Rudy hissed. "Rotten peanuts. That’s gonna be tough to draw. Here, hold this."
I tasted plastic as Rudy shoved the penlight into my mouth. He scrounged up a pen from one of the drawers and then stood, squinting at the sigil. He then pointed at the envelope he stood on until I directed the light there. Poking the tip of his tongue out of his mouth, he concentrated on drawing a lopsided circle. With a huff of frustration, he scribbled it out.
Behind us, Ixey's heartbeat rose and the shaman grunted. Rudy scooted over and started again. He got the circle right, then the T-like rod for the snakes to spiral up, but the snakes themselves quickly devolved into squiggles.
"Rudy!" I hissed, my paws kneading at the mat underneath Ixey's chair.
"It doesn't have to be perfect, but it’s gotta be recognizable. Why couldn't you pick somebody like Joseph of Hermes? His symbol's a triangle inside a circle. That would be easy-peasy."
"I bet he gets all the spam mail," I whispered back despite my better judgment.
"Thomas? What are you doing?" The question had been delivered in a flat monotone of total concentration on each sound in the word. Only one person I knew spoke like that. I looked to the left and then the right before I spotted the aura of the gecko directly above me on the ceiling.
"We're sending a letter, Garn," I whispered without looking up. I didn't need my eyes to watch his aura. I could see magic all around me, but I hadn't learned the trick to paying attention to everything at once yet. Rudy made a futile glance around him but I doubted his diurnal eyes saw much of anything beyond the pool of light he stood in.
"You're disturbing Ixey's things," Garn said as Rudy's pen scratched furiously.
"We just didn't want to wake her up Garn. This is urgent business," I said, hoping beyond hope that Garn was a bit sleep-addled. I didn't know the elemental lizard much at all. He'd never been much of a conversationalist.
Ixey groaned. "Garn? What?"
"Got it!" Rudy cheered. "Wait, no! Planters Peanuts!" He crossed out the sigil and started again.
"Rudy!" I hissed.
"Thomas?" Ixey said and then cursed in a language I didn't understand. I turned to face her, accidentally shining the penlight into her eyes and inducing an "Augh!" as she threw up a hand to protect them.
"Hey! Hold the light!" Rudy demanded.
The lights in the room flicked on.
"That works!" Rudy's furious scribbling resumed.
"What are you two doing in my room in the middle of the night?" Ixey demanded. Garn’s aura flared and I braced myself.
"Sending a letter. Didn't mean to wake you," I said in the most innocent tone I could manage.
Ixey winced as if she suffered a sudden pain. Her eyes flicked to Garn and then widened. "No!" She pointed at me and then at Rudy. "No! Whatever you are doing, stop it now!"
"Finished! A masterpiece!" Rudy cried.
Purple flared behind me as the magical fax activated. Ixey's eyes narrowed to slits. "You sent a letter to Lady Cavell, didn't you?"
I groomed my paw. I assume Rudy did the squirrel equivalent behind me, likely head banging and throwing horns. "Maybe," I said.
Ixey slapped her forehead and slowly dragged it down her face. "You are such a child, Thomas. Now everyone in House Morganna will know O'Meara's a cripple."
"So? Maybe this is the first step to her not being a cripple," I said.
"And in the meantime you'll crush whatever dignity she has left. You are a wonderful familiar," She said with enough sarcasm you could butter toast with it. "Now get out." She pointed to the door.
I left with my tail held high and my heart trying to burrow into my intestines.
CHAPTER FOUR
Thomas! What did you do? was the first coherent thought O'Meara had on waking the next morning. Ixey's words had been bouncing around my head all night, stirring up anxiety and guilt into a hairball-producing cocktail. Fortunately, the downstairs toilet didn't clog easily or else I'd have earned the ire of all three women in the house within the span of twelve hours.
Regardless, the events of last night spilled from my mind into hers like a bursting fire hydrant. O'Meara was still for a long moment as she sorted through the thoughts. She didn't say anything until she finished, but the heat of her anger grew with every passing second. She finished and then gave me a look that if she had been channeling the barest iota of power probably would have melted the flesh from my bones. That wasn't your decision to make, Thomas. This is my problem.
Luckily I had been prepping for this conversation all night instead of sleeping. Your injuries are my fault! Therefore, as your familiar, I have the right to explore other options since the Inquisition isn't lifting a finger to help you.
We'd circled around who had been more pigheaded the night she'd been injured again and again. It was an argument I knew the contours of. We'd never agreed, but I knew how to end it. Today O'Meara didn't rise to that bait. I cannot accept favors from a House, Thomas! They'd expect something in return. I'd be in their pocket.
You're not an inquisitor at the moment. You passed your sword to Ixey. You expect that not to get out?
O'Meara's anger collapsed into a wave of sullen despair. Her eyes shifted from mine to the blank TV on the wall as she spoke, "Lady Cavell's price will be too high, Thomas.” She closed the link between us, but fear leaked through anyway.
"Can we make that determination after we hear what it is? Maybe it will make the Inquisition feel guilty and actually respond to your request for a healer. They haven't even sent someone to evaluate you!"
"Lady Cavell probably won't come either." O'Meara rolled over and closed her eyes, ending the conversation.
She was wrong.
A limo pulled up to the driveway at noon sharp and sent the household into a full-blown panic.
"Ixey! Why didn't you tell me we were having company?" Tallow bellowed when we heard the engine pull into the driveway.
"She's here?" Ixey answered, half cry half squeak. She'd spent the entire morning in her room magicing up a ward on her door that appeared to be tuned specifically to cougars and squirrels. The next time I wanted to send a letter I'd have to sneak through the window or tunnel through the attic.
Ixey nearly jumped down the entire flight of stairs and gawped at the state of the living room, which was a scattered mess of baby stuff. It actually looked far better than it had a week ago. Six-month-old humans were containable; six-month-old werewolves were not. With a wave of Ixey’s hand, half a dozen balls of yellow energy were zipping around the living room, grabbing toys and baby items. Too bad the spirits seemed to have no idea where to go. After brief moment of hovering in confusion they started shoving things under the couch with frantic abandon. Tallow, returning from ushering her children upstairs to her bedroom, watched from midway up the stairway, her arms crossed and head shaking. No doubt she was imagining digging all that stuff out after the dignitary left.
Thomas! Help me get in my chair. O'Meara’s thoughts cut my viewing of the magically enhanced cleaning short. I padded into the recovery room to find her struggling to pull herself out of bed. I hopped into her chair and piloted it to the side of her bed. O'Meara gritted her teeth as the room spun around her. My stomach churned as her vertigo overflowed into my own head, and I stumbled out of her chair. O'Meara stood on her own two feet for a precious few seconds but began to wobble, fighting against the dizzying sensation. I stood next to her and arced my back, offering myself as a handhold.
Is today the day? I thought at her encouragingly. She'd walked to the door last week, and then promptly vomited.
With a defeated sigh, she flung herself into the waiting chair. Not today. I don't want to greet your guest stinking of vomit. The vertigo subsided the instant her legs no longer bore her weight. She'd been making great progress from being nearly paralyzed when she first came out of her coma but had plateaued recently with this vertigo proving resistant to any healing energy Ixey could find.
I nosed under O'Meara's hand an
d enjoyed a few pets as we listened to Ixey plead with Tallow to help her move some of the furniture around.
I'm not happy with you today, Thomas, O'Meara thought at me even as she scratched my ears hard enough that I couldn't help myself from leaning into the sensation. Feels like you've shoved me into a carrier and whisked me off to the vet.
Guilt burbled in my stomach as the doorbell rang, my entire body flinching at the sudden chime. We both folded our misgivings away. Showtime.
***
Lady Cavell looked like she'd walked off the stage of a country western show and through our front door. She had a finely sculpted body clad in skin-clinging jeans and a denim jacket with dangling fringe along the sleeves. Her hair spilled down her back in blond waves, while her ice-blue eyes scanned the room from a face that probably would be carded as long as the bartender remembered to look at her face instead of her chest. So blinded by this unmagi-y looking magi that I didn't even see the rattlesnake draped over her shoulders until he stuck out his forked tongue to sniff the air.
Well that’s a new face for her, O'Meara commented.
Ixey blinked and gave the senior magus a half bow. "Welcome, Lady Cavell and Humphrey to the O'Meara Household. We are pleased that you answered our invitation so promptly."
Lady Cavell smirked. "Yes and I'm sure it was sent with your blessing and approval." Her eyes lingered on the sword slung behind Ixey's back. "Inquisitor. Interesting."
"Won't you come in?" Ixey smiled widely, showing the white of her teeth as she moved out of the way.
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Magi were worse than cats when it came to posturing.
Lady Cavell's high-heeled cowboy boots clomped as she walked across the beaten hardwood floor to where O'Meara and I waited. She looked down at O'Meara and shook her head. "You should have called on me sooner. How long have you been in that chair waiting for the Inquisition to send a medic?" Her voice flowed like a mother talking to a child.
O'Meara's anger bubbled, but she kept a straight face. "Won't you sit down, Cavell? Tea will be a moment." She gestured at the couch across from us.
"Coffee, if it’s not too much trouble." Lady Cavell flung herself into the couch. It squeaked. After moment of surprise, she dug out a squeaky bone from between the cushions. Humphrey flicked his tongue at it with interest before Tallow plucked it out of her hand and deposited a tray with two steaming cups on the table in a single motion.
"Coffee's going to take a bit of time. Tea's ready now," Tallow said, already walking away. Cavell's eyes followed her all the way back to the kitchen.
"It was good of you to respond to Thomas' message so quickly," O’Meara said. "I know House Morganna's troubles keep you busy."
"House Morganna's troubles have so far not resulted in actual injuries, so I've actually had plenty of time on my hands. I let the Crones handle the politics. And the letter was charming. The penmanship was almost as bad as Humphrey's." The rattler looked annoyed for a moment, but she mollified him with a scratch to his head. Her eyes went to my paws. "And this is the talk of the town then? Thomas the cougar? You refused to join the TAU?"
"That's me," I admitted. This was the first time I'd heard someone mention the Talking Animal Union in several months. I'd figured Oric had written me off as a lost cause. "I preferred finding my own bond."
The snake's eyes narrowed, and I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. "And your own unique way of bonding," He said.
I circled around the back of O'Meara's chair, trying to shake his gaze. "Hey, stop with the deep scry. Not on a first date." The less folks knew about Mr. Bitey, the multidimensional snake anchored at base of my neck, the better.
There were reasons besides the state of my tass stores why I hadn't reached out to Cavell earlier, O'Meara chided. I could see pile of reason inside her head. Some of them good, some of them mere excuses.
The snake's eyes remained narrowed, and I could feel him probing. "We came because you mentioned that Archmagi Archibald had a direct hand in your awakening," Humphrey said. "Even left you a fey chain to avoid the TAU."
O'Meara stiffened in surprise and a bit of fear. "Archibald is dead. Thomas awakened due to his death shock." Is that what they're after. Confirmation that Archibald's really gone?
I couldn't help but think of the faint outline I'd seen after the dragon had left.
O'Meara stomped on that image with a mental army boot. Thought you saw. It was the end of a long day and nobody was in their right mind.
"He's dead. Definitely." O'Meara stared at the young-looking magus.
"You're sure?" Lady Cavell asked with the hint of a drawl. "The man is known for centuries of scheming."
"Archibald was over three hundred years old and his mind had begun to fail. He had gotten sloppy and it allowed Sabrina to murder him in hope of taking his position on the council," O'Meara said.
Humphrey's tongue flicked out and in. "And you sustained your injuries defending Archibald?"
O'Meara guffawed. "HA! No!" She coughed. "Sabrina attempted to resist her incarceration for Archibald's murder."
"If she rid the world of that crazy bat, she should have been applauded!" Lady Cavell sniffed. "The man attempted to destroy the Veil and they didn't even fully strip away his council seat!"
O’Meara straightened. "And had Sabrina not attempted to kill me, she'd be able to make that case."
Lady Cavell smirked. "So she is dead. Not missing like the reports say."
One of O'Meara hands had drifted to the back of my neck. It tightened at that moment. "You are very well informed. I have no body and there was no death shock. So she is officially missing."
"So you fought. The same night the two Archmagi disappeared? No one recorded their death shocks either."
I cut in. "I fail to see how this is all relevant to you helping O'Meara with her injuries. Which I hope is the real reason you came."
"In good time, Thomas. No one here is bleeding out. I want to make sure I don't wind up tangled in an Archmagus' scheme. I will not find myself entangled in another coup attempt by the fool of a man." Cavell spoke with the venom that I'm sure Humphrey possessed. I had to wonder if she hated Archibald so much, why did she live less than three hours away?
"Archibald is dead,” O'Meara said. "Ixey and Garn will vouch for that under the oaths. I did not have a familiar at the time."
"Did you have a familiar at the time you battled Sabrina?"
"No," O'Meara said. "We bonded shortly after." She patted my neck.
The pair blinked as one. Cavell furrowed her brows. "Now I am curious. I'll see what I can do for you. I'll need a circle."
O'Meara nodded. "We'll need to go down to the basement then. Tallow, if you could..."
CHAPTER FIVE
Set into the concrete floor, a circle of silver shone under the light cast by a single bulb hanging from the ceiling. This was the house's third circle.
Cavell eyed the bulb with suspicion. "Well this won't do." She closed her eyes for a moment, Humphrey's rattle flicked to the tip of his nose and I watched as a tiny spell wove between them. With a flick of her finger, the spell spread through the room, and the basement lit up. The light came from everywhere yet nowhere at once. Nobody had the faintest of shadows. "Much better."
Their bond isn't as deep as ours if Humphrey needs to circle his body like that, O'Meara observed with smug pride. She was still being carried down the stairs by Tallow in a folding chair.
I gave her a mental hug and asked the senior magus where O'Meara needed to be.
"Place her in the center please."
Tallow did so and quickly retreated to a corner, as if invisible.
"Good. This might take some time." She stood on the edge of the circle, eyes on O'Meara, and went still. For several minutes the only movement on her person was Humphrey's tongue flicking in and out of his mouth. Slowly, Humphrey slid down from his perch and began to circle around O'Meara. He moved oddly, always keeping his eyes on O'Meara, who watched him until he
circled beyond the range of her neck’s ability to turn. I felt prickles along the edge of my mind as our link itself coiled. Usually the link felt like little more than a gateway, but certain situations made me aware of it. Like swallowing cold water on an empty stomach, the length of the link betrayed itself as it moved to avoid the gaze.
"That's not where the problem is," I said.
"But it is an answer to why she is not dead." Humphrey's gaze did not waver as he extended his head as high into the air as he could manage.
"Yes," I acknowledged. "We had to share space for a bit."
"The bond is wider than most who've shared a link for centuries."
"Our link is not the problem," O'Meara said.
"No. It is not. I see scars of extensive power burns all along your thread. Your body is recovering, but your thread- your soul is infected. Can you channel at all?"
"Yes, but it knocks me out." O'Meara gave a deep sigh.
The snake nodded. "Every time you do you bust the soul equivalent to scar tissue wide open, and then the infection rushes into both your minds. Not healthy at all. We suggest you stop channeling or the thread itself risks snapping."
A bolt of shock passed through us both and we quickly buried it. "We're hoping you can do a bit more than tell us that. Ixey figured that much out," I said. Though Ixey hadn't mentioned the danger of the O’Meara’s soul actually snapping.
The snake reared back. "There are more advanced interventions. The walls of the thread were burned but still function. O’Meara can think and dream. We can weave a web to support the thread and insert reinforcements in particular weak points. It would restore your capacity to eighty percent in a few weeks."
"Great! Let’s do that," I said.
The snake rounded at me. His eyes narrowed. "It is not a simple procedure. We could not attempt it without compensation for both the resources and time."
"How much?" I looked the snake in the eyes.
He cocked his head and appeared to give the matter thought. "One hundred groat."
I winced. I'd hoped medical expenses were cheaper on this side of the Veil. No dice on that front. One groat was the amount of tass due to a low ranking magus in a single month. For a working class magus, that was about nine years of wages. And I didn't have much to haggle with.
Marking Territory (Freelance Familiars Book 2) Page 3
