ache its absence left behind. There was a taste of metal on my tongue, and I glanced at the black surface, my mouth dropping as I saw my reflection in it for the first time. My red hair hung about my face, looking just as I would have expected, but my features were lost behind a smear of amber. 'Is my aura brown?' I asked.
'It's bright gold,' Nick answered as he dragged his stool around to my side of the counter. 'Mostly. I think you got it all. Can we …move on?'
Hearing the unease in his voice, I met his eyes. 'Please.'
'Good.' He sat and pulled the book onto his lap. Head bowed, he read the next passage. 'Okay, put the scrying mirror into the transfer medium, being careful not to let your fingers touch the media or your aura will reattach and you'll have to start over.'
I refused to look in the mirror, worried that I'd see myself trapped in it. Shoulders tense, I scuffed my slippers back on. My feet ached and my head throbbed with the beginnings of a migraine. If I didn't finish this quickly, I was going to be stuck in a dark room with a washcloth all day tomorrow. Taking up the mirror, I gingerly slipped it into the media. The specks of wild geranium flashed to nothing, dissolved by my aura. It was eerie, even by my standards, and I couldn't help an 'ooooh' of appreciation. 'What's next?' I asked, wanting to be done with it so I could take my aura back.
Nick's head was bent over the book. 'Next, you need to anoint your familiar with the transfer medium, but you have to be careful to not touch the media yourself.' He looked up. 'How do you anoint a fish?'
I felt my face go slack. 'I don't know. Maybe I could just slip him into the vat along with the mirror?' I reached for the book on his lap, turning the page. 'Isn't there anything about making a fish your familiar?' I questioned. 'Everything else is in there.'
Nick pushed my hands from the pages as one tore. 'No. Go put your fish in the spell pot. If it doesn't work, we'll try something else.'
My mood went sour. 'I don't want my aura smelling like fish,' I said as I dipped a hand into Bob's bowl, and he snickered.
Bob didn't want to go in the spell pot. Trying to catch his darting shape in a round bowl was almost impossible. Getting him out of the bathtub had been easy—I simply drained it until he was beached—but now, after a frustrating moment of near misses, I was ready to dump him onto the floor. Finally I got him and, dripping water over the counter, dropped him in. I peered into the spell pot, watching his gills pump the amber liquid.
'Okay,' I said, hoping he was all right. 'He's anointed. What's next?'
'Just an incantation. And when the transfer medium goes clear, you can take back the aura your familiar left you.'
'Incantation,' I said, thinking ley line magic was stupid. Earth magic didn't need incantations. Earth magic was precise and beautiful in its simplicity. My eyes shifted to the not-there candles and I stifled a shudder.
'Here. I'll read it for you.' He stood up with the book, and I made a spot for it beside Bob in the bowl. I leaned close to him over the book, thinking he smelled good, manly good. Intentionally bumping into him, I felt a warm current that was probably his aura. Too busy deciphering the text, he didn't notice. Sighing, I put my attention on the book.
Nick cleared his throat. His eyebrows bunched and his lips moved as he whispered the words, sounding dark and dangerous. I caught about one in every three words. He finished, giving me one of his half smiles. 'How about that,' he said. 'It rhymes.'
A sigh shifted my shoulder. 'Do I need to say it in Latin?'
'I wouldn't think so. The only reason they made these things rhyme is so the witch can remember them. It's the intent behind the words rather than the words themselves that does the trick.' He bent back over the book. 'Give me a moment and I'll translate it. I think I can even make it rhyme for you. Latin is very loose in its interpretation.'
'Okay.' Nervous and jittery, I tucked my hair behind an ear and looked into the spell pot. Bob didn't look happy.
' 'Pars tibi, totum mihi. Vinctus vinculis, prece factis.' ' Nick looked up. 'Ah, 'some to you, but all to me. Bound by ties made so by plea.' '
I dutifully repeated it, feeling silly. Invocations. Could it be any more hokey? Next I'd be standing on one foot and shaking a posy of feathers at the full moon.
Nick's finger ran under the print. ' 'Luna servata, lux sanata. Chaos statutum, pejus minutum.' ' His brow furrowed. 'Let's go with, 'Moon made safe, ancient light made sane. Chaos decreed, taken tripped if bane.' '
I echoed him, thinking ley line witches had a substantial lack of imagination.
' 'Mentem tegens, malum ferens. Semper servus, dum duret mundus.' Ah, I'd say, 'Protection recalled, carrier of worth. Bound before the world's rebirth.' '
'Oh, Nick,' I complained, 'are you sure you're translating that right? That's dreadful.'
He sighed. 'Try this then.' He thought for a moment. 'You could also translate it as, 'lee of mind, bearer of pain. Slave until the worlds are slain.' '
That I could live with, and I said it, feeling nothing. We both peered in at Bob, waiting for the amber liquid to go clear. My head pounded, but other than that, nothing happened. 'I think I did it wrong,' I said, scuffing my slippers.
'Oh—shit,' Nick swore, and I looked up to find him staring over my shoulder at the doorway to the kitchen. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing.
The hair on the back of my neck pricked. My demon scar gave a pulse. Breath catching, I spun around, thinking Ivy must be home.
But it wasn't Ivy. It was a demon.
Sixteen
'Nick!' I cried, stumbling back. The demon grinned. It looked like an aristocratic Brit, except that I recognized it as the one who put on Ivy's face and tore out my throat that spring.
My back found the counter. I had to run. I had to get out of here! It would kill me! Flailing to put the counter between us, I hit the spell pot.
'Watch the brew!' Nick shouted, reaching out even as the bowl tipped.
I gasped, tearing my gaze from the demon long enough to see Bob's bowl spill. Aura-laced water spilled over the counter in an amber wash. Bob slid out, flopping.
'Rachel!' Nick exclaimed. 'Get the fish! He has your aura. He can break the circle!'
'Rachel!'
Nick's shout tore my eyes from the grinning demon. Nick was desperately trying to catch Bob, flopping on the counter, and keep the spilled water from reaching the edge. My face went cold. I was willing to bet just the aura- laced water would be enough to break the circle.
I lunged for the paper towels. As Nick fumbled for Bob, I made a mad dash around the counter, laying squares of white to sop up rivulets before they could make puddles on the floor that would run to the circle. My heart pounded and I frantically alternated my attention from the water to the demon standing with a bewildered, amused expression in the archway to the hall.
'Gotcha,' Nick whispered, his breath exploding from him in a ragged sound as he finally gained control of the fish.
'Not the saltwater!' I warned as Nick held him over my dissolution pot. 'Here.' I shoved Bob's original bowl at Nick. Ordinary water sloshed out, and I blotted it up as Nick dropped Bob in. The fish shuddered, sinking to the bottom with his gills pumping.
Silence descended, framed by the heavy rasping of our breathing and the ticking of the clock above the sink. Nick's and my eyes met over the bowl. As one, we turned to the demon.
It looked pleasant enough, having taken the shape of a young man with a mustache, elegant and polished. It was dressed as an eighteenth century businessman in a suit of green velvet with lace trim and long tails. Round
