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.
