White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7)

White Witch, Black Curse (The Hollows #7) Page 16

The kitchen was warm, smelling of brown sugar, chocolate chips, and butter. I was making cookies with the excuse that they would soften Al up, but the reality was, I wanted Jenks to have the chance to get excessively warm. The ride home had been bitterly cold, and though he'd never admit it, Jenks was almost blue by the time Ivy parked her cycle in the garden shed and I hustled into the church with him. His kids had long since tired of playing in the oven's updrafts, but he was still in here, his wings slowly moving back and forth.

As expected, a stone-faced I.S. agent had been waiting for us when we cycled in, silently taking his copy of the AMA and driving off. If not for that stupid piece of paper, I'd be back in the hospital under guard, but as it was, I was pulling the last tray of cookies out and feeling better. Tired, but better. Take that, Dr. Mape.

It was almost four in the morning, just about the time I usually crawled into bed. Ivy was at her computer, each key getting a harder tap than the one before it as she not so patiently waited for me to call Al and ask for the night off, but talking to demons was tricky. I wanted Jenks warm and mobile before I did it. And a little comfort food never did anyone any harm.

"It's getting late," Ivy muttered, the rim of brown around her pupils narrowing as she tracked something on her monitor. "You going to do this anytime soon?"

"I've got hours," I said as I slid the last cookie onto the cooling rack. Propping the tray in the sink to sizzle, I leaned to look at the clock above me. "Relax."

"You've got four hours, sixteen minutes." Her eyes flicked to me, and she arranged her colored pens in the mug she used for a pencil cup. "I just pulled up the almanac."

Putting five cookies on a plate, I set them next to her keyboard and took the topmost for myself. "I wanted to make cookies. Everyone likes cookies," I said, and she smirked, delicately taking a cookie with her long, slim fingers.

Jenks rose up from the oven, warm at last. "Oh yeah. Cookies ought to do it." He laughed, and a slip of dust fell from him. "Al had a fit the last time you asked for a night off. He said no, too."

"That's why the cookies. Duh. I wasn't recovering from a banshee attack either. Tonight will be different." I hope.

Hands on his hips, Jenks got an unusually bitter look on his face as he landed by my scrying mirror on the center island counter. "Maybe you should offer him a bite out of something else? Bet he'd give you the freaking year off."

"Jenks!" Ivy snapped, and the pixy turned his back on us to look out the dark window.

"What's the matter, Jenks?" I said tightly. "You don't want me talking to the wise demon? Didn't I hear you tell Rynn Cormel he was a wise demon?" Okay, maybe that had been a little nasty, but he had been picking on me all night, and I wanted to know why.

He stayed where he was, his wings moving fitfully, and tired of it, I sat in my spot at the table and leaned toward Ivy. "What's with him?" I said, loud enough for him to hear. Ivy shrugged, and I wiped the cookie crumbs from my fingers. Rex was staring at me from the threshold, and on the off chance, I dropped my hand in invitation.

"Oh my God!" I whispered when the cat stood and, her tail crooked happily, came to me. "Look!" I said as the orange beast bumped her head under my palm as if we were great friends. Ivy leaned over to see, and feeling brave, I sent my hand under the cat's middle. Not breathing, I lifted, and without even a squirm, the cat was on my lap.

"Oh my God!" I whispered again. She was purring. The freaking feline was purring.

"It's the bloody apocalypse," Jenks muttered, and I fondled the young cat's ears. My wonder turned to contentment when Rex settled in with her paws tucked under herself. Ivy shook her head and went back to work. No way was I ruining this with calling Al. Al could wait. I was guessing that Pierce was in the kitchen, and he was happy.

Rex still on my lap, I ate another cookie as thoughts of Pierce sifted through me. It had been eight years, and though I'd changed-moved out, gone to school, been hired, fired, run for my life, saved a life, put my boyfriend to rest and learned to live again-he probably hadn't changed at all. The last time I'd seen him, he had been an attractive mix of power and helplessness, not any older than I was now.

I felt a smile grow as I recalled him busting the doors to the I.S. building with a flung spell, knocking out their security, and then sealing them inside with a ward. All with an odd awkwardness that hit my little-boy-lost button. He'd taken down an undead vampire with power he had drawn through me so subtly that I hadn't felt it, even when I'd known he was doing it.

Rex purred, and I kept my fingers moving to keep her with me. I was not stupid. I knew that Pierce, even as a ghost, had a mix of power and vulnerability that was a veritable Rachel magnet. And I wasn't so blind that I wouldn't admit I felt a twinge of attraction. But an unexpected sense of peace outweighed that. I wasn't going to run willy-nilly into a relationship, even if one was possible. Kisten had taught me the dangers of letting my heart rule me. Call it gun shy, call it growing up, but I was happy as I was. I was in no hurry. And that felt good.

Ivy looked up at me, her typing stilling as she recognized that something had shifted in the air. Face placid, she glanced at Jenks. The pixy's wings went red in agitation, and he flew to land on the cookie plate and demand my attention. "Marshal called," he said, as if it was the most important thing in the world. "You were in the can. He says he's bringing doughnuts over tomorrow for breakfast if you get out of your thing with Big Al."

"Okay," I said as I scratched Rex's jawline, remembering that Pierce hadn't been my first kiss. He'd been my first done-right kiss, though, and I smiled.

"Trent's coming with him," Jenks said, hands on his hips, "and Jonathan."

"That's nice." I stroked Rex, then brought her to my nose so I could smell her sweet kitty fur. "Such a good kitty," I crooned. "Such a clever kitty to know there is a ghost in the church."

Jenks set his wings to blurring, not moving an inch. "See?" he said to Ivy, appalled. "She likes him. Rachel, he's been spying on us! Start thinking with your head, huh?"

A flicker of annoyance went through me, but it was Ivy who said, "Jenks, get off it," in an almost bored tone. "He's not spying on us."

"But she likes him!" Jenks yelped, wings so fast that the bit of red tape finally flew off.

Ivy sighed, looking up first at Jenks, then at me. "This is Rachel we're talking about," she said with a smile. "I'd give it three months, tops."

"Yeah, but she can't kill this one," Jenks grumped.

That was in extremely bad taste, but I ignored him, just delighted to have the cat finally like me. "Don't you listen to them, Rexy," I cooed, and the cat sniffed my nose. "Rachel is a smart girl. She's not going to go out with a ghost no matter how sexy he is. She knows better. Jenkskie wenskie can just get bent." I beamed at Jenks, and he made an ugly face.

"Rache, put my cat down before you mess with her kitty brain."

Smiling, I let Rex puddle out of my arms and onto the floor. She rubbed against me, then sedately walked out. There was a cheering from the pixies up in the sanctuary, and her shadow slunk past the door to hide under the couch in the back living room.

The more agitated Jenks got, the more content I became. Smiling, I washed my hands and dropped a dozen cookies in a bag for Al, tying it with a little blue twist tie before setting them beside the scrying mirror. Seeing me getting ready, Ivy shut down her computer. "I'll get our coats," she said, and Jenks clattered his wings, angry he was going to be left behind.

"I'm doing this by myself," I said suddenly. "Thanks, though."

"Your aura is thin. Put us in a circle and do it here," Ivy said as she stood.

Putting them in a circle really didn't make them any safer. All Al had to do was shove me into it and it would fall. Same thing with standing in a circle with him. And putting Al in a circle alone wasn't going to happen-not since he'd started treating me like a person after I told him I wouldn't circle him anymore. Second-class person, but a person nevertheless.

"Why chance it?" I said, thinking of Jenks's kids. The demon might turn them into popcorn for all I knew. "You can watch from the windows." Coat...in the foyer. "It's not a big deal!" I shouted over my shoulder as I headed for the front door. My boots were there, too. It was four in the freaking morning, the coldest part of the day, and I was going to go sit in a graveyard and talk to Al. Ah-h-h, I love my life.

Ivy caught up with me as I shrugged into my coat. Grabbing my boots, I took a step, jerking back when I almost ran into her. "I'm coming with you," she said, eyes going dark.

I listened for Jenks's wings, and hearing nothing, I whispered, "Don't you dare make Jenks sit in here alone." She clenched her jaw, the brown rim of her eyes shrinking even more. I brushed past her and headed to the kitchen. "I'm just asking for a night off. It's not a big deal!"

"Then why don't you do it in here?" she yelled back, and I stopped at the head of the hall.

Ivy was standing by her piano. The soft glow lights on my desk made a spot of living green with pixies peeking from every nook. "Because I lost it the last time I thought you two were dead, and I'm not going to risk you if I don't have to." Ivy took a deep breath, and I turned away. "I'll be right back," I added as I paced into the kitchen.

Jenks was still atop Ivy's monitor, his wings a blur and his increased circulation making them a bright red. "Jenks, don't look at me like that," I muttered when I dropped my boots to put them on, and as my heels thumped into them, he turned his back on me. "Jenks...," I pleaded, stopping when his wings buzzed. "I'll be okay," I said, and he shifted his head at the harsh sound of my zipper going up.

"This is fairy crap!" he exclaimed, rising up and spinning around. "Green fairy crap-"

"With sprinkles on top," I finished for him as I fumbled for my gloves, jammed in the pockets. "We go through this every week. Either I show up at sunrise or he comes and gets me. Hiding on hallowed ground will only tick him off and then he visits my mom. If I'm lucky, I get the night off. If I'm not, I'll send Bis back in for my things. Okay?"

Jenks hovered before me with his hands on his hips. Ignoring him, I picked up the scrying mirror and my cookies. I knew he hated being trapped by the cold, but I wasn't going to risk his family. He was so good at everything else, why this bothered him was beyond me.

"Bis will be with me," I offered, and when he crossed his arms and turned his back on me, I shouted, "I'll be freaking fine!" and stormed to the back door. What is his problem!

I flicked on the porch light, giving the door a tight pull to get it to latch behind me. Hesitating on the landing, I took a moment to calm myself, taking in how quiet it was out here while I put on my gloves. The moon was riding high above the horizon with an edge so sharp it looked like it could cut paper. My breath steamed, and by the second lungful, I felt the cold all the way to my bones. Even Cincinnati, across the river and distant, seemed frozen. If death had a feeling, this was it.

Still peeved, I crunched down the salted back steps and into the garden, following the same path I'd taken out here last week. There was a good chance that Al wouldn't go for this and I'd find myself sending Bis back in for my overnight bag, giving Al a laugh and me ten additional charms to spell before sunrise tomorrow.

I looked behind me to see the kitchen window plastered with pixies, but Jenks wasn't among them. Guilt slithered out from me for having gone where he couldn't follow, but it wasn't like I was going into a dangerous situation. It was like asking your recruiter if you could skip the run today and rest up. I might get smacked for it, but I wasn't going to die.

"This is so not going to work," I muttered, then stepped over the low wall that separated the witch's garden from the graveyard. The cold seemed to turn to knives in my chest, and I slowed before I froze my nose from breathing too fast. Fatigue was nothing new, and I had all the tricks to stave it off. I could feel the ley line shimmering in my thoughts, but I angled to Pierce's statue instead. I didn't need to be in a line to talk to Al, and the patch of unsanctified ground surrounded by God's grace would keep Al from wandering if he decided to come over.

Pierce's monolith of a kneeling, battle-weary angel was creepy, looking not quite human with its arms too long and its features starting to run from pollution and the poor grade of stone. I'd used this red-colored patch of cement to summon demons three times now, and that I was treating this as almost routine was worrisome.

"Hey, Bis?" I called, then jumped when Bis landed suddenly on the angel's shoulder in a wash of air that smelled like rock dust.

"Holy crap!" I yelped, looking back at the church to see if anyone had noticed my surprise. "How about some warning, dude?"

"Sorry," the late-adolescent, foot-high gargoyle said, his red eyes whirling so fast in amusement that I knew he wasn't sorry at all. His pebbly skin was black to absorb what heat he could from the night, but he could change it, even when he fell into a torporlike state as the sun came up. He'd have more control over his sleep when he got older, but right now, like most teenagers, he was like a rock when the sun came up. He paid rent to Jenks by watching the grounds for the four hours around midnight when pixies traditionally slept. He'd been doing more than that since the temperatures dropped below pixy tolerance. He and Jenks got along great, seeing as Bis had been kicked off the basilica for spitting on people, and Jenks thought that was just fine.

"Why is Jenks mad at you?" he asked as he pulled his wings close, and I winced.

"Because he thinks he has to protect me, and I'm going places he can't," I said. "You can hear us from out here?"

The gargoyle shrugged and looked at the church. "Only when you yell."

Only when we yell. Brushing the snow off the base of the angel statue, I set the cookies down and brought out the mirror.

"Oh, that's ultimate!" Bis said as the wine-and-crystal-colored scrying mirror threw back the moonlight. I looked down at it, feeling the cold right through my gloves. I agreed with him, even though I thought something that called demons should be ugly. This was my second mirror, made with a stick of yew, some salt, wine, a bit of magic, and a lot of help from Ceri. The first one I'd broken over Minias's head when the demon had startled me. Ceri had helped me make that one, too. It was a contact glyph, not a summoning spell, and the double-circled pentagram with its symbols could open a path to the ever-after and any demon I wished to talk to. I didn't need to know their summoning name, just their common one. That, and the word that tapped into the demon's communal magic. Some days I really wished I didn't know the magic word.

Nervous, I hunched down to sit on the edge of the monolith, beside the cookies, and balanced the mirror on my knees. I took my right glove off and set my palm in the cave of the large pentagram. The red-tinted glass was icy cold to my naked fingers as the spelled glass transferred the cold of the night into me. Glancing up at Bis lurking above me, I said, "If Al shows up, get to hallowed ground, okay?"

The cat-size gargoyle nervously rustled his wings. "'Kay."

Satisfied, I pressed more firmly and reached to touch the nearby ley line.

Power that seemed to have picked up the chill of the night coursed in, finding a balance within me with an unusual flush of vertigo. Surprised, I leaned back until my shoulders hit the statue for balance. What in hell? The flow of energy was irregular, making me feel almost seasick. The odd sensation must be from my thin aura. Maybe auras functioned like filters, evening the highs and lows into a steady stream. The longer I held the line, the worse it got.

Bis dropped to stand uncertainly by my knee in concern, his clawed feet seeming to grow bigger when they hit the snow. "You okay, Ms. Morgan?" he asked, and I nodded slowly.

"Dizzy." Mirror balanced on my knees, I tucked a strand of floating hair behind my ear.

"Your aura is still thin," Bis said. "You sure you should be doing this?"

I blinked at him to get rid of the last of the vertigo. "You can see auras?" I asked, then rolled my eyes. Bis could see every ley line in Cincinnati in his mind, like I could see contrails in the daytime sky. When he touched me, I could see them, too. Of course he could see auras.

It was frigid out here, and since I was already connected to a line, all that was left was calling Al. Hands trembling faintly from light-headedness, I pressed my hand firmly and thought mater tintinnabulum to open a connection. The power of the ley line swelled in me, and my lips parted as I panted. God, this thin aura sucked-it felt like I was sick again-and I wondered how long until I was back to normal.

Shutting my eyes was worse, and I forced them open. It was as if I was in a huge space, but unlike before, when it seemed there were hundreds of whispering voices, there were only a few. Al, I thought again, making my goal specific, and I felt a part of me wing off in an unknown direction, a faint vibration seeming to echo through my mind.

I was contacting the demon, which was different from summoning. If I summoned Al into a circle, he'd be subject to my whims and a prisoner until the sun rose or he was able to make his escape through trickery or a lack of interaction with his summoner. He'd also be ticked, seeing as he would be taking on the payment for crossing the lines. No, I was calling him, which was cheaper, smut wise. He could ignore me, though he never refused a chance to flap his lip and show off. He could also use the connection to make the jump to our reality, which was why I was doing it out here. Us having an understanding or no, Algaliarept was a demon, and he would happily hurt Ivy or Jenks for the satisfaction of seeing me angry and impotent.

As expected, the demon picked up immediately, and the unusual vertigo from my thin aura vanished as my expanded experience narrowed to a single, tunnel-vision-like expression.

Itchy witch? his sharp thought echoed in mine. It was surprised and confused, and it was as if I could almost hear the elegant and precise British TV accent he used. I had no idea why. It's early, he thought, giving me the impression he was scrambling to organize his thoughts. It is early, isn't it? There was a hesitation, then, It's bloody hell four in the morning! If this is about exchanging my summoning name for that old mark of Newt's, the answer is no. I like you owing me two marks, and I'm enjoying not being yanked across the lines to answer stupid questions from stupid people. You included.

Worry that he might never make good on our agreement flitted through me, but he needed his name to make a living and would eventually want it back. He was in debt up to his eyebrows, and had the further indignity of not having a familiar to stir his spells and curses. Even better, he now lived in a dump of a two-hollow hellhole instead of the ten-room mansion deep underground that he kept bitching about. Everything but his kitchen and front room had been sold to bribe the demon muck-ety-mucks to let him out on parole.

Despite his numerous and loud complaints, he wasn't too unhappy, because I was the only witch alive whose kids would technically be demons...and I belonged to him. Sort of. I was his student, not his familiar, and he had me only one night a week. Just my luck it was Saturday. Not that I was dating or anything, but a girl liked to keep her weekends free just in case.

That I still had his summoning name meant he couldn't pursue his freelance job of luring stupid people into demon servitude and then selling them to the highest bidder. That I might get summoned out under his name didn't bother me as much as I'd thought it would. I'd scare the crap out of them so good that they wouldn't dare think to summon Al again, and they'd be safe. Soon as Al figured that out, he'd switch back. I hoped.

Curiosity got the better of him when I remained silent, and he finally added, What do you want? I'm not letting you go early tomorrow for starting early today.

My eyes met Bis's. The gargoyle looked concerned, shifting his clawed feet and using a wing tip to scratch the middle of his back. "Uh," I said aloud so the kid could hear at least half of the conversation. "Can I have the night off? I don't feel very well."

There was a slight background confusion in him, but Al was alone or I'd be able to pick up his thinking about whoever was with him. You don't feel well? he thought, then hesitated as I got the impression he was unhappy with the way he looked. There was a surge of minor power through his mind, followed by a flush of satisfaction, and then he added, You want time off because you don't feel well? No.

I could feel him ready to snap the connection, and I blurted, "But I made you cookies." I moaned, knowing if I played ignorant, he might give in. He knew I wasn't ignorant, but he liked it when I pretended, as if I could manipulate him. Which I could, so who was smarter after all?

The tingles of thought coming from him touched on crushed green velvet coattails and lace, and I guessed he was primping. And what the hell do I care about that? he thought, but there had been a flash of hidden interest, and I smiled at Bis's worried expression.

I exhaled, not caring that Al could read my relief, because he hadn't hung up on me. "Look, I was attacked by a banshee yesterday and she sucked most of my aura off. I don't feel good, and tapping a line makes me dizzy, so I don't think I can be of any use anyway."

I can think of a lot of things to do, he thought. And none of them involve standing up.

"Very funny. I'm serious," I said, wondering what I had interrupted. His thoughts were focused on...tidying up? Good grief, is he tidying up for me? "I would have gotten a work excuse, but I had to break out of the hospital just to get here to talk to you."

I felt a surge of annoyance, and then, quite unexpectedly, it vanished. My gaze slid to Bis. Crap, was Al coming over? "Bis, take off!" I said in alarm, then gasped as a wave of vertigo slammed into me like a cresting wave.

"Ms. Morgan!" Bis shouted.

I pushed the mirror off my lap as I struggled not to spew. Pain followed the nausea. My skin felt like it was on fire, the pulsating energy hitting me hard without my aura to even out the surges. My legs wouldn't work, and when I tried to stand, I fell over. I hit the snow-covered pavement on my side, managing to get my arms out so I didn't crack my nose open.

"Ms. Morgan?" Bis tried again, and I clenched in agony when he touched me and I felt like I was going to explode. Damn it, I'd been okay until Al tapped into me to make his crossing cheaper. The cement slab under me was hard, and my cheek burned against the snow.

I smelled burnt amber, and suddenly there was a pair of shiny, buckled shoes before my pain-clenched eyes. "Run, Bis," I panted, then sucked in air when the pain cut off with a blessed suddenness. The power of the line was gone, and it was just me lying in the snow.

"What, by my blood dame's shadow, am I doing in the snow?" came Al's refined British accent. "Morgan, get up. You look like a scullery girl down there."

"Ow," I said as his white-gloved hand grabbed my shoulder and hauled me up. I stumbled, my feet not quite finding the ground for the first second or two.

"Let go of Ms. Morgan," came a deep, gravelly voice from behind me, and still in Al's grip, I worked to look around me.

"Bis?" I stammered, and Al dropped me. Wobbling, I found my balance with a hand on Al's chest, shocked. Bis had released his body's warmth to melt a patch of snow, taking the water into him to increase his size. He was as tall as me now, a grainy black, and his wings spread to make himself look bigger. Water-filled muscles bunched and flexed, from his craggy feet to his gnarly hands. He was probably too heavy to fly, and when Al dropped back a step, the gargoyle hissed to show a long, forked tongue. Damn, there was steam coming off him.

I felt Al touch the small line running through the graveyard, and I jumped. "Al, no!" I shouted, feeling helpless as I stood between a red-eyed demon and a red-eyed, horned gargoyle, my hands outstretched to them both. When did Bis get horns?

"He's just a kid!" I shouted at Al. "Al, don't hurt him! He's just a kid!"

Al hesitated, and I flicked a look behind me at Bis, surprised by the change. Bridge trolls were able to change their size with water, too. "Bis, it's okay. He won't hurt me. Ivy wouldn't let me come out here alone if it wasn't okay. Just...relax."

The tension lessened as Bis stopped hissing. He slowly lost his crouch, shrinking only slightly as he closed his wings. Al's hands stopped glowing, and there was a curious sensation in me as the demon pushed a wad of force back into the line.

Al sniffed loudly, tugging his coat about him and adjusting his lace. "When did you get your gargoyle?" he said sarcastically. "You've been holding out on me, itchy witch. Bring him with you tonight, and he can have mortar cakes and tea with mine. Poor little Treble hasn't had anyone to play with in ages."

"You have a gargoyle?" I said as Bis shifted awkwardly, unused to this much mass.

"How else would I be able to tap a line so far underground?" the demon said with forced pleasantness. "And how clever of you to have one already." This last was said sourly, and I wondered what other nasty surprises he hadn't told me about.

"Bis isn't my familiar," I said, working to stay upright as my fatigue hit me anew when the adrenaline crashed. "Al, I really need the night off."

At that, the demon seemed to bring his wandering attention back from the cold night. "Stand up," he said, jerking me upright. "Get the snow off you," he added, smacking my coat to make the crusty stuff fall away. "What the devil is wrong with you, calling me out in the snow when you have that adorable little kitchen?"

"I don't trust you with my friends," I said. "Can we skip this week?"

His gloved hand lashed out and gripped my chin before I could think to move. I stifled a gasp, and Bis rumbled. "Your aura is nearly thin enough to tear...," the demon said softly, turning my face back and forth as his goat-slitted eyes peered three inches outside my outline. "It is far too thin to work the lines, much less travel on them," he said in disgust, and dropped my chin. "No wonder you were belly down on the pavement. Hurt, huh?"

I backed up, rubbing where it felt as if I could feel him still. "So I have the night off?"

He laughed. "God's little green apples, no. I'll just pop on home and bring back a little something to make my itchy witch al-l-l-l-l better."

That didn't sound good. I had looked in my books already, finding that there was no white charm to help replace a person's aura. I didn't know any black ones either. If there were any, vampires would know about them, seeing as that's what the undead ones siphoned off their victims along with the blood.

"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 secrets 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 nasty 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.

Heart pounding, I stared where he had been. "Damn it back to the Turn!" I shouted. Frustrated, I spun to the church, but there was nothing to help me there. The lights were bright, spilling out over the silent snow. Snatching up my bag and scrying mirror, I stomped to the back door, grabbing the cookies at the last moment. Al was going to be busy with Pierce for a while, but until I settled this, everyone with me was a potential target.

This was so not what I needed.