'No,' I whispered, terrified because Newt was right. 'I saw Lee do it. I can do it too.'
Black eyes glinting, Newt set the butt of its staff down. 'You won't figure it out. You won't believe; not yet. You have to make a deal…with me.'
Frightened, I wavered on my feet, and with the next step, I stumbled into the line, feeling as if it was a stream, warm and generous, filling me up. Almost panting, I teetered, seeing the eyes around me narrow with greed and anger. I hurt. I had to get out of there. The power of the line hummed through me, peaceful and comforting. There's no place like home.
Newt's expression went mocking, its pupil-black eyes spiteful. 'You can't do it.'
'I can,' I said, my vision darkening as I almost passed out. From the deepest shadows glittered green eyes. Close. Very close. The power of the line hummed through me. There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home, I thought desperately, pulling energy into me, spindling it in my head. I had traveled the lines with Lee. I had seen how he had done it. All it took was him thinking about where he wanted to be. I wanted to be home. Why wasn't it working?
My knees shook as the first dark shape came out to stand with an unreal thinness, slow and hesitant. Newt looked at it, then turned slowly to me, one eyebrow raised. 'One favor, and I'll send you back.'
Oh God. Not another one. 'Leave me alone!' I shouted, the rough edges of a rock scraping my fingers as I flung it at an approaching form and almost fell over. A gasp sounding like a sob came from me as I caught my balance. The lesser demon ducked, then straightened. Three more pairs of eyes glowed behind it.
I jumped as Newt suddenly was before me. The light was gone. Black eyes slammed into me, delving into my soul and clenching until fear squeezed out to bubble up. 'You can't do it. No time to learn,' Newt said, and I shuddered. Here was power, raw and swirling. Newt's soul was so black it was almost unseen. I could feel its aura press against me, starting to slip into mine with the force of Newt's will. It could take me over if it wanted. I was nothing. My will was nothing.
'Owe me or die in this squalid pile of broken promises,' Newt said. 'But I can't send you through the lines with a thin tie called home. Home won't do it. Think on Ivy. You love her more than that damn church,' it said, its honesty more cutting than any physical pain.
Crying out in angry, high voices, the shadows bunched and lunged.
'Ivy!' I shouted, accepting the bargain and willing myself to her: the smell of her sweat when we sparred, the taste of her Brimstone cookies, the sound of her steps, and the rise of her eyebrows when she was trying not to laugh.
I recoiled as Newt's black presence was suddenly in my head. How many mistakes can one life survive? echoed crystallinelike in my mind, but whose thought it was I didn't know.
Newt pressed the air from my lungs, and my mind shattered. I was everywhere and nowhere. The perfect disconnection of the line raced through me, making me exist in every line on the continent. Ivy! I thought again, starting to panic until I remembered her, fastening on her indomitable will and the tragedy of her desires. Ivy. I want to go to Ivy.
With a savage, jealous thought, Newt snapped my soul back together. Gasping, I covered my ears as a loud pop shook me. I fell forward, my elbows and knees smacking into gray tile. People screamed, and I heard the crash of metal. Papers flew, and someone shouted to call the I.S.
'Rachel!' Ivy cried.
I looked up past my falling hair to see I was in what looked like a hospital hallway. Ivy was sitting in an orange plastic chair, her eyes red and her cheeks blotchy, shock in her wide brown eyes. David was beside her, dirty and disheveled, Kisten's blood on his hands and chest. A phone rang and went unanswered.
'Hi,' I said weakly, my arms starting to tremble. 'Uh, could one of you maybe check me in? I don't feel so good.'
Ivy stood, reaching out. I tipped forward. My cheek hit the tile. The last thing I remember was my hand touching hers.
Thirty-three
'Coming!' I called out, my pace quickening as I strode through the dusky sanctuary to the door, my snow boots thumping to leave small inverse divots of snow behind. The huge dinner bell that was our doorbell clanked again, and I picked up the pace. 'I'm coming. Don't ring the bell again or the neighbors will call the I.S., for God's sake.'
The reverberations were still echoing when I reached for the handle, the nylon of my coat making a sliding sound. My nose was cold and my fingers were frozen, the warmth of the church not having had enough time to warm them up. 'David!' I exclaimed, opening the door to find him on the softly lit stoop.
'Hi, Rachel,' he said, looking comfortably attractive with his glasses, long coat, thick stubble, and his cowboy hat dusted with snow. The bottle of wine in his hand helped. An older man stood beside him in a leather jacket and jeans. He was taller than David, and I eyed his lightly wrinkled but trim physique in question. A wisp of snow-white hair peeped from under his hat. There was a twig in his grip, unquestionably a symbolic offering for the solstice bonfire out back, and I realized he was a witch. David's old partner? I thought. A limo idled softly behind them, but I was guessing they had come in the blue four-door parked in front of it.
'Rachel,' David said, drawing my gaze back to them. 'This is Howard, my old partner.'
'Pleased to meet you, Howard,' I said, extending my hand.
'The pleasure is mine.' Smiling, he slipped off a glove to extend a softly wrinkled, freckled hand. 'David told me all about you, and I invited myself. I hope you don't mind.'
'Not at all,' I said earnestly. 'The more, the merrier.'
Howard pumped my hand up and down three times before releasing it. 'I had to come,' he said, green eyes glinting. 'The chance to meet the woman who can outrun David and put up with his working style doesn't come along very often. You two did good with Saladan.'
His voice was deeper than I expected, and the feeling of being evaluated strengthened. 'Thank you,' I said, mildly embarrassed. I shifted back from the doorway in invitation. 'We're all back by the fire. Come on in. It's easier to go through the church than stumble through the garden the back way.'
Howard slipped inside in a whiff of redwood while David knocked the snow from his boots. He hesitated, looking up at the new sign above the door. 'Nice,' he said. 'Just get it?'
'Yeah.' Mood going soft, I leaned out to look up at it. The deeply engraved brass plaque had been bolted to the front of the church above the door. It had come with a light, and the single bulb lit the stoop in a soft glow. 'It's a solstice gift for Ivy and Jenks.'
David made a sound of approval laced with understanding. I flicked my attention from him back to the sign. VAMPIRE CHARMS; LLC. TAMWOOD, JENKS, AND MORGAN. I loved it, and I hadn't minded paying extra to make it a rush order. Ivy's eyes had gotten very wide when I pulled her out on the stoop that afternoon to see it. I thought she was going to cry. I'd given her a hug right there on the landing as it was obvious she wanted to give me one but was afraid I'd take it the wrong way. She was my friend, damn it. I could hug her if I wanted.
'I'm hoping it helps stop the rumors about me being dead,' I said, ushering him in. 'The paper was really quick to print my obituary, but because I'm not a vamp, they won't put anything in the risen-again announcements unless I pay for it.'
'Imagine that,' David said. I could hear the laughter in his voice, and I gave him a dry look as he stomped his boots a final time and came in. 'You look good for a dead witch.'
'Thanks.'
'Your hair is almost back to normal. How about the rest of you?'
I shut the door, flattered at the sound of concern in his voice. Howard stood in the middle of the sanctuary, his eyes ranging over Ivy's piano and my desk. 'I'm doing okay,' I said. 'My stamina is shot, but it's coming back. My hair, though?' I tucked a curl of reddish-brown hair behind an ear and the soft knit hat my mother had given me that afternoon. 'The box said it washes out in five shampoos,' I said sourly. 'I'm still waiting.'
Somewhat peeved at the reminder of my hair, I led the way into the kitchen, the two men trailing behind. Actually, my hair was the least of my worries. Yesterday I had found a scar with a familiar circle-and-slash pattern
