Dead Witch Walking (11 page)

It’s claimed the ever-after used to be a paradise where the elves had dwelt, popping into our reality long enough to steal human children. But when demons took over and trashed the place, the elves were forced to bide here for good. Of course, that was even before Grimm was writing his fairy tales. It’s all there in the older, more savage stories/histories. Almost every one of them ends with, “And they lived happy in the ever-after.” Well…that’s the way it’s supposed to go. Grimm lost the “in the” part somewhere. That some witches use ley lines probably accounted for the longstanding misinterpretation that witches aligned themselves with demons. I shudder to think how many lives that mistake had ended.

I was strictly an earth witch, dealing solely with amulets, potions, and charms. Gestures and incantations were in the realm of ley line magic. Witches specializing in this branch of craft tapped directly into ley lines for their strength. It was a harsher magic, and I thought less structured and beautiful, since it lacked much of the discipline earth enchantment had. The only benefit I could see in ley line magic was that it could be invoked instantly with the right word. The drawback was that one had to carry around a slice of ever-after in their chi. I didn’t care that there were ways to isolate it from your chakras. I was convinced that the demonic taint from the ever-after left some sort of accumulated smut on your soul. I’d seen too many friends lose their ability to clearly see what side of the fence their magic was on.

Ley line magic was where the greatest potential for black magic lay. If a charm was hard to trace back to its maker, finding out who cursed your car with ley line magic was nigh impossible. That’s not to say all ley line witches were bad—their skills were in high demand in the entertainment, weather control, and security industries—but with such a close association with the ever-after and the greater power at one’s disposal, it was easy to lose one’s morals.

My lack of advancement with the I.S. might be placed at the feet of my refusal to use ley line magic to apprehend the big bad uglies. But what was the difference if I tagged them with a charm instead of an incantation? I had gotten very good fighting ley line magic with earth, though one wouldn’t be able to tell that looking at my tag/run ratio.

The memory of that pyramid of splat balls outside my back door twinged through me, and I poured the milk over the mouse hair and into the pot. The mixture was boiling, and I raised the bowl even higher on its tripod, stirring it with a wooden spoon. Using wood while spelling wasn’t a good idea, but all my ceramic spoons were still cursed, and to use metal other than copper would be inviting disaster. Wood spoons tended to act like amulets, absorbing spell and leading to embarrassing mistakes, but if I soaked it in my vat of saltwater when done, I’d be fine.

Hands on my hips, I read over the spell again and set the timer. The simmering mix was starting to smell musky. I hoped that was all right.

“So,” Ivy said as she clicked and clacked at her keyboard. “You’re going to sneak into the records vault as a mouse. You won’t be able to open the file cabinet.”

“Jenks says he has a copy of everything already. We just have to go look at it.”

Ivy’s chair creaked as she leaned back and crossed her legs, her doubt that we two midgets would be able to handle a keyboard obvious in how she had her head cocked. “Why don’t you just change back to a witch once you’re there?”

I shook my head as I double-checked the recipe. “Transformations invoked by a potion last until you get a solid soaking in saltwater. If I wanted, I could transform using an amulet, break into the vault, take it off, find what I need as a human, and then put the amulet back on to get out. But I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

She was just full of questions, and I looked up from adding the fuzz of a pussytoes plant. “Haven’t you ever used a transformation spell?” I questioned. “I thought vamps used them all the time to turn into bats and stuff.”

Ivy dropped her eyes. “Some do,” she said softly.

Obviously Ivy had never transformed. I wondered why. She certainly had the money for it. “It’s not a good idea to use an amulet for transforming,” I said. “I’d have to tie the amulet to me or wear it around my neck, and all my amulets are bigger than a mouse. Kind of awkward. And what if I was in a wall and dropped it? Witches have died from de-spelling back to normal and solidifying with extra parts—like a wall or cage.” I shuddered, giving the brew a quick clockwise stir. “Besides,” I added softly, “I won’t have any clothes on when I turn back.”

“Ha!” Ivy barked, and I jerked. “Now we hear the real reason. Rachel, you’re shy!”

What could I say to that? Mildly embarrassed, I closed my spell book and shelved it under the island with the rest of my new library. The timer dinged, and I blew out the flame. There wasn’t much liquid left. It wouldn’t take long to reach room temperature.

Wiping my hands off on my jeans, I reached across the clutter for a finger stick. Many a witch before the Turn had feigned a mild case of diabetes in order to get these little gems for free. I hated them, but it was better than using a knife to open a vein, as they had in less enlightened times. Poised to jab myself, I suddenly hesitated. Ivy couldn’t cross the circle, but last night was still very real in my thoughts. I’d sleep in a salt circle if I could, but the continuous connection to the ever-after would make me insane if I didn’t have a familiar to absorb the mental toxins the lines put out. “I—uh—need three drops of my blood to quicken it,” I said.

“Really?” Her look entirely lacked that intent expression that generally proceeded a vamp’s hunting aura. Still, I didn’t trust her.

I nodded. “Maybe you should leave.”

Ivy laughed. “Three drops drawn from a finger stick isn’t going to do anything.”

Still I hesitated. My stomach clenched. How could I be sure she knew her limits? Her eyes narrowed and red spots appeared on her pale cheeks. If I insisted she leave, she would take offense, I could tell. And I wasn’t about to show I was afraid of her. I was absolutely safe within my circle. It could stop a demon; stopping a vamp was nothing.

I took a breath and stuck my finger. There was a flicker of black in her eyes and a chill through me, then nothing. My shoulders eased. Emboldened, I massaged three drops into the brew. The brown, milky liquid looked the same, but my nose could tell the difference. I closed my eyes, bringing the smell of grass and grain deep into my lungs. I would need three more drops of my blood to prime each dose before use.

“It smells different.”

“What?” I jumped, cursing my reaction. I had forgotten she was there.

“Your blood smells different,” Ivy said. “It smells woody. Spicy. Like dirt, but dirt that’s alive. Human blood doesn’t smell like that, or vampire.”

“Um,” I muttered, quite sure I didn’t like that she could smell three drops of my blood from halfway across the room through a barrier of ever-after. But it was reassuring to know she had never bled a witch.

“Would my blood work?” she asked intently.

I shook my head as I gave the brew a nervous stir. “No. It has to be from a witch or warlock. It’s not the blood but the enzymes that are in it. They act as a catalyst.”

She nodded, clicking her computer into sleep mode and sitting back to watch me.

I rubbed the tip of my finger to smear the slick of blood to nothing. Like most, this recipe made seven spells. The ones I didn’t use tonight, I’d store as potions. If I cared to put them in amulets, they would last a year. But I wouldn’t transform with an amulet for anything.

Ivy’s eyes were heavy on me as I carefully divided the brew into the thumb-sized vials and capped them tightly. Done. All that was left was to break the circle and my connection to the ley line. The former was easy, the second was a tad more difficult.

Giving Ivy a quick smile, I reached out with my fuzzy pink slipper and pushed a gap into the salt. The background thrum of ever-after power swelled. My breath hissed in through my nose as all the strength that had been flowing through the circle now flowed through me.

“What’s the matter?” Ivy asked from her chair, sounding alert and concerned.

I made a conscious effort to breathe, thinking I might hyperventilate. I felt like an overinflated balloon. Eyes on the floor, I waved her away. “Circle’s broken. Stay back. Not done yet,” I said, feeling both giddy and unreal.

Taking a breath, I started to divorce myself from the line. It was a battle between the baser desire for power and the knowledge that it would eventually drive me insane. I had to force it from me, pushing it out from my head to my toes until the power returned back to the earth.

My shoulders slumped as it left me, and I staggered, reaching out for the counter.

“Are you okay?” Ivy asked, close and intent.

Gasping, I looked up. She was holding my elbow to keep me upright. I hadn’t seen her move. My face went cold. Her fingers were warm through my shirt. “I used too much salt. The connection was too strong. I—I’m all right. Let go of me.”

The concern in her face vanished. Clearly affronted, she let me go. The sound of the salt crunching under her feet was loud as she went back to her corner and sat in her chair, looking hurt. I wasn’t going to appologize. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

Heavy and uncomfortable, the silence weighed on me as I put all but one vial away in the cabinet with my extra amulets. As I gazed at them, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. I had made them. And even if the insurance I’d need to sell them was more than I made in a year at the I.S., I could use them.

“Do you want some help tonight?” Ivy asked. “I don’t mind covering your back.”

“No,” I blurted. It was a little too quick, and her features folded into a frown. I shook my head, smiling to soften my refusal, wishing I could bring myself to say, “Yes, please.” But I still couldn’t quite trust her. I didn’t like putting myself in a situation where I had to trust anyone. My dad had died because he trusted someone to get his back. “Work alone, Rachel,” he had told me as I sat beside his hospital bed and gripped his shaking hand as his blood lost its ability to carry oxygen. “Always work alone.”

My throat tightened as I met Ivy’s eyes. “If I can’t lose a couple of shades, I deserve to be tagged,” I said, avoiding the real issue. I put my collapsible bowl and a bottle of saltwater into my bag, adding one of my new disguise amulets that no one from the I.S. had seen.

“You aren’t going to try one first?” Ivy asked when it became obvious I was leaving.

I nervously brushed a curling strand of hair back. “It’s getting late. I’m sure it’s fine.”

Ivy didn’t seem very happy. “If you aren’t back by morning, I’m coming after you.”

“Fair enough.” If I wasn’t back by morning, I’d be dead. I snagged my long winter coat from a chair and shrugged into it. I gave Ivy a quick, uneasy smile before I slipped out the back door. I’d go through the graveyard and pick up the bus on the next street over.

The spring night air was cold, and I shivered as I eased the screen door shut. The pile of splat balls at my feet was a reminder I didn’t appreciate. Feeling vulnerable, I slipped into the shadow of the oak tree to wait for my eyes to adjust to a night with no moon. It was just past new and wouldn’t be up until nearly dawn.
Thank you, God, for small favors.

“Hey, Ms. Rachel!” came a tiny buzz, and I turned, thinking for an instant it was Jenks. But it was Jax, Jenks’s oldest son. The preadolescent pixy had kept me company all afternoon, nearly getting snipped more times than I would care to recall as his curiosity and attention to “duty” brought him perilously close to my scissors while his father slept.

“Hi, Jax. Is your dad awake?” I asked, offering him a hand to alight upon.

“Ms. Rachel?” he said, his breath fast as he landed. “They’re waiting for you.”

My heart gave a thump. “How many? Where?”

“Three.” He was glowing pale green in excitement. “Up front. Big guys. Your size. Stink like foxes. I saw them when old man Keasley chased them off his sidewalk. I would’ve told you sooner,” he said urgently, “but they didn’t cross the street, and we already stole the rest of their splat balls. Papa said not to bother you unless someone came over the wall.”

“It’s okay. You did good.” Jax took flight as I eased into motion. “I was going to cut across the backyard and pick up the bus on the other side of the block anyway.” I squinted in the faint light, giving Jenks’s stump a soft tap. “Jenks,” I said softly, grinning at the almost subliminal roar of irritation that flowed from the old ash stump. “Let’s go to work.”

T
he pretty woman sitting across from me on the bus stood to get off. She paused, standing too close to me for comfort, and I looked up from Ivy’s book. “Table 6.1,” she said as I met her gaze. “It’s
all
you need to know.” Her eyes closed, and she shuddered as if in pleasure.

Embarrassed, I thumbed to the back. “Jiminy Cricket,” I whispered. It was a table of accessories and suggested uses. My face warmed. I wasn’t a prude, but some of it…and with a vampire? Maybe with a witch. If he was drop-dead gorgeous. Without the blood.
Maybe.

I jerked as she crouched in the aisle. Leaning far too close, she dropped a black business card into the open book. “In case you want a second,” she whispered, smiling with a quick kinship I didn’t understand. “Newbies shine like stars, bringing out the best in them. I don’t mind playing second fiddle to your first night. And I could help you…afterward. Sometimes they forget.” A flash of fear crossed her, quick but very real.

Jaw hanging, I could say nothing as she stood and walked away and down the stairs.

Jenks flitted close, and I snapped the book shut. “Rache,” he said as he landed on my earring. “Whatcha reading? You’ve had your nose in it since we got on the bus.”

“Nothing,” I said, feeling my pulse hammer. “That woman. She was human, right?”

“The one talking to you? Yeah. By the smell of it, she’s a vamp flunky. Why?”

“No reason,” I said as I shoved the book to the bottom of my bag. I was never reading this thing in public again. Fortunately, my stop was next. Ignoring Jenks’s nonstop inquisition, I strode into the mall’s food court. My long coat flapped about my ankles as I immersed myself in the hustle of predawn Sunday shopping. I invoked my old lady disguise in the bathroom, hoping to throw off anyone who might have recognized me. Still, I thought it prudent to lose myself in a crowd before I headed to the I.S.: kill some time, gather my courage, pick up a hat to replace the one of Ivy’s I’d lost today—buy some soap to cover any lingering smell of her on me.

I strode past an amulet outlet without my usual, wistful hesitation. I could make anything I wanted, and if someone was looking for me, that’s where they would watch.
But no one would expect me to buy a pair of boots,
I thought, my steps slowing as I passed a window. The leather curtains and dim lights said more clearly than the name of the shop that it catered to vamps.

What the heck?
I thought.
I live with a vamp.
The sales associate couldn’t be any worse than Ivy. I was savvy enough to buy something without leaving any blood behind. So, ignoring Jenks’s complaints, I went in. My thoughts flicked from Table 6.1 to the flirtatious, handsome clerk who had warned the other salesmen off after taking a peek at me through a pair of wood-rimmed glasses. His name tag said
VALENTINE
, and I ate up his attention with a spoon as he helped me choose a good pair of boots, ooohing over my silk stockings and caressing my feet with his strong, cool fingers. Jenks waited in the hall in a potted plant, sullen and bad-tempered.

God help me, but Valentine was pretty. It had to be in the vamp job description, like wearing black and knowing how to flirt without triggering any of my proximity alarms. It didn’t hurt to look, right? I could look and still not join the club, yes?

But as I walked out in my new, too expensive boots, I wondered at my sudden curiosity. Ivy had as much as admitted to me that she was driven by smell. Perhaps they all put out pheromones to subliminally soothe and lure the unsuspecting. It would make it far easier to seduce their prey. I had thoroughly enjoyed myself with Valentine, as relaxed as if he had been an old friend, letting him take teasing liberties with his hands and words that I normally wouldn’t. Shaking the uncomfortable thought away, I continued my shopping.

I had to stop at the Big Cherry for some pizza sauce. Humans would boycott any store that sold tomatoes—even though the T-4 Angel variety was long extinct—so the only place you could get them was a specialty shop where it wouldn’t matter if half the world’s population refused to cross your threshold.

It was nerves that made me stop at the sweet shop. Everyone knows chocolate soothes the jitters; I think they did a study on it. And for five glorious minutes, Jenks stopped talking while he ate the caramel I bought him.

Stopping at The Bath and Body was a must—I wouldn’t use Ivy’s shampoo and soap anymore. And that led me to a scent shop. With Jenks’s grudging help, I picked out a new perfume that helped hide Ivy’s lingering scent. Lavender was the only thing that came close. Jenks said I stank like an explosion in a flower factory. I didn’t especially like it, either, but if it kept me from triggering Ivy’s instincts, I’d drink it, much less simply bathe in it.

Two hours before sunup I was back on the street and headed for the records vault. My new boots were deliciously quiet, seeming to float me above the pavement. Valentine had been right. I turned onto the deserted street with no hesitation. My old lady spell was still working—which might account for the odd looks in the leather shop—but if no one saw me, all the better.

The I.S. chose their buildings carefully. Nearly all of the offices on this street kept to a human clock and had been closed since Friday night. Traffic hummed two streets away, but here it was quiet. I glanced behind me as I slipped into the alley between the records building and the adjacent insurance tower. My heart pounded as I passed the fire door where I had nearly been tagged. I wouldn’t bother trying to get in that way. “See a drainpipe, Jenks?” I asked.

“I’ll check around,” he said, flitting ahead to do a little reconnaissance.

I followed at a slower pace, angling for the faint tapping of metal that I heard now. Thoroughly enjoying the rush of adrenaline, I slid between a truck-sized trashcan and a pallet of cardboard. A smile edged over me as I spotted Jenks sitting on the curve of a downspout, tapping it with his boot heels. “Thanks, Jenks,” I said, taking off my bag and setting it on the dew-damp cement.

“No problem.” He flitted up to sit on the edge of a Dumpster. “For the love of Tink,” he moaned, holding his nose. “You know what’s in here?” I flicked a glance at him. Encouraged, he said, “Three-day-old lasagna, five varieties of yogurt cups, burnt popcorn…” He hesitated, his eyes closing as he sniffed. “…south of the border style, a million candy wrappers, and someone has an almost unholy need for superchunk burritos.”

“Jenks? Shut up.” The soft hiss of wheels on pavement warned me into immobility, but even the best night vision would have a difficult time spotting me back there. The alley stunk so bad, I didn’t have to worry about Weres. Even so, I waited until the street was quiet before I dug in my bag for a detection spell and finger stick. The sharp jab of it made me jump. I squeezed the required three drops onto the amulet. They soaked in immediately, and the wooden disk glowed a faint green. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I had been holding. No sentient creature but Jenks was within a hundred feet of me—and I had my doubts about Jenks. It was safe enough to spell myself into a mouse.

“Here, watch this and tell me if it turns red,” I told Jenks as I balanced the disk beside him on the rim of the Dumpster.

“Why?”

“Just do it!” I whispered. Sitting on a bundle of cardboard, I unlaced my new boots, took off my socks, and set a bare foot on the cement. It was cold and damp from last night’s rain, and a small sound of disgust slipped from me. I shot a quick glance to the end of the alley, then arranged my boots out of sight behind a bin of shredded paper with my winter coat. Feeling like a Brimstone addict, I crouched in the gutter and pulled out my vial of brew. “Way to go, Rache,” I whispered as I remembered I hadn’t set up my dissolution bowl yet.

I was confident Ivy would know what to do if I showed up as a mouse, but she’d never let me live it down. The saltwater glugged nosily into the bowl, and I tucked the empty jug away. The screw top to the vial went plinking into the Dumpster, and I winced as I massaged another three drops of blood out of my throbbing finger. But my discomfort paled as my blood hit the liquid and the warm meadow fragrance arose.

My stomach clenched as I mixed the vial by hitting the side with a series of gentle thwacks. Nervous, I wiped a hand on my jeans and glanced at Jenks. Making a spell is easy. It’s trusting you did it right that’s hard. When it came down to it, courage was the only thing separating a witch from a warlock.
I am a witch,
I told myself, my feet going cold.
I did this right. I will be a mouse, and I will be able to turn back with a dip in saltwater.

“Promise you won’t tell Ivy if this doesn’t work?” I asked Jenks, and he grinned, roguishly tugging his cap lower over his eyes.

“Whatcha going to give me?”

“I won’t lace your stump with ant killer.”

He sighed. “Just do it,” he encouraged. “I’d like to get home before the sun goes nova. Pixies sleep at night, you know.”

I licked my lips, too anxious to come up with a retort. I had never transformed before. I’d taken the classes, but tuition didn’t cover the cost to buy a professional-grade transformation spell, and liability insurance hadn’t allowed us students to sample our own brew. Liability insurance. You gotta love it.

My fingers tightened on the vial and my pulse hammered. This was going to really hurt.

In a sudden rush, I closed my eyes and downed it. It was bitter, and I swallowed it in one gulp, trying not to think of the three mouse hairs. Yuck.

My stomach cramped and I bent double. I gasped as I lost my balance. The cold cement rushed up, and I put a hand out to stop my fall. It was black and furry.
It’s working!
I thought in both delight and fright. This wasn’t so bad.

Then a sharp pain ripped through my spine. Like blue flame it ran from my skull to my backbone. I cried out, panicking as a guttural shriek tore my ears. Hot ice ran through my veins.

I convulsed, agony taking my breath from me. Terror struck me as my vision went black. Blind, I reached out, hearing a terrifying scrabbling. “No!” I shrieked. The pain swelled, driving everything from me, swallowing me up.