were,” he said. “I abide here most times you leave to fulfill your bargain with the demon, and I abide here when you return.”
“You’ve been spying on me?” I asked, blushing when I remembered I’d called Pierce sexy not five minutes ago in the kitchen. Jenks’s claim that he was going to sell our secre
ts was ridiculous, but there had been plenty going on in the church that I wouldn’t want my mom to know, much less an almost stranger from the nineteenth century.
“Spying?” Pierce said, looking affronted as he put his hat back on. “No. I’ve been in the belfry most times. Apart from when the TV was spelled. That’s a powerful fine magic there.” His expression shifted to one of a satisfied appreciation as he took me in, running his eyes from my hair to my feet. “You’ve grown into a damned fine young woman, mistress witch.”
“Well, it’s good to see you, too.” My eyebrows rose as I pulled my hand from his, sure now that he had been in the kitchen before I’d come out here. I went over in my mind what I’d said, deciding there’d been nothing I wouldn’t want him to hear and a lot he probably ought to know—apart from me telling Jenks to get bent, perhaps. Smiling deviously, I rocked back on my heels to intentionally catch my balance a few inches back, a subtle reminder that I wasn’t that eighteen-year-old-girl anymore. Trouble was, I think he was glad of it.
Sure enough, his own smile deepened as he recognized me distancing myself. Gaze intent, he inclined his head. The porch light caught his eyes, and they glinted, lingering on my face, making me wonder if I had chocolate chip cookie dough on my chin.
“Land sakes, how could you have gotten so deep so fast,” he said, his brow furrowing as he shook his head in dismay and changed the subject. “Beholden to a demon? You were so innocent when I left you.”
His cool fingers tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and a shiver struck me when I took his hand out of my curls and he gripped my fingers. “Um…,” I murmured, then remembered what I was going to say. “I had to save Trent. I promised him I’d get him home safely. I still have my soul. Al doesn’t own me.”
The slamming of the back door jerked me around, but it was only Bis. His frightening, batlike silhouette lurched closer, moving heavily from the bag he was carrying. I took a breath to ask him to get Ivy, and Pierce touched my chin, turning me to him.
“Al will be back to fetch you soon,” he said, his expression taking on a sudden urgency. “I beg you to be of a mind to find me when your lesson is done. I’ll allow we can talk now, and that’s enough. Drawing upon a coven for power to give me a body for a night isn’t worth the agony until I find a way to be whole again. Just promise me you won’t tell your demon about me. Don’t ask for his help. I can fix this on my own hook.”
Bis landed heavily atop my canvas bag, his skin black and cold and his eyes widening as he saw Pierce. He doesn’t want me to ask Al about him? I thought. When there might be a charm or spell that could bring him back to life? Jenks saying he was spying for secrets rose in my mind, and my smile faded. People don’t ask you to do things unless they have a reason.
Seeing me hesitate, Pierce frowned, looking between me and the startled gargoyle. “It’s but a small thing, Rachel. I’m of a mind to tell you why, just not directly.”
“You can be of a mind to tell me now,” I said, starting to warm.
My ears popped, and I gasped as Al was suddenly behind Pierce, eyes glowing and white-gloved hand reaching out. Pierce dove for the far edge of the line, but it was too late.
“Rachel, look out!” Bis shouted, and I stumbled backward, falling over my bag, my elbow hitting the cookies. There was a whoosh of air as Bis became airborne, and I looked up at the hiss of the gargoyle, hovering between me and Al. Al’s elegantly coated arm was wrapped around Pierce’s neck, tightening until his feet dangled. His face went red as he struggled.
Bis landed between Al and me, his wings spread to look bigger since he was too cold to melt snow. “Al!” I shouted, moving forward until Bis hissed at me. “What are you doing?”
Al peered over his smoked glasses at us, his red, goat-slitted eyes delighted. “Getting a better apartment,” he drawled, sniffing at Bis in warning.
Oh shit. “Al, you’ve got to stop doing this,” I said, pulse hammering as I shot a glance at the church, but no one was at the windows. “Snatching people talking to me is not fair!”
Al smiled to show his thick, blocky teeth. “So?”
Pierce struggled, his hat falling from him, to vanish before it hit the snow. “Give this no mind, mistress witch,” he gasped, face red and feet trying to find the ground. “This seven-by-nine demon is of no circumstance. I’ll be—”
Al jerked his arm, cutting off Pierce’s words, and I winced. “Busy,” the demon said. “You’re going to be busy.” Eyes on mine, Al ran his hand suggestively under Pierce’s coat, and the small man jerked.
“Hey!” I shouted, but Bis wouldn’t let me get closer, pacing a line in the snow, his wings spread and placing his feet with an odd stiffness. “Let him go. This isn’t fair. We need to set up some rules about you popping in and snagging people. I mean it!”
“You mean it?” Al laughed, shifting his grip until Pierce grunted and went still. “Looks like I don’t need my name to find familiars after all,” he crooned.
The thought of Pierce on the demon auction block was like ice down my back, but that Al might start popping in whenever he felt like it and snag whoever was with me was absolutely terrifying. “No way,” I said, starting to get angry. “I am not going to be your bait. Let him go. If you want him, you catch him the old-fashioned way, but I won’t be used like this. Got it, goat eyes?”
I was so pissed I could have screamd. Pierce looked pained at my words, but Al simply laughed again. “Use you as bait? Capital idea!” the demon cooed, then grimaced at Bis, still stalking back and forth between us. “The thought never occurred to me. I simply saw something I wanted and took it.” His eyes narrowed. “It’s what I do.”
“He’s worthless!” I exclaimed, almost stomping my foot and not believing him. “Pierce is a ghost. He can’t tap a line. You’re doing this to irritate me. Let him go!”
A slow smile grew on Al’s face, and he fondled the hair about Pierce’s ear, making him stiffen. “You don’t know who this is, do you,” Al said, sending a chill of doubt through me; he was far too satisfied. “There are curses that can cure that tiny little problem of all spirit and no body, and this piece of witchcrap…” Al gave Pierce a shake. “This one here? He is worth a little extra time in the kitchen. It’s just a matter of finding the right curse. He’s the golden boy, the one who got away, and he’s going to pay my bills for the next thirty years.”
I clenched my hands, cold in their gloves. Pierce had a history with demons? Damn it! “You know him?” I said, my words a white mist. It would explain why Pierce was so good with ley lines. But he was so nice. He was so…normal!
“I do not practice demonology!” Pierce exclaimed. “Let me go directly, you maggot-ridden piece of sheep liver, or you will suffer a powerful defeat. You’re of no circumstance. A second-rate—”
Al flexed his arm, and Pierce choked. “I never managed to actually find this one before,” Al said, regaining his usual supercilious air though Pierce dug at his fingers around his throat. “But I’ve heard of him, itchy witch. Everyone has heard of Gordian Nathaniel Pierce. He almost killed Newt, which is why I’m going to make enough money off him that you can keep my summoning name for the next decade. Someone will pay big for him.” His voice lowered. “Even if they do nothing but poke at him.”
Not a demon practitioner, but a demon killer, I thought with a weird sense of tense relief. Even Bis looked relieved. I looked at the church, but still, no movement. “Al, you can’t take people talking to me,” I said, and when Al laughed, I blurted, “Then I’ll buy him!”
Bis turned to me with wide eyes, and even Pierce opened his mouth to protest, grunting when Al jerked him. “Not on your soul,” the demon crooned, pulling Pierce close until the man’s lips pressed together defiantly and his eyes gleamed in hate. “Well, maybe…,” Al mused, then shook his head. “No, not even on your soul,” he affirmed. “I won’t sell him to you. Despite that witch-class ceiling he has, he’s more dangerous than you right now. He’s at his peak. Besides, how many nas
ty little men do you need for your familiars?” he said lightly, looking at Bis. “He’s a bad man who likes to try to kill demons.”
“I’m not a demon,” I said, my voice trembling, and Al’s eyes narrowed.
“I am,” he intoned. “Consider your night off as a thank-you for luring him to me, itchy witch. Your lessons are canceled until further notice. I’m going to be busy for a while.”
“Al!” I shouted as they started to go misty. “Don’t you walk away from me!”
Smiling at me from over his glasses, Al shook his head. “You’re not in control, Rachel. I am. Of everything.”
Furious, I shouted, “You’re abusing your right to check on me, and you know it! Give him back and stop abducting people I’m with, or so help me I’m going to…to…”
Al hesitated, and I started to shake. “Do what?” he asked, and Pierce closed his eyes in misery. “You can’t draw on a line until your aura heals, and I’m not fixing it for you.” Glancing at Bis, he edged forward until the gargoyle hissed. “You’re helpless, Rachel Mariana Morgan.”
I dropped back, stymied. Damn it, using all three of my names was a warning, probably the only one I’d ever get. If I summoned him I might get my way, but I’d lose what little respect he’d given me and be back to being treated like a demon summoner. And I liked the respect he’d been granting me, little as it was. I enjoyed not having to fear every time the air pressure shifted. Though the parties in the ever-after were a pain in the ass, Al’s kitchen was peaceful. I didn’t want that to end. But his abducting of people was going to stop.
“This is not over,” I vowed, trembling from frustration. “We are going to settle this, and you’re going to let him go!”
“How, itchy witch?” he scoffed.
My expression twisted as I searched for an answer that wasn’t there.
Seeing me without words, Al jerked Pierce up, almost off his feet. “Don’t call me. I’ll call you,” he said, and he and Pierce vanished.
