by M. J. Scott
Damon dipped his head and she fastened the leather around his neck. It suited him somehow. But judging by the speed with which he unbuttoned his collar and hid the thing out of sight beneath his shirt, he didn't agree.
"Next to the skin, very good. Keep it there and you should be fine." Cassandra held out a datapad. "Here, transfer my contact details to your system. If you notice anything strange or out of place—anything at all—call me. Any time."
"Thank you," Damon said politely. He didn't meet my eyes as she handed him a bag with all the supplies she'd gathered. "How do I know there won't be another of those things waiting for me at the office?"
"I can shield you a bit," Cassandra said. "And the demon's lost two imps in two days. I'm hoping it's not going to have much energy to spare for anyone but Maggie."
Lucky me. But it seemed to satisfy Damon.
"I'll see you later?" I asked.
His response was a noncommittal grunt.
"You'd better use the rear exit," Cassandra said diplomatically. "You don't want to track through imp ash. It stains." She ushered Damon out back.
Stained? Did she fry imps regularly? I didn't think the opportunity would come up that often. According to what she'd told me, not many witches would risk summoning one.
I rubbed my arm where I'd scorched myself as I stared at the pile of ash. Cassandra was right—I needed to learn what I could do, if only so I could avoid ever having to do any of it.
Cassandra returned before I had too much time to brood.
"He's quiet," she said with an inquisitive tilt to her head.
It was tempting to unload on her, but unloading might just make my fears about him come true. I gestured at the ash. "This is a lot to deal with."
She let it go. "How are you dealing with it?"
Right now I wanted a drink. Or a vat of chocolate. And possibly to be knocked unconscious so I didn't have to deal with even one more thing. But short of letting the next imp catch me, none of those seemed likely options. "I've had better days."
"Haven't we all." She frowned in the direction of the door. "Right, let's get this mess cleaned up."
"What about my lesson?"
"We can do both at once. There are a couple of buckets and rubber gloves upstairs under the sink in the kitchen."
I went to fetch them. By the time I came back downstairs, Cassandra had a vial of oil, a pile of herbs, and a sack of salt on the counter.
"Wouldn't Lysol be easier?" I asked as we both pulled on purple gloves.
She smiled. "Probably. But that would only take care of the physical side. And that's the easy part."
"What's the hard part?" It seemed the obvious question.
"Clearing up the energy signature so nothing else can home in on it."
I wished I hadn't asked.
Cassandra ground the oil, herbs, and salt together in a big stone dish until the whole room smelled like clary sage and rosemary and lavender and other things I didn't recognize, then dumped half into each bucket before filling them with hot water.
"How does this work exactly?"
"Remember what I told you about energy?"
"Every person or thing has an energy field," I said slowly. "Witches have the ability to manipulate those fields."
"Close enough for now," Cassandra replied, lifting a bucket.
"If witches can manipulate energy fields, why do you need all the herbs and things?"
"We don't is the short answer. You used your own energy to burn that imp last night, didn't you?"
"Then why?" I picked up the other bucket and followed her to the door.
"Firstly, all the things we use have energy of their own, which can help with the working. Secondly, going through a ritual of preparation helps you focus your intent. Thirdly, depending on what you're doing, the herbs and crystals have other properties besides energy that can help." She flexed her fingers in the gloves. "And lastly, any doctor will tell you that the placebo effect is real. Making someone take a tonic or wear a talisman helps belief, which in turn helps the working influence the energy field."
I fingered my pendant. "So this is really just a magic sugar pill?"
"Not entirely. The energy of the crystals helps shield your own. How well it does, well, that depends on your belief." She paused, one hand on the door handle. "Do you believe, Maggie?"
"In magic?" I nodded at the pile of ash. "It's kind of hard to argue with that."
"Good. Then maybe we’ll get somewhere. Now help me clean this up. We’ll put it in this." She indicated the bucket nearest her foot.
I knelt, the sun beating down on my back as I eyed the ash warily. Imp ash. Still faintly warm. Ash caused by a fire lit by magic. I couldn't help feeling like maybe I was asleep and having a particularly weird nightmare. But around me, hover whine and sirens and the background hum of lots and lots of people—all the familiar sounds of the city—told me I was awake. The breeze blew hair into my face and the stink of the ash grew stronger.
Not a dream. Reality. I had to deal. So I leaned forward and scooped ash. "Tell me about imps," I said as I lifted the first handful. I'd expected it to be hot, but it was already cool enough to touch. "Do you think this one was trying to do the same thing as the other?"
Cassandra scooped ash herself. It smelled disgusting, cutting through the oils, and had a weird, slightly greasy texture rather than being light and crumbly like wood ash. The water in the bucket bubbled briefly with each scoop. "I think it's fairly clear they're after you. And yes, I say they're still trying to do something that would let the demon possess you or bind you again."
"A spell to lower my will, right? Is that the only way it can possess someone?"
"No. Certain people are susceptible, those whose natural psychic barriers are low. And resistance is sometimes weakened if you're depressed or sick. Mentally ill. Demons prey on the weak."
"But they can't get to you if you're strong?"
"The stronger the demon, the more powerful its influence. A weaker demon would need the imp to touch you to establish a link if you were susceptible. A stronger one can do it without a physical connection if there’s weakness to exploit."
Like being bound to one? I took a deep breath, suddenly dizzy. Bad idea. The imp stink made my stomach churn.
Cassandra put a gloved hand on mine. "You're a witch. Your barriers are strong. It's not going to sneak up on you that way. It wouldn't be wasting energy on sending imps if it could."
I nodded slowly, wanting to believe her. But my spine prickled as I wondered if the demon was already watching me, planning another attempt.
One step at a time, Maggie. Scoop, dump, fizz, repeat. If I concentrated on just that, I could get through the next few minutes.
When Cassandra was happy that we'd gathered as much ash as we could, she put her hand over the bucket and I got the weird tingly feeling again as she closed her eyes.
"Good," she said after a few moments. She pointed at the other bucket. "Pour that one over the mark."
The hypercrete was scorched and blackened where we'd cleared the ash. I poured the water and oil over the marks gingerly. Again there was a hissing, bubbling mess but, to my disappointment, once the foaming subsided, the black smears were still there.
"Can't do much about the appearance. I told you it stains." Cassandra crouched and held her hands out again. "But at least it's done the trick."
"Is it even worth me asking what you just did?"
She stripped off her gloves and put them in the empty bucket. "Bring that along with you and I'll try to explain. Though it might be just easier to start with the basics."
The basics, it seemed, after we had emptied and cleaned both buckets with more herbs and hot water and then thrown them and the gloves into the recycler, involved still more herbal tea.
"You know, I'd really prefer syncaf," I said hopefully.
"You're already running on adrenaline. You don't need to strain your energy field any more with caffeine. You may, however, have a co
okie. Low blood sugar is bad." She held out a plate of oatmeal raisin.
I really wanted the caffeine, but I took the cookie anyway. Once I took a bite, I realized I was actually starving. Three more cookies disappeared in quick succession. The sugar wiped out the taste of the tea as well.
Bonus.
I eyed the cookie plate, wondering if I could manage a fifth. Without Nat to yell at me about eating white flour and fat, I could eat guilt free. Except that thought brought back the fact that Nat was missing with a vengeance. Along with all the stress and worry I'd managed to forget for a little while.
I straightened in the overstuffed armchair. "Okay, let's do this. How do we start?"
Cassandra finished her cookie. "Every witch has to learn how to perceive the energy fields."
That seemed about as useful as being told I had to learn how to fly when I had no wings. "How, exactly?"
"Everyone is different. Some people feel the energy, some can see it. I know one witch who seems to hear it. She says everyone has their own song."
Great, more variables. Magic had far too many buts and maybes. I wanted some nice clean logic. Rules. I could deal with those. In fact, I kicked butt at rules and logic. There was a reason I dealt with code, after all. So far where magic was concerned, I was the one getting my butt kicked.
"How do I know which will work for me?"
"Ever seen an aura?"
"No." Not unless seeing stars after banging my head against a cabinet door once counted.
"Then sight probably isn't the strongest way for you. Which is a pity, because it's the most useful. Most healers see the fields."
I had less than zero desire to be a healer. Spend all my time in hospitals? No thanks. Unless I could voodoo sick computers into behaving. Which I doubted.
"Can you sense it more than one way?"
Cassandra smiled. "Yes. I can see the energy fields and feel them."
"What do they feel like?"
"That's something else that varies. A breeze, a sensation of warmth, pins and needles."
Pins and needles. Bingo. "I felt something like that when you were trying to find Nat."
"Really? That's good. We'll start there, then. Hold out your hand, palm up."
When I did, she held hers, palm down, above mine, about an inch apart. "Now close your eyes and tell me if you can feel anything."
I concentrated hard. Nothing.
"Relax," Cassandra said softly. "Breathe deeply. Picture energy flowing through and around your body. And through and around mine."
I was glad my eyes were closed so she couldn't see the eye roll. It all sounded like the sort of airy-fairy bullshit the instructors at the ultra-zen yoga classes Nat dragged me to droned on about.
But this was real. I'd set fire to an imp using something other than matches and lighter fluid, and I'd seen Cassandra do it too. Plus she'd helped my arm heal overnight. So there had to be something there to feel.
I focused on slowing my heartbeat, trying to do as Cassandra had asked and think about energy. My mind came up with an image of little sequences of ones and zeros zipping between chips. Not quite the metaphor I was hoping for. I wasn't a computer, after all . . . but maybe it wasn't so silly. Energy had to be a type of information flow. Nerves used electricity to communicate, didn't they? So this energy field had to be data of some sort.
Maybe it would be like using the chip to plug into a code. The same sense of standing in the middle of a swirl of information flowing around and through me.
To my surprise, as soon as the thought crossed my mind, I could see it in my head, a cool blue light flowing around me, little dots and swirls of darker blue floating in the light. A warm sensation moved across my palm, tingling. Better still, another sort of sensation—one that felt greener somehow—floated about an inch above the warmth.
"I think I feel it," I said, voice full of wonder.
The sense of green warmed a little, like it was . . . happy, maybe.
"Let's see," Cassandra said. "I'm going to move my hand. Keep your eyes closed and move yours to stay the same distance apart from mine.”
"Okay." I focused on my hand and the sensations, trying to see in my head where blue faded out and green began.
"Think about the connection," Cassandra continued. "Feel where the fields intersect. Try and keep that feeling—keep the same distance."
As she spoke, the sensation changed, the feel of her hand becoming more distant. Feeling like an idiot, I lifted my hand, only to smack hard into hers.
Cassandra laughed. "Slowly. The idea is to maintain the gap. Let's try again."
We played the game for a few minutes, me trying to follow her hand by feel alone and half the time only managing another collision. After about the tenth attempt, I was starting—maybe—to get the hang of it. I had a vague sensation of something more than just Cassandra's hand above mine, a sort of shape of where she was in my head. I was also out of breath from the effort.
"That's enough," Cassandra said abruptly. "Open your eyes."
For a moment, everything was dazzling. I squinted as the room returned to normal. Except for Cassandra. She seemed to glow faintly, the light the warm green of ancient computer text.
"You're glowing," I said stupidly.
"So are you."
I looked at my arm and almost gasped. There was a faint glow of blue flowing across my skin.
"Seems like you can see and feel too," Cassandra said with a smile.
"How do I turn it off?" I didn't want to walk around gaping at glowing people.
"It will probably fade once you start doing something else. You have to focus at first. Once you get better control, you can sort of choose to filter it out."
"How long is getting control going to take?"
"We'll see. But that's enough for now. You're tired." She watched me for a moment. "Though your field looks better now. Keep practicing your breathing and visualizing the energy flowing around you, see if you can make it wider and brighter. And try not to set anything on fire between now and tomorrow morning. I'll send you some texts to read."
I watched the blue glow surrounding my hand and got the not-quite-real feeling again. "What's happening tomorrow morning?"
"Your next lesson."
Chapter Fifteen
I left Cassandra's exhausted and starving again despite the cookie binge. A quick glance at my data pad established it was close to three. Apparently cookies didn't count as a proper lunch when you were doing magic. Not that I knew whether what we'd just done counted as magic.
The energy field thing was kind of cool, but I wasn't sure I wanted to do actual magic.
Learning enough to protect myself made sense. But that was it. Magic had never brought anything but trouble and darkness to my life.
What I actually wanted was to find Nat. There were no messages on my datapad, so I didn't hold out much hope that Damon's people had found her. But I had to check in anyway.
I dialed Damon and headed down the street, looking for a cab. The few people I passed didn't glow, which was a relief—hard to ignore glowing people when you're trying to pretend everything is normal.
"It's me," I said when Damon answered. "Any luck with Nat?"
"No. There was no sign of her at any of the clubs."
My heart sank. "Are you still at work? I'll come in."
"Actually I'm home."
I waited for an invitation to come over. Silence. Which made my stomach twist in a not so good way. "Can I come over?"
"Yes, you probably should."
Hardly an enthusiastic invitation. "Okay. I'll swing by the apartment first, in case Nat's gone home."
"See you when you get here."
He cut the call before I could say anything else. Damn. I didn't want to admit it, not after such a short time of knowing him, but wondering if I was about to get the “it's just not going to work” speech hurt.
A lot.
My stomach was telling me that maybe dinner might be in order despite
my late lunch by the time I'd made it to the apartment—still no sign of Nat—and back across town to Damon's house. I'd half expected his house comp not to let me in, but the door swung open after the scan flashed over me and the system announced that Damon was in his office. It took some time to find my way through the house, and by the time I reached the office, there was no sign of him. The bedroom was the only other room I was familiar with, so I headed there.
Bingo.
Damon stood by the window, staring down at the garden in the twilight. He was barefoot and wearing old faded jeans and a plain gray T-shirt. The shirt he'd worn to Cassandra's was balled up on the chaise beside him.
"Hi," I said softly from the door.
He turned, backlit by a golden halo of light from the setting sun. I couldn't see his expression.
"Hi, yourself," he said neutrally.
I came into the room, took a seat on the bed. Mistake. The urge to just lie back and fall asleep hit hard as my butt sank into the softness. But I forced myself to remain upright, not sure of my welcome.
"Nat wasn't there." No sign of her. No messages from her or any of our friends. I'd have to call her parents soon. I'd almost rather face another imp.
Damon didn't respond. I didn't think I could do any more awkward silence.
"How was your afternoon?" It sounded weirdly formal to my ears.
"Unproductive." His voice was overly polite.
I patted the bed. "Why don't you come over here?"
He stayed right where he was.
I bit my lip. "O-kay then. Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" I held up a hand to block the glare, squinting to try to see his face.
"No."
Okay. So the anger hadn't really gone away. I understood that, kind of. I'd lied to him, after all. But I was trying to make up for it. "Want to come over here and shag me senseless?"
"No."
I stood. "I guess I'm out of luck, then. I should go."
"Don't," he said reluctantly.
I held up my hands, palms out. "Then talk or tango, because I don't want to play guessing games. I already have enough puzzles to deal with."
"You're a witch. Can't you tell what's on my mind?"
