by Ким Харрисон
I picked up the wolf statue, feeling the weight and coldness of bone. It wasn't a bad choice for moving the Were curse to. Focus going distant, I remembered Nick's greed, and my eyes went to Jenks's totem. "Hey, uh, has Nick seen this?" I said, indicating the wolf statue.
Jenks sniffed in disgust, leaning to balance his chair on two legs. "I haven't shown it to him, but he's probably pawed through my stuff."
An idea was sifting through my mind, but I refused to feel guilty for not trusting Nick. "Hey, this is a really neat statue," I said, setting down the wolf and picking up the totem. "Matalina is going to love it. I should have gotten one. It'd look great in Mr. Fish's bowl."
Jenks let the chair fall to four legs. "Mr. Fish's bowl?" he said quizzically, and I darted a glance at the motel room door. Jenks's expression went knowing, then angry; he might be interior-decorating challenged, but he was not a stupid man. "You're worried about…"
I made a small noise, not wanting him to say aloud I was worried about Nick stealing the little wolf statue, so clearly the better choice for a demon curse. But they were both made out of bone, so…
"Yeah," Jenks said suddenly, taking the totem from me and setting it in the middle of the table. "I'll pick one up for you the next time I go out."
There had only been the one in the case, but seeing his understanding, I took a slow breath and reached for my recipe. Pencil in hand, I bowed my head over it and tucked a curl behind an ear. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, and you can kiss your ass good-bye.
Thirty
Motions steady, I massaged my stuck index finger for the blood needed to invoke the last inertia-dampening spell. My finger was starting to hurt after all the charms I'd invoked. It wasn't as if I could draw a vial of my blood and dole it out by eyedropper. If the blood didn't come right from the body, the enzymes that quickened the spell would break down and the spell wouldn't invoke. There were a lot of charms on the table, this second pair of inertia-dampening spells being a quick, guilty addition.
The blood wasn't coming, so I painfully squeezed until a beaded drop of red formed. It plopped onto the first half of the charm, then I squeezed again until the next plop hit the second amulet. The blood soaked in with an eerie swiftness, sending the scent of burnt amber to stain the stale motel room air. What I would have given for a window that opened.
Burnt amber, not redwood, proof it was demon magic. God, what was I doing?
I glanced over the quiet, dusky room, the light leaking in around the closed curtains telling me it was nearing noon. Apart from a nap around midnight, I'd been up all morning. Someone had obviously slipped me some Brimstone. Damn roommates, anyway.
Rubbing my thumb and finger together, I smeared the remnants of blood into nothing, then stretched to put the matched, invoked charms with the rest, beside Jenks. He was sitting across from me, his head slumped onto the table while he slept. Doppelganger charm for Peter, doppelganger charm for Nick, regular disguise charm for Jenks. And two sets of inertia-dampening amulets, I thought, gentling the newest in with the rest. After meeting Peter, I was changing the plan. No one knew it but me.
The clatter of the amulets didn't wake Jenks, and I sat back, exhaling long and slow. I was weary from fatigue, but I wasn't done yet. I still had a curse to twist.
Pulling myself upright, I reached for my bag, moving carefully so I wouldn't disturb Jenks. He'd sat watch over me while I slept, forgoing his usual midnight nap, and was exhausted. Rex was purring on his lap under the table, and Jenks's smooth, outstretched hand nearly touched the cup-sized minitank of saltwater containing the sea monkeys he'd bought somewhere along the way. "They're the perfect pets, Rache," he had said, eyes bright with anticipation with what his kids would say, and I hoped we all lived long enough to worry about how we were going to get them home.
I smiled at his youthful face looking roguishly innocent while he slept. He was such an odd mix, young, but a tried-and-true father, provider, protector—and almost at the end of his life.
My throat tightened and I blinked rapidly. I was going to miss him. Jax could never take his place. If there was a charm or spell to lengthen his life, I'd use it and damn the cost. My hand reached to push his hair back from his eyes, then dropped before it touched him. Everyone dies. The living find a way to assuage the loss and go on.
Depressed, I cleared a spot on the table. With the extra sea salt Jenks had gotten with his new pets, I carefully traced three plate-sized circles, interlacing them to make seven distinct spaces formed by three arcs from each circle. I glanced over the dusky room before retrieving the focus from my bag, which had been at my feet all night, safe from Nick.
Jenks was sleeping at the table, Ivy was sleeping in the back room, having returned from her "date" shortly after sunrise, and Nick and Jax were outside making sure the air bag wouldn't engage when Jenks ran the Mack truck into it tonight. And the NOS. Mustn't forget the NOS that Nick had in his nasty truck, which would be rigged to explode on impact. I'd have no better time than now to do this. I'd like to say that I had waited this long so it would be quiet and I'd be undisturbed. The reality was, I was scared. The statue's power came from a demon curse, and it would take a demonic curse to move it. A demon curse. What would my dad say?
"What the hell," I whispered, grimacing. I was going to kill Peter. What was a little demonic-curse imbalance compared to that?
Stomach knotting, I placed the statue into the first circle, stifling a shudder and wiping my fingers free of the slimy feel of the ancient bone. Jenks had watched me do this earlier, so I knew what came next, but unbeknownst to everyone but him, it had been a dry run using the wolf statue. I'd lit the candles but hadn't invoked the curse. The little wolf with its fake curse had been sitting on the table all night, Nick carefully avoiding looking at it.
Another glance at the light leaking around the curtains, and I rose, going to Jenks's things piled carelessly by the TV. I plucked the totem from his belongings, feeling guilty though I had already asked to use it. Nervous, I placed his carved totem with the stylized wolf on top in the second circle. In the third, I placed a lock of my hair, twisted and knotted.
My stomach clenched. How many times had my father told me never to knot my hair even in fun? It was bad. Tying hair into knots made a very strong bond to a person, especially when you knotted your own hair. What happened to the bit of hair I placed in the third circle would happen to me. Conversely, what I said or did would be reflected in the circle. It wasn't a symbol of my will, it was my will. That it was sitting in a circle to twist a curse made me ill.
Though that might be from the Brimstone, I thought, not putting it past Jenks, even though he'd agreed with my decision to stop taking it. At least it had been medicinal grade this time, and I wasn't dealing with the roller-coaster moods.
"Okay," I whispered, hiking my chair closer to the table. I glanced at Jenks, then got my colored candles from my bag, the soft crackle of the matching colored tissue paper they were wrapped in soothing. I had used white candles the first time, picked up by Ivy out "shopping" with Nick, a bitter touch of honesty to the lie our lives had become.
I set them down and wiped my palms on my jeans, nervous. I'd lit candles from my will only once before—mere hours ago, actually—but since my hearth—the pilot light on my kitchen stove—was five hundred miles south of there, I'd have to use my will.
My thoughts drifted to Big Al standing in my kitchen, lecturing me on how to set candles with their place names. He had used a red taper lit from his hearth, and it would probably please him that I'd learned how to light candles with ley line energy. I had Ceri to thank for that, since it was mostly a modified ley line charm she used to heat water. Lighting them from my will wasn't nearly as power-retentive as using hearth fire, but it was close.
"Ley line," I whispered, focus blurring as I reached for the line I'd found halfway across the town. It felt different from the line in my backyard, wilder, and with the steady, slow pulselike change and characteristic
fluidity of water.
The influx of energy poured through me, and I closed my eyes, my trembling foot the only indication of the torrent of energy filling my chi. It took all of a heartbeat, feeling like forever, and when the force balanced, I felt overly full, uncomfortable.
Jaw clenched, I tossed my red frizz out of my eyes and scraped a bit of wax off the bottom of the white candle, holding it to the back of my teeth with my tongue. "In fidem recipere," I said, to fix the candle in the narrow space where the circle holding the totem and the circle holding the knot of my hair bisected. My thumb and first finger pinched the wick, and I slowly separated them, willing a spot of heat to grow between them as I thought the words consimilis calefacio, setting into motion a complex, white ley line charm to heat water.
Okay, so it heated the moisture between my fingers until the wick burst into flame, but it worked. And the wax I'd scraped off on my teeth was the focal object, so I didn't set the kitchen on fire. My attention flicked to the small burn mark on the table. Yeah, I was learning.
I gazed, fascinated, when the wick first glowed, then caught as the wax melted from the virgin wick and the flame took. One down, two to go.
The black candle was next, and after I scratched the white wax off my teeth, I replaced it with a bit of the black candle before I set it in the space connecting the totem and the statue circles. "Traiectio," I breathed, lighting this one as well.
The third candle was gold, to match my aura, and I placed it in the space between the statue and my knot of hair. "Obsignare," I said, lighting the candle with a studied thought.
My pulse increased. This was as far as I'd gone earlier that morning under Jenks's eye. I brought my head up, seeing his breathing shifting the hair about his small nose. God, he had a small nose, and his ears were cute.
Stop it, Rachel, I berated myself. I wanted to finish this before I set the smoke alarm off. I pulled a gray taper from my bag, setting it in the very center of the three circles, where they all bisected. This was the one that scared me. The first candle had been set with protection, the second with the word for transference, and the third with the word that would seal the curse so it couldn't unravel. If the gray candle lit itself at the end, then I had successfully twisted the curse and I was officially an intentional practitioner of the dark arts.
God, please forgive me. It's for a good reason.
In the glow of my three candles, I massaged my finger, forcing out a welling of blood. My bleeding finger scribed a symbol I didn't know the meaning of, then I wiped the remainder on the candle. I felt as if my will left me with that simple drop of blood, smeared on the faded laminate before the gray pillar of wax given meaning from my intent.
Shaking, I pulled my hand out of the three circles. I scooted my chair back and stood so that when the circles formed, I wouldn't accidentally break them by having my legs in the lower halves. I gave a final look at the three lit candles and the one marked with my blood. The table glowed in candlelight, and I wiped my hands on my jeans.
"Rhombus," I whispered, then touched the nearest circle with my finger to close all three.
I jerked when the ever-after flowed out of me and a haze of black aura rose to envelop the candles, totem, statue, and my knot of hair. I'd never set bisecting circles before, and where they existed together, the gold of my aura was clearer, making glittering arcs among the black smut. Though small, the circles were impenetrable by everything but me since I was the one who had set them. But sticking my finger into the circle to influence what was inside would break the circle, and if I had made them large enough for me to fit in, my soul would be in danger of being transferred along with the original curse.
It was my knot of hair that made this possible. It was my bridge inside. The black candle would go out when the power was moved from the statue to the totem; the white candle would go out to protect and prevent any part of me from being sucked into the new artifact along with the old artifact's power that I would be channeling; and the gold candle would go out when the transfer was complete, sealing it so it couldn't unravel by itself.
My body resonated with the power of the unfamiliar line. It wasn't unpleasant at all, and I wished it was. Grimacing, I reached out my will. "Animum recipere."
I held my breath against the rising strength and the taste of ash flowing into me from the focus, overwhelming my sense of self until I was everything it was. My vision blurred and I wavered on my feet. I couldn't see, though my eyes were open.
It sang to me, it lured me, filling me as if twisting my bones and muscles. It would make me everything I wanted, everything that was promised but that I continually denied myself. I felt the wind in my face and the earth under my paws. The sound of the spinning earth filled my ears, and the scintillating scent of time was in my nose. It coursed in a torrent too fast to be realized. It was what made a Were—and it hurt. It hurt my soul that I couldn't be this free.
Hunched, I struggled to keep my breathing even so I wouldn't wake Jenks. I could be everything if I accepted it fully, took it entirely into me. And it made promises, making me long for it. If I'd had any doubt that Nick had done a switch, they were set to rest now.
But I wasn't a Were. I could understand the lure since I had run with as wolf, fought as a wolf, and existed for a short time with the wind bringing me messages. But I wasn't a wolf. I was a witch, and the lure wasn't enough for me to break my circle and take it as mine forever, destroying me in the process.
"Negare," I whispered, shocked when the word came from me. I had meant to say no. I had meant to say no! But it had come out of me in Latin. Damn it, what was happening to me?
Pulse pounding and feeling out of control, I saw the white candle go out. I stiffened as I felt everything in me being poured into the cheap carved bit of bone. I clutched at myself, holding myself together as the demon curse left me, taking with it the ache and lure. The extinguished white candle of protection kept me intact, holding me so that only the curse left, and absolutely nothing more or less went with it.
The black candle went out, and I jerked. Not breathing, I watched the three circles, knowing the transfer was complete and the curse almost set anew. I could feel the energy in the totem, swirling, looking for a lessening of my will so it could pour out and be free. I fixed my eyes on the gold candle, praying.
It went out as the gray candle lit, and I slumped in relief. It was done.
Eyes closing, I reached for the back of the chair. I had done it. For better or worse, I was the first demon magic practitioner this side of the ley lines. Well, there was Ceri, but she couldn't invoke them.
Fingers shaking, I smeared the salt circle to break it. My aura touched it, and the line energy flowed out of the circle and into me. I let go of the line, and my head bowed. I had all of three seconds before reality balanced itself, reaching out to bitch-slap me a good one.
I gritted my teeth so I wouldn't gasp. Stumbling backward, I reached for the wall, hitting the cupboards and sliding to the floor when I didn't find it fast enough. Panic jerked through me. I knew this was going to happen—had been expecting it. I would survive.
I couldn't breathe, and I hung my head and pretended it was all right as the black soaked in, coating me in another layer, molding to my sense of self and changing it. My demon marks throbbed, and I scrunched my eyes shut and listened to my pulse thunder. I accept this, I thought, and the band about my chest loosened. I took a gasping breath that sounded like a sob.
Tears were leaking out, and I realized someone had a hold on my shoulder as I sat with my back against the cupboards. "Jenks?" I burbled. I felt a moment of despair as I decided it didn't hurt as much this time. I was becoming used to it. Damn it, I didn't want this to become easy. It should hurt. It should scare me so badly that I never wanted to do it again.
"You okay?" he said, and I nodded, not looking up from his knees so he crunched before me. He had nice knees. "Are you sure?" he asked again, and I shook my head no.
His breath came and went,
and I didn't move, trying to realign my thinking. I was a demon curse practitioner. I was a dealer in the black arts. I didn't want to be. I didn't want this.
I brought my head up. Relief tricked through me as I saw only concern, not disgust, in his worried face. I pulled my knees to my chest and held them, breathing slowly. His hand was still on my shoulder, and I wiped my eyes. "Thanks," I said, gathering myself to get up. "I think I'm all right now. It hit me hard is all."
His green eyes were narrowed in concern. "The imbalance?"
I stared at him, then decided he must have been listening the night Ceri explained it to me. "Yeah."
He stood and extended a hand to help me rise. "I never felt anything when I got big."
My heart clenched, and I pulled my hand from his warm one after I found my feet. "Maybe you'll get hit with it when I untwist the curse and you get small again," I lied.
Jenks's lips were tight with anger. "You hurt like that when you turned into a wolf too. I told you I'd take the black for becoming big. It's mine."
"I don't know how to give it to you," I said, depressed. "And even if I did, I wouldn't."
"Rachel, that's not fair," he said, his voice rising.
"Just shut up and say thank you," I said, remembering him saying the same thing to me when he agreed to become big so nasty-wasty vampires wouldn't bite me.
"Thank you," he said, knowing exactly what I was saying. We helped each other out. Keeping track of who was saving whom's ass was a waste of time.
Depressed, I shuffled to the table, thinking the circles and extinguished candles—all but the gray one—looked like something you'd see on a teenage witch's dresser. Pulse slowing, I plucked the extinguished candles from where they sat, rolling them up in their white, black, and gold tissue paper before snapping a rubber band around them and dropping them in my bag. That little box with the magnetic chalk would have been a nice place to keep them.
