For a Few Demons More (18 page)

I grimaced at the ugly black sheen of demon smut crawling over my bubble, discoloring the usual cheerful gold of my aura. It was a visual display of the imbalance I carried on my soul, a reminder of the debt I owed for having twisted reality so far out of alignment that I could become a wolf and Jenks grew to human size. The discoloration was nothing compared to the thousand years of demon-curse imbalance that Ceri carried, but it bothered me.

All but the smallest amount of ever-after energy I had tapped had gone into maintaining the circle, but there was the tingle of a new buildup of force filtering in. It would continue to grow until I let go of the line completely. Many witches were said to have gone insane from trying to stretch what their chi could hold by allowing the pressure to build beyond what they could safely contain, but when my chi overflowed, I could spindle the line energy in my head. Demons could do the same, and their familiars. Ceri and I were the only two people this side of the lines who could spindle line energy. That we had survived Al with the knowledge intact hadn't been the demon's intent. Ceri had taught me the basics, but Al was the one who'd stretched my tolerances
and made the skill second nature—by way of an excruciating amount of pain.

“Ah, Rachel?” Jenks said, green-tinted sparkles slipping from him to pool in the sink. “It's worse than usual.”

My good mood vanished, and I frowned at the demon smut. “Yeah, well, I'm trying to get rid of it,” I muttered, then pulled my sketched pentagram forward.

Taking up a stone crucible I had bought at a ley line shop up in Mackinaw, I set it in the lowest space between the bottom of the pentagram and the circle surrounding it. Fingers still touching it, I murmured,
“Adaequo,”
to set it in place and give its presence meaning.

I felt a small surge from the line and twitched. Oh, it was one of
those
spells. Great.

My nose tickled. I stiffened, realizing I hadn't brought any tissue in with me. “Oh, no,” I said, my voice rising. Jenks looked panicked, and I sneezed. He was laughing when I brought my head up. Looking frantically for something to wipe my nose with, I settled on a scratchy paper towel, managing to tear off twice what I needed and getting it to my face just in time for the follow-up sneeze. Crap, I had to finish this spell fast.

The big-ass symbolic knife I had gotten at Findley Market from a cheerful woman went in the center space with the words
me auctore,
and a feather was given meaning when I placed it with the strength of
lenio
in the lower left-hand leg of the star. My nose was starting to tickle again, and I hurriedly checked the textbook.

“Iracundia,”
I said, holding my breath as I set Jenks's dandelion in the other leg of the star. All that was left was the candle.

The force in me had been building with every word, and with my eye twitching I set the blessed candle carefully in the topmost section of the star, hoping it wouldn't fall over and spill wax on my chalkboard so I'd be spending tomorrow cleaning it with toluene. This one wouldn't be set with a place-name until I lit it, and with that in mind, I plucked the bamboo skewer from where I had left it, setting it aflame again from the vanilla candle.

Wiping my free hand on my jeans, I shifted from foot to foot and transferred the flame to the blessed candle.
“Evulgo,”
I whispered, wincing as a surge came in from the line. My eyes widened. Oh, God, I
was going to sneeze again. I didn't want to know what it might do to my spell if it wasn't cast yet.

I moved fast. Grabbing the feather, I dropped it into the crucible. I snatched up the knife, and before I could get uptight about the ugly symbolism, I pricked my thumb and squeezed out three drops of blood. I would rather have used one of my finger sticks, but ley line magic was based on symbolism, and it made a difference.

The knife went back into its little spot, and I peered at the text, thumb in my mouth so I didn't get blood all over the place.
“Non sum qualis eram,”
I said, remembering it from another spell. Must be a generic phrase for invocation.

My urge to sneeze vanished, and I jerked in surprise when the crucible was engulfed in flames. There was a whoosh, accompanied by a twang through me. The cheerful red-and-orange flames flashed to a weird gold and black that matched my damaged aura—and went out.

Wide-eyed, I pulled my gaze from the soot-blackened crucible to Jenks, hovering over the sink. There wasn't anything in the bowl but a smear of ash stinking of burnt vegetation.

“Was that what was supposed to happen?” he asked.

Like I know?
“Uh, yeah,” I said, pretending to look at the text. “See, I'm not sneezing.”

I took a careful breath through my nose, then another, more relaxed one. My shoulders eased, and I let myself smile. I loved it when I learned something new.

“Good,” Jenks grumbled, taking to the air to hover before the bubble, still up and running. “'Cause I'm not getting rid of my cat.”

With a small thought, I broke my connection with the ley line. The circle vanished, and Jenks flew in to land next to the crucible, his tiny features wrinkled in distaste. Content, I closed the textbook and started to clean up my mess before Ivy got home. “I told you I wasn't…” My words cut off as my nose started to tickle. “I'm not…” I started again, feeling my eyes widen. Jenks stared at me, horror in his expression.

Eyes watering, I waved helplessly. “Achoo!” I exclaimed, hunching over, my hair falling to hide my face. It was followed by another, then another. Ah, crap, I'd made things worse.

“The Turn take it,” I gasped between sneezes. “I know I did it right!”

“Ivy's got some pills,” Jenks said. I could hear his wings, but I was too busy trying to catch my breath to look at him. He sounded worried. I knew I was. “In her bathroom,” he added. “Maybe they'll help.”

I bobbed my head, then sneezed again. Ivy had caught a cold last spring when we'd come back from Michigan. She had moped around the church for three days, coughing and blowing her nose—snarling at me every time I suggested making her a charm. She had taken pills with her orange juice every afternoon.

My breath came in little pants, and my nose tickled.
Crap.
Lurching to the hallway, I sneezed again. “I'm
not
allergic to
cats,
” I said while I groped to turn the light on. My reflection looked terrible, my hair all over the place and my nose running. I opened the cupboard, uncomfortable rummaging in her things.

“This one!” Jenks said, tugging at a thin amber vial.

I sneezed three more times while I fumbled to get the stupid thing open, trying to read that I was to take two pills every four hours. Why in hell had I tried to use ley line magic? I should have known better than to self-administer a medicinal charm. The aides in Emergency were going to laugh their asses off if I had to go in for a counterspell.

I stared at Jenks. My eyes widened; another sneeze was coming, and it felt like a big one. Not using water, I took two pills, looking at the ceiling and trying to swallow them.

“Water, Rache!” Jenks said, hovering over the tap. “You gotta take them with water!”

Waving him out of my way, I swallowed them down dry, grimacing. And, like magic, the urge to sneeze vanished.

Not believing it, I took a breath, then another. Jenks was having a fit over the wax cups, so I filled one, dutifully swallowing the lukewarm water to feel the pills slide down. “Damn!” I swore in admiration. “Those are great. Caught it midsneeze.” I set the cup down to pick up the vial, turning it over to read the label. “How much are these anyway?”

Jenks's wings clattered, he and his reflection slowly falling. “They don't work that fast.”

I glanced at him. “Really?”

He looked worried, his feet gently touching the counter and his wings stilled. He took a breath to say something, but a soft
pop
jerked both our heads up. My pulse went into overdrive, and I felt someone tap
the line out back. It startled me, and, gasping, I fell into Ivy's black porcelain toilet, slipping. I went down with a little shriek, and my butt met the tile. “Ow,” I said, holding my elbow where it hit something.

“Witch!” a resonant voice echoed, and I tossed my hair aside, taking in the robed figure in the threshold. “Why, by Cormel's gonads, does my coffee taste like dandelions!”

Ah, crap, it was Minias.

“Get out, Jenks!” I shrieked, scrambling up.

Minias swooped into Ivy's bathroom, his smooth face creased in irritation. Panicking, I pressed into a fluffy black towel hanging between the commode and the tub. “Don't touch me!” I shouted, then flung the contents of Ivy's pill vial at him.

With a twang, I felt him set a circle. Jenks was at the ceiling shouting something, and the little white pills bounced harmlessly against Minias's black sheet of ever-after.

I had to get out! There were too many pipes and wires in here to set a demonproof circle.

“What the hell?” Minias said, his goat-slitted eyes confused as he picked up a pill and looked at it. He had broken his circle to do it, and, scrambling, I grabbed Ivy's hair spray.

“Get out of my church!” I shouted, spraying him.

Orange-scented detangler hit Minias square in the eyes. Yelping, he stumbled backward into the hall to hit the dark walls. Arms and legs askew, he slipped to the floor. I didn't wait to see if he was down. I'd seen enough movies to know better.

Pulse hammering, I lurched out over him. He grunted as my foot hit something, and I gasped when he went misty and my foot slipped through him and found the floor.

My hands touched the walls to pull me forward, and I ran for the
kitchen. I had a circle there, still set with salt. Jenks was a blur of gold dust ahead of me.

“Look out!” he shouted, and I went down, my feet pulled from under me.

Memories of Al poured through me. I couldn't go back there. I couldn't be someone's plaything. I silently fought, kicking at anything, my years of martial arts forgotten.

“What is
wrong
with you?” Minias said, then grunted when my sandal hit something tender. He went misty, his grip falling away.

I pulled myself forward, almost crawling across the kitchen until the expanse of my circle was between us. Minias was close behind.
“Rhombus!”
I shouted, tapping the line and slapping my hand on the line etched in the linoleum.

Ever-after coursed in. Fear caused my control to slip, and more power than I liked raced through me, hurting. The circle went up, and Minias ran smack into the interior wall of it.

“Ow!” the demon exclaimed, purple robes furling as he fell back against the island counter. Hand over his nose, he looked at the smut crawling over my bubble. His hat had fallen off, and he glared at me from under his curls, turning almost choleric when he realized that his nose was bleeding. “You broke my nose!” he exclaimed, bright red demon blood pouring forth.

“So fix it,” I said, shaking. He was in a circle. He was in my circle. I took a breath, then another. Slowly I pulled my legs under me and stood, cold despite the warmth of the night.

“What the
hell
is wrong with you?” he asked again, clearly furious as a sheet of ever-after slithered over him. He took his hand from his nose to show that the blood was gone.

“Me?” I said, burning off some angst. “You said you'd call first, not just barge in!”

“I did call!” Minias roughly adjusted his robes. “You never answered, and then,” he shouted, flicking a finger under my expensive chalkboard to make it hit the floor, “instead of a simple ‘I'm busy, could you call back again later,' you slam the door in my face! I want this mark between us settled. You are rude, ill-mannered, and as ignorant as a toad!”

“Hey!” Face warming, I leaned to look around the counter to find
that my board had cracked. “You broke my chalkboard!” Then I hesitated, drawing back with my arms over my chest. “You were the one making me sneeze?” I said, and he nodded. “I'm not allergic to cats?” I looked at Jenks, elated. “Jenks! I'm not allergic to cats!”

Minias crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “Ignorant as a toad. Rude as an unwanted guest. Al is a saint for putting up with you, the novelty of your blood aside.”

Jenks was shooing his kids from the window, assuring them we were all right and to not tell their mother. “Me…rude?” I stammered, tugging my shirt back down where it belonged when Minias's gaze slid to my midriff. “I'm not the one just showing up!”

“I said I would call first.” His demon eyes narrowed. “I didn't promise it. And I'm not the one flinging pills and mace,” he added, scooping up his hat and jamming it on his head. His curls were sticking out all over, and damn me to hell if he didn't look good like that. Immediately I sobered.
No, no, Rachel. Bad girl.
And remembering what Ivy had told me this spring about my needing the threat of death to prove to myself that I was alive, I quickly shoved aside any idea that Minias was attractive. But he was.

Minias saw my anger fizzle, and, clearly used to dealing with volatile females, he dropped his gaze. When it returned to me, he was visibly calmer, though no less angry. “I apologize for startling you,” he said formally. “Obviously you thought you had something to fear, and grabbing you probably wasn't the best idea.”

“Damn right it wasn't,” I said, jumping when Jenks landed on my shoulder. “And don't try to sell me any crap about the kindly demon. I know three of you now, and you are all evil, insane, or just plain nasty.”

Minias smiled, but it didn't make me feel any better. His eyes drifted over the inside of my bubble. “I'm not kindly, and if I could get away with it, I'd drag you into the ever-after and have someone broker you off—but Newt would get involved….” He shifted his eyes to focus on me. “She doesn't remember you right now. I would like to keep it that way.”

“Tink's little red thong,” Jenks whispered, grabbing my ear for balance. Stomach clenched, I retreated until I found the fridge, the stainless steel cold through my thin chemise.

“With this debt standing between us without even a mark to keep
things tidy, taking you would be in bad taste.” Minias tugged his sleeves down over his wrists. “Once I grant whatever stupid wish you want, I won't have to restrain myself, but until then you're
relatively
safe.”

My chin lifted. Bastard. He had scared me on purpose. I didn't feel bad now at all for burning his eyes, or stomping on his privates, or for him running into my bubble. And I wasn't going to trust that until we settled this I was immune to him.

“Jenks,” I said softly as Minias looked over my kitchen, “will you send one of your kids to get Ceri?” She was likely over her pique at my sorry-ass ley line skills. And I didn't want to do this without her.

“I'll go,” he said. “They aren't allowed to leave the garden.” My neck went cold from the breeze of his wings, and he hovered, his angular features pinched. “You'll be okay?”

I watched Minias touch the herbs drying on the overhanging rack, wanting to tell him to get his fingers off them. “I'll be fine,” I said. “He's in a good circle.”

Minias's eyes followed Jenks zipping out with an unusual amount of interest. Looking mildly annoyed, he scuffed his bare feet against the linoleum, and a pair of embroidered slippers appeared on them. Slowly his brow smoothed under his brown curls. I fixed on the alienness of his eyes, trying to see the sideways pupil beside the dark iris. His back against the counter, he crossed his ankles and waited. Beside him was my spell to stop sneezing, and I didn't like the patronizing look he had favored me with after giving the pentagram a cursory glance.

“You're vastly deficient in line etiquette,” he said dryly, “but I'll admit that this is better than the moldy basements I'm always hearing about.”

“I didn't know you were making me sneeze,” I huffed. “You can't know what you haven't been told.”

Minias brought his attention from the dark garden. One eyebrow rose. “Yes you can.” Turning, he started messing in the remnants of my ley line spell. “So what's it going to be?” he said, holding the crucible in one hand and running a finger through the soot with the other. “Eternal life? Untold wealth? Unlimited knowledge?”

I didn't like the way he was rubbing his thumb and finger together, smelling the ash as if it had meaning. “Stop that,” I said.

Eyeing me from under his brown curls, he set the crucible down.
The sight of his elegantly robed figure doing something as mundane as tearing a paper towel and cleaning his finger looked odd. I frowned, my tension rising when he crouched to see my spell books.

“Leave those alone,” I muttered, wishing Ceri would hurry.

Swearing in Latin, Minias took his fingers off my books. When he rose, he had my nested set of copper spell pots, my splat gun sitting nice as could be in the smallest. I had a moment of worry that the charms in it, though expired, might have enough of my aura to break the circle. Minias, though, gave it only a quick glance, turning his attention to the largest pot. It was the one I had dented against Ivy's head, and I didn't like it when he held it up in disdainful disgust. “You don't actually use this?” he asked.

“Would you knock it off?” I protested. God, what was it with him? He was worse than Jenks when it came to inquisitiveness. His eyebrows high in amusement, Minias set the spell pot down and picked up the open spell book on the counter. My jaw clenched, but I said nothing this time. His lips curled up in amusement, Minias held the book splayed open in a single hand and, after adjusting his hat, levered himself up to sit on the counter beside my ley line charm. His curly head was almost among the pots and herbs.

Exhaling slowly, I took a step forward. “Look,” I said, and he drew his alien-seeming gaze to mine. “I'm sorry. I didn't know you were trying to reach me. Can we just get this mark thing settled so we can all move on with our lives?”

Eyes returning to the book, Minias took off his hat and murmured, “That's what I'm here for. You've had time to think up a wish. It's been almost five hundred years since I dealt with temporals, and I don't want to start it up again now, so let's hear it.”

My head dropped, and, suddenly nervous, I hiked myself up onto the counter beside the sink.
Temporals, huh?
Arms wrapped around knees drawn up to my chin, I thought of Jenks's shorter life span and how wishes always came back to bite you. Sure, the one I had made to get out of the I.S. had worked, but I was still trying to get out from under the demon marks that had come from it. If I wished for a longer life for Jenks, he might be in a state where he couldn't do anything. Or maybe he'd be the first vampire pixy, or something equally unpleasant. “I don't want a wish,” I whispered, feeling like a coward.

“No?” Clearly surprised, the demon shifted his legs, letting them drape down the counter to hide my spell books. “You want a curse?” His clean-shaven features turned sour. “I've never taught a witch, but I could probably wedge something past your thick skull.”

Interesting.
“I don't want to know how to do a curse,” I said. “Not from you anyway.”

Minias brought his wandering gaze from my yew cuttings drying in the corner. Cocking his head, he looked at me as if I'd only now caught his attention. “No?” he repeated. With one hand he made a gesture of question. “What do you want, then?”

Nervous, I slid from the counter. I didn't want to do anything without Ceri, but saying no seemed harmless enough. “I don't want anything.”

Minias's smile went patronizing. “And I'll believe that when the two worlds collide.”

“Well, yeah, I want stuff,” I said bitterly, not fond of being offered everything when getting it would cause more trouble than not having it to begin with. “I want my partner to live longer than a stinking twenty years. I want my friend to find some peace in her life and her choices. I want my stinking church…” I slammed my hand on the counter to make my palm sting. “…resanctified so I don't have to worry about the undead while I sleep! And I want to get rid of that thing in my freezer before it (a) starts an Inderland power struggle or (b) brings Newt knocking on my door for a cup of sugar again. But you…” I pointed. “…would give me what I want in such a way that it would ruin any joy I found in it, so forget it!” Angry and wondering if I was making a mistake, I crossed my arms and sulked.

Minias closed the book with a snap. I jumped, and, his red eyes fixed on me with an unsettling intensity, he slipped from the counter and came two steps forward. “You know what she was here for? You have it?”

My pulse quickened, and I pulled myself straight in worry. “I think so.”

Minias stood stock-still, only the hem of his robe moving. “Give it to me. I'll make sure Newt never bothers you again.”

My mouth was dry. Seeing him want it so badly, I knew that giving it to him would be a
very
big mistake. He didn't even know what it was. “Right,”
I said. “Like how you kept track of her the other night? You can't control her, and you know it.”

He took a breath to protest, and I arched my eyebrows. Head bowing in thought, Minias dropped back a step.

“You don't have anything I want, demon,” I said. “You're going to have to owe me.”

“You think I'm going to wear your
mark
?” he said, and my head came up at the incredulousness in his tone. “I am
not
going to wear your mark.” His cheeks were pale, but there was a deep anger in his eyes.

“Why not?” I said, liking the idea if only because he didn't. I recalled Trent saying I made decisions on the basis of how much I could irritate people, and I frowned. Minias, though, didn't see it, since he had made a huff of noise and turned his back to me.

His shoulders were very broad, and with the robe he looked regal and elegant next to me in my sandals, jeans, and chemise. I was still connected to the line, and I could feel my hair starting to snarl. I ran a hand over my curls, thinking I was really stupid to be worrying about my hair when I had a demon in my kitchen.