Tarnished and Torn
Page 27
I had almost been pressed, just like witches through the ages. I still couldn’t process it.
Rather than head for the exit, Aidan started up the main stairs to the second floor.
“Aidan? Where are you going? We need to call an ambulance, get her some help.”
“We don’t have time for that,” Aidan said, his breathing becoming labored with the effort of carrying Clarinda, who wasn’t a large woman but, after all, he was on his second set of stairs.
“Here, let me carry her the rest of the way,” Sailor offered, taking pity on the man.
“I’m fine,” Aidan snapped, shrugging him off. “But explain to Lily, if you will, what’s going on.”
“What is it?” I asked as we reached the second floor, and Aidan strode toward his office.
“I’m afraid this thing isn’t over.”
“Lloyd’s the one who killed Griselda, and who went after Renna and Eric.”
“Yes, but the others are still on the loose. Including your father. They’re headed here.”
“Here?” I had to jog to keep up with the men, and Oscar trotted along as fast as his little piggy legs would carry him. “Maybe I’m a little slow on the uptake, but if they’re headed here, shouldn’t we go, you know, not here?”
“Can’t run from this sort of thing. Too much is already in motion,” Aidan said as the door to his office opened of its own accord and we all slipped through.
Noctemus hissed at me, as was her wont. The feeling was mutual. Give me my pig over that cranky feline any day. Speaking of pigs, Oscar immediately scooted over to hide in the footwell of the desk.
Aidan laid Clarinda gently on his red velvet love seat, cradling her head on a down pillow. She moaned a bit, frowned, opened her eyes.
“Go back to sleep,” he said in a quiet, gentle tone, waving his hand very close in front of her face, casting a cocooning spell so she wouldn’t hear what we were talking about. She fell asleep.
Aidan glanced at Sailor. “You’re sure?”
“As sure as I can be.”
“And how sure is that?” Aidan snapped.
“As sure as any doctor would be, Aidan. You know as well as I do there are no guarantees, even with my sight. But she wouldn’t be any better off at the hospital than she is here, and if that demon gets hold of the Ojo del Fuego we’ll all be in a world of hurt.”
With a curt nod of his golden head, Aidan ceded the point.
I looked at both men, who seemed now to be avoiding my eyes. They were waiting for something. Apparently, this was the Lily show.
“What do you need me to do?”
“You don’t have the time or the resources to brew at home, Lily. I know you’re not as confident in other areas, but I’ll be here to help you.”
“As will I,” put in Sailor.
“As will Sailor,” Aidan said with an inclination of his head. Then under his breath he added, “For what that’s worth.”
Sailor’s eyes rolled to the ceiling.
“Could we please concentrate on what’s going on?” I said.
“When the others get here, they’ll call on . . . you know who. In order to have the strength to fight him, we’ll need our own demon to help.”
He was talking about Sitri, the demon I had bound at the San Francisco School of Fine Arts. For the first time since I had escaped being pressed, I lost my breath.
“You said that would be bad,” I said, shaking my head vehemently. “You said I wasn’t strong enough to control him. You said I would wind up like my father, bound to the whims of a demon. And you were right.”
“I know what I said.”
Chapter 24
Desperate, I looked toward Sailor, hoping for an ally. “There’s got to be another way.”
Sailor held my gaze with his, looking at me intently, but didn’t say anything.
Aidan continued to try to convince me. “You think if there was, I would be suggesting this? The fact is, you have the Ojo del Fuego—” I opened my mouth to deny it, but he held out his hand, palm out, to stop me. “Please, Lily, don’t bother to deny it. You have the Ojo, and don’t you dare tell me—or anyone else—where it is. I don’t want to know. But this guy will not stop in his quest. We could kill the Jones brothers and your father and the man in charge, and he will send more now that he knows who you are.”
“I’ll leave town.”
Sailor and I could run away together, use our combined talents to skate under the radar. And . . . we could be together. I would have to give up my friends and life here in San Francisco, but it would be better than risking submitting to a demon’s control.
“You can’t run from this. He commands legions, and he’s elemental. He will never cease to exist. He will never cease looking for you. You have to face him.”
Sailor stood, leaning back against the bookshelf, arms crossed over his chest. He held my eyes for a long moment, fingers of his intuition reaching out for my thoughts. He wasn’t so much reading my mind as reading me, as a man might read a woman, or vice versa.
A look of deep disappointment came over his face, and he shook his head. “You know how much I hate to admit it, but Aidan’s right. We have to do this here and now.”
I could feel the pendant between my breasts, under my shirt, starting to thrum. It seemed to be siding with the men. Traitor.
It seemed I had no alternative. I gave in to the inevitable. I had hoped to live the rest of my life without taking on another demon, but I would do it for my friends, and for my town.
“How do I start?”
• • •
Working with Aidan’s things was like an avid but humble cook being invited to whip up a meal in a fancy chef’s kitchen. I missed the familiarity of my own place, but I had to admit that the man had an excellently stocked magical arsenal.
“You’ll need to do a Lesser Banishing ritual of the Pentagram, obviously,” said Aidan. “As well as the Middle Pillar Ritual, just to prepare.”
I nodded. His reminder was unnecessary; the rites were second nature to me. But, I realized, Aidan was nervous. Going over the rote stuff was a way to find calm and center ourselves.
If I was the cook of this magical brew, Aidan was my sous-chef. He brought me herbs, his athame, white candles; then he set out incense, the triangle of Solomon, and a black mirror for the altar.
“Black mirror?” I asked. These were used in a way similar to that of crystal balls, as a method for scrying, or seeing, the beyond. “You, of all people, should know that I’m no good at scrying.”
“We’re going to try to keep Sitri on the astral plane, rather than the physical. He’ll appear through the mirror.”
“Okey dokey. If you say so, chief.”
I knew that since I had bound him, Sitri and I were connected by threads that formed channels, through which our energies radiated back to each other. The problem is these threads are a two-way street; what we cast can be used against us.
“They’re coming,” said Sailor. “Ten minutes, fifteen, tops.”
“Okay,” said Aidan. “Let’s get this started.”
Aidan had Sailor draw Sitri’s sigil on a piece of parchment. Aidan and I were both too powerful to do so—we might inadvertently call on the demon before we were ready, which would be disastrous.
I drew the magic circle carefully with the brew, placing a white candle at each of the four directions, east, south, north, west. Within this I sketched the pentagram with the five points marking the elements: earth, wind, fire, water, spirit. At the top I drew a triangle, within which was placed the black mirror.
Using the athame, I performed the cleansing rituals to establish the sacred circle, then began the evoking ritual while I was safely ensconced within the circle.
Holding the athame in both my hands, I pointed it at the parchment with Sitri’s sigil.
The pendant thrummed steadily now, and I could feel it lending me its power. Suddenly I felt sure, confident. I used the athame to cut a tiny “x” in the palms of both of my hands, then lifted the athame over my head and channeled the strength of all those witches that had come before me. They were part of me; their blood coursed through my veins. My helping spirit appeared before me as the conduit, the holder of the threads.
The stench of sulfur burned my nose, swirling around me. And just that easily, Sitri appeared. Not as a vision in the mirror, but as though emerging from it, confined to the small triangle and yet seemingly huge, a griffin with the body of a leopard and wings. The sound of those wings was terrible somehow, and had haunted my dreams.
“Liiiiiily,” he said. His voice was seductive; merely hearing it was a temptation. “I have miiiiiissed you. . . .”
“You are here at my command, to do my will.” The pendant thrummed as he looked at Aidan and Sailor, both of whom were in trances, lending me whatever psychic strength they could.
“You will look at me, Sitri. I call you by name, I hold you within the triangle. I command you.”
He laughed, trying to look beyond me as though for someone else to enchant. He was a wily, clever one.
The door flung open, and in walked Gene, backed by Clem and Zeke. Zeke seemed fully recovered. The Jones brothers gawked and trembled in the face of the huge demon standing in the center of the room.
Gene, for his part, scoffed loudly.
“What’s this? You’ve got what—a pet demon? He’s got what? A few hundred legions? My master’s got ten times that number, and gaining more all the time. That fire-dancing gig is bringing people in like moths to a flame. I flamed amazement; sometimes I’d divide. And burn in many places.”
A small fire broke out atop the broad walnut desk, but Aidan and Sailor remained in their trances. They trusted me; their lives were in my hands.
“Poor old Lloyd,” said Gene with a smile. “Guess he’s going to prison, eh? Too bad. I liked that guy. Turned out to be quite brutal; no training at all. Just channeled his general bitterness and dissatisfaction with life and boom, a truly violent man was born.”
“So, the promise of the good life stops when someone’s arrested, does it? That hardly seems fair.”
Another small fire began in the corner of one bookcase.
He shrugged, pushing out his chin as though pondering my words. “Truth is, I’ve never understood why people sell out so easily. They do so much and ask for so little in return.”
“How about you? What do you receive for being a demon’s lackey?”
Anger flared, bright and fierce, but passed through him quickly. “I serve my lord with loyalty. I love him. That’s enough.”
The fires blazed hotter.
“Is it enough? Maybe I should be talking with your master, Xolotl.”
“Dare ye not invoke his name!”
I wrapped my hand around the pendant. The hair unwound itself, showing the Ojo del Fuego. I slid the ring onto my finger, then turned the stone to my palm and closed my hand to make a fist.
“Xolotl, I call on thee and command thee to manifest here and now.”
“No!”
“With the strength of my ancestors, I am the power.” I could feel the huge power surge afforded me by Sitri—whether he wanted to or not, he was acting as my assistant on the astral plane. “I call you by name, Xolotl. I know you. I command you. I exorcise you.”
Holding up my fisted hand, pointing the athame at the pentacle point for the element of fire, I barely noticed that Gene had fallen to his knees at the edge of the circle where I was pointing, hands cast to the side, crying out.
Zeke and Clem were both on the floor, cringing and covering their heads as though the building were going to cave in.
It was only then that I realized things were shaking, books were tumbling from shelves, falling papers stoking the fires that were already burning.
And the lights began flickering. Whirling overhead and all around us, the Ojo del Fuego spun a web of light and magic around the room, then shrunk and passed through everyone in the room until it spun around only Gene, like a cocoon.
Despite the strength of my ancestors, the borrowed power from Sailor and Aidan and Oscar, and the astral assistance of Sitri, I could still feel myself losing strength. The pendant was draining me, taking the energy I had built up.
I couldn’t hold it.
The room still shook and the smoke from the fires began to gather, choking us all. Sailor and Aidan came out of their trances.
Suddenly my father showed up at the door.
He was chanting. At first I thought he was going up against me, but as my strain eased, as I regained my psychic footing, I realized he was helping me. His energy was boosting mine.
And fire burst out upon his suit jacket. But he didn’t hesitate or pause in his chanting. Our eyes locked.
I took a deep breath and repeated loudly, “I call you by name, Xolotl. I know you. I command you. I exorcise you. I call you by name, Xolotl. I know you. I command you. I exorcise you!”
And suddenly, all was quiet. Sitri’s terrible flapping wings, the roar of the fires, the whooshing of the lights were silenced. The cocoon of light was extinguished, and Gene lay still on the pentacle, his eyes open and terrified. He was dead.
Aidan rushed over to my father and threw his own coat over the burning jacket, smothering the flames. After a stunned moment, we all seemed to realize at the same time that while Xolotl had been expelled, Aidan’s office was now beginning to blaze out of control. We ran out as fast as we could. Aidan carried Clarinda, Sailor carried Oscar in his pig form, and I had Noctemus wrapped around my neck, her claws gone clear through the cotton of the shirt and sunk into my shoulders, making me sneeze. Zeke and Clem led the way, and my father took up the rear.
A deafening clanging noise indicated the fire alarm had been tripped, and it was clear to see why: Disparate fires had begun all over the building. Worse, they were burning so hot that the sculptures were melting like birthday candles: Juan Ponce de León keeled over, defeated by the heat; Sir Francis Drake and John Cabot followed. The Chamber of Horrors was ablaze, its figures appearing even more gruesome than usual.
Mary Ellen Pleasant’s sculpture, I noticed, was not softening. On the contrary, I could have sworn she was smiling.
But she was the exception. Colored wax puddles started to run together, making the floor slick and hot with the burning. It seared through the canvas of my shoes.
It felt like an eternity before we made it to the floating metal-and-glass stairs, where a small river of wax was already dripping down. We made our way down nightmarishly slowly, hanging on to the railing to keep from slipping. Clem offered to help Aidan with Clarinda, and my father helped Sailor with Oscar.
In the foyer, other than the wax dripping down the stairs, everything was clear. There was no fire here. At my insistence, Aidan and Sailor went down to the still-smoke-and-flame-free basement and managed to haul out the tied-up Lloyd, dumping him outside the front door.
Our group of six, plus two familiars, stumbled out into a miraculously cool, foggy night. It appeared that the heat wave had finally broken.
Chapter 25
What’s worse than being menaced by a demon’s number-one flunky? Being followed around by sullen minions. Luckily, it wasn’t Xolotl’s gang, but a few of Sitri’s legions had decided I was the one in charge for the moment, and trailed me, waiting for orders.
So the first order of business, just as soon as I regained my strength, was to cast another circle, carefully evoke Sitri once again, and cas
t him and all of his legions back to the astral plane. I was plumb worn out lately, though, so I had asked Bronwyn’s coven for a little backup.
A few days after the fire at the Wax Museum I received a postcard from a little town in West Virginia, in which Zeke thanked me, told me his mother was praying for me, and informed me that Clem and his sweetheart had already set a date. The brothers had taken off on the night of the fire without telling me how they’d become beholden to Xolotl. Though I was curious, I supposed some things were better left unsaid. The important thing was that they were freed from Xolotl’s clutches and had returned to their hometown. I noted the return address on the postcard, and decided to send the vintage white embroidered tablecloth I’d gotten at the thrift store as a wedding present. Let bygones be bygones, and all that.
Eric was recovering from a concussion and smoke inhalation, and though he would carry the scars on his chest for the rest of his life, he was already in his typical high spirits. Renna’s condition had been upgraded from serious to stable; she had even accepted my healing salves and brews to speed up the recovery process. Bronwyn and Maya had gone with me to comb through the charred wreckage of their Oakland home, but her large extended Rom family had beat us to it. They would support Renna and Eric through this difficult time and help get them back on their feet.
After a short stint in the psychiatric ward, Johannes finally convinced his doctors he hadn’t intended to kill himself, but he remained hospitalized for the exhaustion and dehydration he suffered from holding the ring. He was hoping to be released in time to accompany Shawnelle to the quinceañera, as he’d promised, before returning to Germany.