THE BAZAAR (The Devany Miller Series) (11 page)

Ugh. 

First thing after Tom's car pulled away I checked the windows in the house, even the spider web-strewn attic to see how vulnerable we were to attack. Conclusion? Too scary to contemplate, my mind awash with images from horror movies and paperback thrillers. We had a security system, but no one but me ever remembered to set the alarm when we were home. And the kids were vulnerable when at school. How could I protect them when I was at work?

The thoughts of what might happen weakened my knees. I sat on the couch, hugging my legs to my chest, indulging in a freak-out before I shut my eyes and tried to breathe away the anxiety.

It worked—sort of. Finally, I said, "Arsinua? Neutria? We need to come up with a plan to keep my family safe."

They conferred in my head, a strange experience that made me feel uncomfortably close to eavesdropping. Impatiently, I flipped on the TV, saw Tom had been watching FOX news and quickly changed it to something worth my time. I was debating between Millionaire Matchmaker and a documentary on Civil War doctors when Arsinua came forward.

There are ways of making your home safe, your children. However, it would take the use of the heart to keep the magic flowing from Midia. 

"You said that was happening anyway, right? You said that the connection was there."

Yes, but it is closed. Only when I wish to use some of the magic there, do I open the gateway. This would mean leaving that gateway open.

"Which would mean what?"

I don't know what consequences it would have. 

"But you don't want me asking Tytan, right?" I checked the curtains, glad I'd closed them. I didn't want the neighbors gazing in and seeing me talking to myself. They'd be thinking it was no wonder Tom cheated—his wife was a whack-job. 

"Neutria? Any ideas?"

You won't kill. I can't protect from here.

I sighed. "Let's make one thing clear. I won't kill random strangers, okay? But if some mental asshole comes after my kids to harm them, I won't have any problem killing them. Later, I might deal with the psychological ramifications, but believe me, my kids come first." 

She approved of my bloodthirsty declaration and I didn't like it, but if she had a way to keep my kids safe? Well, I guessed I shouldn't be too fussy.

Web.

"Uh. I don't think that would—"

Stupid human. Not physical web. Made of spirit matter from Midia. Anchored with lodestone.

I hadn't thought of lodestone. That would be perfect.

"Lodestone? You mean a magnet?"

In your world, yes, it's a naturally made magnet. In Midia, it is like solidified magic. It would take a long time for it to bleed out. It would anchor our spells—the chythraul's web—and we wouldn't have to leave a gateway open.

Arsinua hesitated despite her excitement.

"What's the catch?"

Not a catch. No one can bring more than grains of it over because the pull is too great. But with the heart, it might be possible to bring bigger chunks over. I guess we won't know until we try it.

I grunted. "The pull?"

The hook repels the lodestone. Bringing it through the hook severs the pull. But since the heart creates its own hook, we can bring big enough pieces over to anchor our spells.

Traps. Wish to hunt. Wish to kill, feed.

My stomach rumbled which grossed me out and made Neutria laugh. "That's not funny. Do either of you know why I'm consuming eight times my own weight in food these days?"

The heart and our presence, I assume. 

"The heart, the heart. Ugh. It always comes back to the heart. Why the hell did you make this damned thing, anyway?" I grumbled, realizing, too late, that Arsinua had retreated in pain. "I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm tired and frightened."

I'm ashamed of myself for not being stronger.

"What happened?"

Her anxiety shook inside my brain.
I
can't. Still, I can't talk of it.

"Okay. When you're ready." I stood. "Let's get going." I grabbed my keys and purse by the door, but Arsinua stopped me. Sort of. She thought stop and so I did. It annoyed me and freaked me out that she could have that much influence over my actions. "What?"

As you said, the heart is a hook. We should use it as such.

"But you said you didn't know how." I thought of the fair and the hook to the fleshcrawlers' domain. Because of the heart, I could feel the tug of the hooks. I didn't sense anything like that here.

Make your own door.

I splayed my hands out. "How?"

Picture it. Remember the feel of the hook at the fair. Remember how it looked, how it called to you. Close your eyes and remember.

I didn't want to, didn't want to know how to open doors to other worlds, but my eyelids shut. I opened them again. "Did you do that? Are you working my body parts? Because I don't think I like that. Or approve."

I didn't. I suggested it.

Uh huh. Somehow, I didn't believe her. I waited. "Don't do that."

I didn't.
Her words were more strident now. She sounded pissy. Good. I was pissy too.

I counted to twenty, then closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. My brain began thinking of the bills sitting on the counter, awaiting checks, so I had to drag my attention back to imagining a door. Imagining the hook.

Another breath. Another. I peeped, seeing nothing but my living room. Screwed my eyes shut again and tried to force concentration upon myself. In. Out. In. Out. Door. Hook. Shimmery feeling. Goosebumps.

My skin lifted. I sucked in a breath as the air around me changed, charged itself like electricity in a storm cloud. My breath left me as that cold steel in the pit of my belly grew noticeable again. Then whoosh. 

I stumbled a bit on the landing. I was standing in the middle of someone else's living room. I guessed it was a living room, although it bore little resemblance to mine. Glowing balls of light illuminated the corners. A silky blue rug fluttered on the floor, herbs hung in four corners of the room. A woman sat gazing at me in astonishment.

"Sorry. Uh. Just passing through?"

"A hook in my living room?" Her voice rose to a squeak. She sounded excited as if it were the best thing to happen in a long time. I couldn't get what was so great about having an interdimensional doorway in your home, but then again, I was a mundane earthling. 

"I'll be going. Enjoy the hook." To Arsinua, I said, 'Will it last? Is there a hook there, now?'

No. Not a permanent one, anyway. You wouldn't want her stepping over into your living room.

Grimacing, I threaded my way through the woman's home and left by the side door, finding myself in a quiet little neighborhood. "Where do we find them?"

The hills.

She gave me the way and I sighed at the distance. "Don't you people know how to fly?"

She laughed.
It takes a lot of energy. There's a bus to the hills every hour. They are a sacred place. Heavy with magic. Go to the next corner and take a right. There's a stop three blocks down.

"I don't have any magic fairy dust to pay the troll driver," I said.

No trolls. And fairy dust is free for the asking. As long as you don't mind doing a fairy a favor.

"Fairy favors." I snorted. "Doesn't sound too difficult."

They're pains in your ass. Trust me.

I laughed this time, glad to see something other than a serious side from Arsinua. "What am I going to use for money?"

We'll make some. The heart will help.

"Doesn't sound ethical." She didn't answer. I guess levity only lasted so long with her. If I could make money with this blasted rock inside me, then I figured I should use it to make myself rich in my own universe.

Doesn't sound ethical.

I grinned. At least she was trying. I bantered with her, remembering how much Nex had helped me. Maybe she needed a break from the guilt weighing her down. Maybe it would help her see her problem from another perspective, one not discolored by her shame.

She had me pick up a rock from the side of the road and taught me a few words to chant. It was silly, sing-songing the words to the pebble, but I did it and once again felt the chill of the magic inside me going to work.

The rock changed to a flat, oval coin, its face stamped with a pentagram, its obverse stamped with a tree. I rubbed at it with my thumb until Arsinua told me to knock it off.

You'll rub away the spell and it'll change back before we get off the bus. The council frowns on using magic to make coins. We'd get in trouble.

The coin didn't look so cool now. I held it gingerly then, wishing I were anywhere but there. I found the bus stop but it was unlike any we had on earth. A soft voice ordered me to step on a small, circular disc that whisked me up in the air where two others waited: a teen and an elderly man who looked like he might be one hundred and eighty years old. 

'How old do you people get?' I asked Arsinua.

We age the same as you, but our time moves more slowly here. He's probably being used as a conduit for someone else.

'A what?'

Her distaste filled me.
He's a battery for someone else's magic. Not many enter into arrangements like that because, as you can see, it greatly shortens your lifespan. Some become conduits to pay off debts although it's technically illegal.

Yikes. I tried not to stare. The girl saved me from being caught gawking by getting in my face. "What are you?"

"Excuse me," I said. "There's such a thing as personal space and I didn't invite you into mine."

She moved back, but only one grudging inch. "You smell like a stumblebum." Her nose wrinkled. “And death.”

“And you smell like cat piss.”

Arsinua whispered a few words and my arm flared with heat.
Push up your sleeve and show her the mark.

The effect it had on the girl was astonishing. She backed up so fast her legs hit the bench seat and she sat down. Hard. 'What did you do?'

I made you one of the Council’s enforcers. That Sigil on your arm gives you the right to take her into custody because of that pin on her shirt. It means she supports the use of humans in magic.

I yanked the pin off her shirt and gave it a toss. “Don't let me catch you wearing that shit ever again.”
We both watched as the girl fell getting off the bus platform, limping as she ran from the stop.

'I think she peed her pants.'

Serves her right.

I glanced at the old man and his hands shot in the air. “You think it's a good idea to kill people to boost your magic?”

“No ma'am.”

“
Good.” I leaned against the rail and waited, my stomach doing flip flops as the bus pulled in; the damn thing was hovering unsupported in midair. 'Is this safe?”

Of course.

I let the old man on before me, nerves making me hesitate until the bus driver grunted impatiently at me. I paid him my fake coin and took a seat.

He wasn't a troll. I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or not over that one.

FOURTEEN

T
he hills were beautiful. I found myself giddy with the power around me. I could fly here; I was certain of it and actually managed to lift myself an inch off the ground before Arsinua shrieked at me.

Honestly, she could be a party pooper. 'No one saw me.'

You'll get yourself hauled before the council if you aren't careful. Only those who use humans in their magic can fly.

'Then how do the buses do it?'

They're made from stone mined on the other side of Midia. It repels this lodestone. Then there are stabilization spells, guidance spells, movement spells. A complicated process and one done without the use of humans. If I had wanted to fly, I would have needed the bones of a stumblebum and the heart—after he or she engorged.

'Engorged?' Again, the faces of Yvonne and Jeremy swam into my mind. They had looked sick, yes, but not swollen.

It isn't pretty.
A brief picture flashed from her memory and I gagged.

"Oh god," I said, too surprised to remember to talk to her inside my head. She shushed me again and directed me around the nearest boulder to get away from gawkers. Taking deep breaths to banish the horror from my mind, I concentrated on the beauty around me once more. ‘I’m stopping these assholes, Arsinua. I don’t care what it takes. That’s ...’ I didn’t even have a word for what that was. 

I tried to save a young man who—stop here. This will be a good place to gather.

She didn't finish her answer and I wasn't sure I wanted to hear it. Instead, I asked 'Why don't you guys come up here, load up your pockets and increase your magic that way?'

We don't absorb the energy. I feel it building in you, spooling inside as if it's storing itself in you, but it's not like that for us. We can touch the stone and hold it, use it to direct our magic but it's no more powerful to us than a regular magnet is for you on your planet.

I did feel the energy building in me and—like the food I'd been eating and eating—it didn't fill me up, either. Maybe the heart was a black hole inside me, consuming what it could get its greedy little hands on. Not that it had hands, but still.

I kicked around at the rocks on the ground. "How big do these things need to be?"

Not large. Small egg size. Fill your pockets and then we'll try to get back to your world.

Goody. More danger.
I stooped over and gathered the rocks, stuffing them into my pockets until they bulged like a chipmunk's cheeks. "Okay. Ready to be horribly mutilated."

Such positive thinking.

"Mmm." But I'd already envisioned the door. It came quickly this time, but instead of walking through it I decided to try something else. I didn't want to end up in some stranger's living room back on Earth—a human wouldn't be as understanding about the sudden appearance of a person in their home—so I tried to envision my own living room beyond the hook I'd made.

That's not how hooks work. You can't pick and choose your exit point. It has to be parallel to your entry point or it won't work.

This time I shushed her. Concentrated on the door and my own living room beyond. At first, it was vague, fuzzy, as if I were seeing it through a cloud of bar smoke, so I focused my imagination on the picture hanging on the wall. It was a portrait of my grandma and grandpa the day they'd married, looking too young, smiling into the camera when most people of the day kept straight faces. I loved that photo and the wonder, innocence, and hope it symbolized. I pictured it, held it steady in my gaze, stepped forward—

—
and slammed back against the rock. I pushed away from the boulder, my head throbbing. "What happened?"

The stones pulled you back. You weren't prepared.

"Prepared? How the hell could I have been prepared for that?"

Try again. It's amazing. You were able to hook to a different space. If you can do that, you can overcome the lodestones.

She had more faith in me than I did. Head still smarting, I shut my eyes once more, feeling royally pissed at the rocks in my pocket. The door opened—that was the easy part now. The hard part was what I could hold onto inside my house so the magic wouldn't pull me back through to Midia. Something physically tangible, which brought to mind the granite counter top in the kitchen. If I could hook my fingers over the edge of that and hang on long enough to close the door behind me ...

I pictured the top, imagined myself with a grip on the edge. It worked—but I'd forgotten how slippery it could be. Sweat slicked up my fingers. I scrabbled for a grip but the lodestones in my pocket yanked me back and slammed me to the ground.

I lay there, unmoving, until Arsinua asked if I were okay.

"Yes, damn it." I pushed myself up, groaning, then dusted off my pants and shirt.

Maybe we should give up.

"Nope." I pictured the door.

I don't want you to get hurt.

"Shut up," I said, not unkindly. I had to concentrate, to find the thing I could hang onto for dear life. I remembered the pull-up bar in the basement. Bolted to the ceiling with five-inch safety bolts. It wouldn't give way and if I wrapped my legs around it, I was sure I could hold on.

I lay back down on the ground, this time with my legs aimed toward the hook. I opened it again, imagining hard in my mind the pull-up bar, the shadowy corner it hung in, the weight bench to one side, and the dumbbells on the other. I wrapped my legs tight around that bar, hooking my feet against the ceiling joist. Slipped my hands in and then, after a deep breath, Pulled.

For a moment I was certain I would let go or that my legs would break. It felt like a fifty-ton truck hung on me. My hands gave way. I shrieked, slamming the door as hard as I could picture it slam. For a moment a horrible wind rushed through as if the devil himself were rushing out of hell then the hook closed and my upper body flopped down, still hanging by my shaking legs.

Lodestones rained down on the floor like hail.

"I did it." My muscles shook. I wasn't sure I could get up high enough to grip the bar to lower myself down but somehow I found the strength. I dropped down with an ungraceful thud, twisting my ankle underneath me. "Ow. Ow. Shit." I sat on the bench and stared at the grey lumps littering the floor. All that for some rocks. "They damn well better work."

Arsinua didn't say a word. I guessed she was too stunned that we'd done it to be able to speak. 

I glanced down at my watch and winced. It was already two thirty. An hour in Midia, sure, but on earth the day had blasted by without me. I made myself gather up the stones and stagger upstairs to the shower. I stank and my muscles demanded hot water.

I was toweling off when I heard the front door slam shut. I dressed quickly and jogged downstairs. "Hey Bethy. Set the alarm?"

She looked at me as if I were screwy. "We never set the alarm."

"We should. That's what it's for. Do you remember how?" Of course she didn't, she'd never used it in the four years since we had it installed. I made her repeat the steps until she had it down pat, and then repeated the process with Liam.

Tom called to say he'd be late. I didn't ask why and he didn't offer any explanation, which pissed me off. Irrational? Maybe. But we were still married. Still had kids together. We deserved more from him.

Dinner was grilled cheese and green beans, with creative smoothies from the berries in the freezer and the chocolate chips in the pantry. As I blended, I asked Arsinua how I would use the stones to keep the kids safe but couldn't raise her. Had she been harmed when I'd forced us through the hook? I shoved my concern for her to back of my mind when Bethany plopped her science book on the counter and Liam began pelting me with math questions, most of which I had to Google to find the answer. They were finishing their work when the phone rang.

I picked it up.

"I was looking into my scrying glass last night," an airy voice started and I sighed.

"Hi Ann. Did Tom call you?" 

"Tom who? It's like I'm watching a horror movie. Dark shadows. Cones of power. What's going on?"

For the longest time I'd pooh-poohed Ann and her magic mumbo jumbo. Harmless enough but silly. What grown up believed that prancing around a circle waving a stick could change anything in the real world? Yet now I was traveling between dimensions, holding court to an assassin spider and a witch—a real, honest to goodness witch—and I couldn't dismiss her anymore. She'd been right, if born on the wrong side of the universe.

"It's a complicated thing, Ann." The kids were arguing over the last half of a sandwich, so I slipped into the laundry room where they wouldn't overhear me. "Did you see in your scrying mirror that Tom and I are," I stopped, sick of saying the words. I forced them out. "getting a divorce?"

"Oh. Oh, Devy. I'm so sorry." The compassion in her voice made me break down and cry. 

She murmured soothing words while I blubbered, not offering anything more than her support. I appreciated that. So many times people tried to give you advice. The last thing you wanted to hear when your heart was breaking was advice on how to fix what was wrong.

Some things weren't fixable. 

When my waterworks dried up, she said, "I'm coming down."

"No, no. You don't need to. Not now. Maybe it a few months. I might need you then. To help me with the kids once Tom and I are separated. But don't come yet. Okay?"

"Okay. I'll say a prayer for you."

"Thanks, Ann. Love you."

"Love you too. Blessed be."

We hung up and I stuffed clothes in the washer to make my presence in the laundry room legitimate before sneaking upstairs to wash my face. It wouldn't fool either kid if they got a close look at me, so I decided to declare a movie night, which would mean dimmed lights and lots of popcorn. 

As I was leaving the bedroom, a figure stepped out of the shadows. I jumped a foot but didn't shriek. It was the dark angel, looking as beautiful and as sorrowful as the last time I'd seen her. "Oh boy. What does he want now?"

She didn't smile, but her lips twitched. "He asked me to find out what the energy flux was today. It caused a stir among the Skriven."

"Oh? Huh." Was nothing I did private anymore? Honestly. "I picked up some magic rocks in Midia. To protect my family."

Her flawless brow furrowed slightly. "Protection? From whom?"

Okay, maybe some things weren't known by all. "A group of witches that might want me dead. For helping stop the human trafficking law from being passed."

She tipped her head to one side, her silky black hair a shimmery curtain. "Tytan will protect you."

"For a price, yeah. I'm not willing to be indebted to him, thanks." I stared at her. "What's your name, anyway? How'd you get involved with Tytan? Are you … are you Skriven too?"

Immobile and expressionless, she reminded me of a robot. It was only when she spoke that she had any animation in her face. "I have no name. Tytan made me."

She is a formless one. The Skriven make them out of the blood of murder victims.

'Now you show up," I muttered, my mind focused on the dark angel, how she'd vowed to protect my kids. I aimed my question at her. "Why did you lie to me about having children?"

"Part of me did not."

Holy shit. Anger spiked inside me at Tytan. Leave it to him to create such a horrible creature—a tormented creature at that. "You have to have a name."

"Do I?" Genuine curiosity colored her words.

"Well, yeah."

"Why?"

That stumped me. Why did people need names? To avoid a bunch of hey you, no not you, you exchanges, I supposed. "To give you an identity."

"But I am made from many."

"I don't care. You need a name." Damn you, Tytan. If I hadn't thought you were an ass before, I did now.

Don't. Don't mess with Tytan's minion. I beg you.

'Hell yeah I'm going to mess. This is abominable. Cruel. Chauvinistic, too, damn it. She deserves a fucking name.' I stared at the dark angel, who gazed back, expressionless now.

"What shall you call me, then?"

I shook my head. "No. Not me. You. What do you want to call yourself?"

Her eyes were grey, like a rainy day sky. "I cannot."

A formless one cannot name itself. It would be breaking Skriven law. She'd essentially be unmaking herself with the act. Leave it be.

"Fine." I stepped back, pissed and upset. Then I stopped. Uh huh. No way was I going to walk away from this. I worked at a women's shelter, for heaven's sake. My job was to empower women. And even if that woman was from a demon dimension, she deserved the same assistance as an earthbound woman. "Lucy."

She stared.

I stared back, floundering. Didn’t she like it? Had I succeeded in killing her by saying it aloud? "Uh, you know. Well, maybe you don't. An actress named Lucy Lawless played a tough, kick ass woman named Xena, warrior princess. So, Lucy."

She still stared. Oh fuck. I did kill her. She was probably unraveling from the inside out. I reached out but my hand froze halfway to its trip to her because her lips twitched again and this time they moved up into a smile. It wasn't a beaming smile, it barely passed a smirk but it was there. It was real.