Name one other place that made you feel this kind of horror. This awful sense of futility.
So what’s your point?
I asked her dully.
She snatched a popcorn kernel out of the bamboo bowl she held and poked it at me impatiently.
What? Have you forgotten what we talked about all those Sunday afternoons?
After church. After lunch. During our long, ambling walks around her farm. We’d talked about everything. But those were usually our get-serious times. When we kids could tell her anything that was on our minds and expect a nugget or two of wisdom in return. Often, however, due to how we’d spent our mornings, our talks had turned to the nature of good and evil, everything that fell between, and how to tell where you stood at any given moment.
“Hell’s a real place,” she’d informed us. “Don’t you let anyone tell you different. And it’s not just a destination. It’s one of those powerful, sneaky places that will move in next door, wait until you’re looking in the other direction, then reach out and grab you if it can.”
“How do you fight something like that?” I’d asked.
Granny May had pursed her lips and looked at me sideways, her way of applauding me for asking the question she’d hoped for. “Purity of motive,” she’d responded. “Innocence of spirit.”
Why, you sly old witch,
I thought as the Magistrate loomed over me, his finely sculpted face set in a triumphant smile as he watched me weaken,
you’ve fought demons before
. Later, when I had time, I’d delve into Granny’s past. Right now, I’d just take her advice.
I closed my eyes. And concentrated on the purest, most innocent person I knew.
I could feel her. The same way I often felt Vayl through Cirilai and through my senses. E.J. hung out there at the edge of my psyche like a new star. So fine and bright I could feel the beauty of her being burning away my own darkness.
The Magistrate jumped and squawked. I opened my eyes. His coils had retreated. He’d reared back, rubbing his hands as if they’d been singed.
I reached out. Wrapped my own hands around E.J.’s cord.
As soon as I touched it, the last, wilted vestiges of vine dropped away. I strummed it. Made the music uniquely suited to my niece. It filled the air, loud as a symphony, joyous as a Christmas carol.
“No!” screamed the Magistrate, blocking both of his bleeding ears with his hands. “STOP!”
I played on until the echoes of that fresh, uncorrupted song bounced off all the other cords around us, pulling out harmonies that made me weep with joy. Not so the Magistrate.
He clutched at his black, glistening line. Tried to ride it back to its source. But it began to shred. Then
he
began to crack, like one of Evie’s porcelain dolls after a tumble off the shelf. His model’s body developed long fissures, as if everything inside it had shifted. His perfect face split. Skull and teeth, muscle and blood, replaced smooth red skin. But I continued to play until the Magistrate’s entire unbody shivered into pieces and the cord that bound him finally melted into tiny black globs of horror that fell like black rain back to where they’d begun.
I let my hands drop. God, I was so tired. And my cord was starting to fade. A sure sign my body was weakening. But was it smart to return before I’d talked to Raoul? How vulnerable would that leave E.J.? On the other hand, Dave might need me back at the house. As I debated, I felt myself suddenly pushed — hard — back into physical.
I felt my back bow as the pain of rejoining hit. When I finally regained my breath I only had enough to say, “What the . . . ”
Vayl leaned over me. “Is everything all right?”
I shook my head, trying to clear it.
Raoul? What’s the word?
No answer.
Shit!
“Cam!” I yelled. Natchez came running into the kitchen, took one look at me kneeling by David, who still wasn’t breathing, and slapped a tear from his cheek. “Where’s Cam?” I demanded.
“Working on Grace.”
“Get him! Now!”
Natch was back in thirty seconds with the entire team in tow.
“CPR!” I snapped. “Now!”
Without a word Cam went to his knees and started chest compressions.
“I thought you said Raoul —” Cole began.
“I’m not leaving it up to him,” I growled. I bent down to give Dave some air.
The door flew open again and Cassandra ran into the room. “Jasmine, I can See again!” she cried. She looked
