Ever After

finger. There was a little notch in the metal. If I hooked my thumbnail in it just right, I could spin it almost entirely around my finger and catch it again. Horrified, I stopped, somehow knowing that I wasn’t the first to spin it like that, around and around.

His fingers spasmed in mine. “My apologies. Try again.”

As fast as that, a sensation of the line spiraled through me, heady and strong. I snatched at it, pulling it to me. The howling of the imbalance scraped across my nerves, and realizing just how much Quen had been shielding me from it, I gritted my teeth and sifted through the noise to find a bright gold thread in my mind’s eye, a tinge of smut making it almost bearable. This was my original imbalance, and gathering everything up but that, I tuned my aura surrounding it to the imbalance in Newt’s line in my garden.

“Sweet mother of God!” Quen exclaimed as the ache in the line and in my head evaporated. I jumped, startled as the bubble of imbalance suddenly vanished. I felt a pull, and I dug my awareness into the present to keep us from sliding to join it. There was a sliding ping, and then . . . nothing. The event horizon was gone.

“We did it!” I exclaimed, the pure tone of my line singing through me like icing. I was almost dancing. “Quen, we did it!” I shouted again, and Quen let go of my hand, beaming. Before us, the purple sludge was gone from the line. It was humming, in tune with reality—apart from the original imbalance, that is.

The wind from Etude’s wings sent my hair flying as he landed behind us on the upraised half of the garden. “The imbalance is at the small line in the churchyard,” he said, his deep voice rumbling and his ears slanted parallel with the ground to look like a peeved horse. “I can feel it there, but only because I know where to look.”

My elation vanished. We had done it, but it was only half over, and the gargoyles were suffering. They were suffering as I reveled in our accomplishments. “Ku’Sox is going to be pissed.”

“That’s not the half of it,” Ku’Sox’s voice said, and I spun. Behind me, Etude began to hiss, sounding like a train making long, powerful huffs. Quen stiffened, stepping before me.

“Congratulations . . .” the demon drawled, taking in my pale clothes and Quen’s black attire. “Now you’re dead.”

“Down!” I cried, pulling on the clean purity of the line before me.

Ku’Sox’s black spell raced toward us, shedding silver sparkles. The line in my mental grip slipped through my fingers like silk, and I scrambled for it, my mouth gaping. I could do nothing. What in hell?

Quen’s circle saved us, and both of us fell to our knees as Ku’Sox’s spell imploded on its surface, lighting the area in a flash of lightning.

The line! I thought, unable to find it in my light-stunned vision, and then my panic turned to anger. It was Quen. “Quit hogging the line!” I shouted, ignoring Quen’s offered hand as he tried to help me up. Etude had jumped between us and Ku’Sox, stalking back and forth with his wings half open. He looked far more menacing than when Bis did it.

Ku’Sox hesitated, his features pressed as he reassessed everything while I got to my feet. Quen stood staunchly beside me, tall and unbowed and smelling of crushed grass and wine.

“An unbound gargoyle?” Ku’Sox said, the disgust in his voice obvious as he watched Etude. “What do you hope to accomplish there?”

“You kidnapped his son!” I said, then elbowed Quen in the ribs. The line had gone slippery. “Let go of the line, damn it,” I muttered, then I filled my chi when he did. “We need to work on this sharing thing,” I said, and he grimaced.

I dared a look at the line humming clean behind Ku’Sox. “Your sludge is out of the line,” I said boldly. “It was your aura signature on the curse that broke it. Give me Bis and Trent, and I might not press charges.”

Ku’Sox smiled, and I couldn’t help my shiver. “In a moment,” he said, smile fading as Etude paced between us. “It looks clean, and I don’t sense any . . . trickery. What have you done, Rachel? You can’t have fixed it. You moved it, but where? Curious.”

I stiffened as he looked to the sky then took one sharply angled step sideways into my line like it was a river. “You lose!” I shouted, adrenaline pouring into me, and Quen caught my shoulder to keep me from striding forward. “I’m calling Dali. Your ass is mine, and you will admit you broke it!”

“I . . . don’t think . . . so.” Ku’Sox was in the line, tasting it, almost, making sure it was truly clean. It was. I could guarantee it.

“Your aura signature is at the bottom of that sludge line!” I asserted, and Ku’Sox laughed.

“Perhaps, but I don’t see a sludge line.”

“That’s because I got rid of it!” I shouted, and then I fell back, my folly falling on me. I’d moved all the imbalance, yes, and his curse with it. Until I got all the imbalances where they belonged, no one would be able to see his curse. Damn it! Couldn’t I catch a single Turn-blessed break?

“Tell me how you did it,” Ku’Sox said, seeming to be genuinely curious. “You couldn’t have destroyed it. You put it somewhere, holding it in your chi perhaps? Is that why you stole a pair of elven rings?” He simpered at Quen. “Needed some help holding that much slop?”

My head hurt, and I lifted my chin. I didn’t think he knew which rings we had, or he would be more aggressive. That I hadn’t proved he was responsible for the event horizon was infuriating, but if we couldn’t prove we were stronger than him, it wouldn’t matter. Cowards! Why am I helping them?

“I wonder,” Ku’Sox said, standing in my line and soaking it in, bathing in energy. “Can you defend yourself while hiding all that imbalance?”

Etude’s ears pricked in alarm, and I stiffened, imagining a circle around Quen and me. Ku’Sox shifted, and my eyes widened. I reached for the ley line, shouting “Rhombus!” only to fall to a knee, fumbling for the line running through my fingers like sand.

Quen pushed out, and I ducked as the sparkles of his thrown energy lit the dark. I could feel the line flowing through me, running into him. I was adding to Quen’s defense, but I might as well have been a cat with the help I was being.

Etude roared, his hands grasping as he lunged at Ku’Sox. “No!” I cried out, but Ku’Sox shouted a satisfied- sounding word, and Etude was flung back, flipping head over tail, headed for . . . us.

“Rachel!” Quen cried, jerking me out of the way as Etude crashed into the retaining wall. Rocks and dirt sifted down over him. I shook off Quen’s hand and ran to him, brushing the dirt from his huge, pushed-in face. The gargoyle was breathing, but out cold.

“Quen?” I stammered, looking up at him. His lips were pressed together hard, but his anger wasn’t at me as he helped me up. I didn’t think it was directed at Ku’Sox, either, who was advancing slowly. We were up shit creek, and I didn’t even see the “if” that got us there. The rings were not working well. Quen was way outclassed.

“You’re not holding the imbalance,” Ku’Sox said, curious now. It was the only thing keeping him from hammering us into the ground. “Who is? Is it Newt?”

I am wearing a slave ring . . . echoed in my head, and I looked at my hand in horror. What have I done to myself?

“No, not Newt,” Ku’Sox mocked, misunderstanding the look of terror I knew I was now wearing. “You’re all alone at last, Rachel. It took me longer than I thought to get you isolated. Everyone likes you.”

I am wearing a slave ring!

Ku’Sox threw something at us, and Quen knocked it away. I hid behind him, unable to think, to comprehend. I had to get this thing off!

“She’s not alone,” Quen said, and Ku’Sox laughed.

“You?” Ku’Sox stopped eight feet back, not trusting my fear, I think. “You don’t count,” he said lightly, looking at his nails. “They’re letting us fight it out, even if they do like her best. Isn’t that nice? They want the strongest parent possible for the next generation.” He smoothed his clothes in satisfaction. “That would be me.”

Letting us fight it out? Yeah, that sounded about right. We were making enough noise in the ley lines to pique the interest of the most sedentary demon, and the chicken squirts hadn’t shown up yet. That didn’t bother me as much as the fact that I couldn’t get the ring off my pinkie. Scared, I leaned to Quen’s ear. “I want the ring off.”

“I know. You can’t tap a line worth the salt in your veins. I’m sorry,” he said, and then I cowered as I felt a huge tug on me and Quen’s bubble flashed into existence, glittering a fabulous green before it faded. “If we take