“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.
