Black Magic Sanction (21 page)

"But you are, huh?" Jenks said snidely, hand on the hilt of his sword.

"I'm better than you, pixy."

This was getting out of hand, and I glanced at Ivy, who was watching it all with growing agitation. And what had Pierce meant by "set myself beyond it"? Did he mean until I started doing deadly black magic, like him? "Jenks, relax," I said, and he drifted back, hands on his hips and his wings clattering harshly.

"One spell, and poof," Pierce said casually, and Ivy's face creased.

"I can take a coven of witches, you fairy fart!" Jenks exclaimed. "And lean take you!"

Concerned, I looked at the broken glass on the floor, remembering Ivy lying on it. I couldn't have saved her, white magic or not. Jenks was clueless as to how close it had been. "Maybe I should go," I said softly, and Jenks spun in the air, dropping three inches.

"Tink's titties. Rache, we have this!"

I took a deep breath, my stomach knotting as I exhaled. This felt wrong.

Ivy, too, looked uneasy. "I don't think this is beyond us," she said, "but Pierce is right. A moving target is harder to hit. Rachel should go."

Jenks flipped her off, and my stomach hurt even more.

"I'll talk to Rynn Cormel," Ivy said, adjusting her purse and clearly ready to leave. "He can put us up for a few days. Sound good?"

No, it didn't sound good, but even the coven would think twice about taking on the master vampire who had run the free world during the Turn. "Okay," I said softly, and Jenks flew an erratic path to come between Pierce and me.

"Rache, no," he pleaded. "This is wrong!"

I glanced at Ivy and Glenn, neither one looking happy. "I don't like it either."

Pierce cleared his throat, and Jenks glared at him, a burst of light seeming to push him into the air. "I'm going, too," he said. "I don't want you alone. And not with
him).
His aura is freakier than shadows during an eclipse."

"You can't," I said, remembering Pierce standing at the door watching Vivian flee, and the last parting shot that hadn't been necessary.
Animam, agerey efflare
... Didn't that have something to do with breathing? No wonder his aura was as dark as mine.

Jenks's dust shifted to an ugly, burnt gold. "Why the hell not?"

I looked at him, seeing the distress on his face, wishing I could do this differently. "Someone needs to stay and make sure the coven doesn't come in and grab a focusing object."

"They could hit her from a distance," Pierce said, his face so grim I wondered if he had been taken that way. "It wouldn't be legal," he said as his eyes met mine.

"But they'd do it," Ivy said softly, and Glenn frowned. I nodded, thinking of the leather jacket I'd left at the coven's circle, glad now that Oliver's charm had tainted it.

"Tink's dildo," Jenks said softly, falling until he stood on the coffee table. "Rache?"

"Glenn's right," I said, remembering that it was his idea first. "If they sent Vivian after me again, then they don't have anyone who can summon me—yet."
And if Nick goes back to them, Yll give him to Al and worry about my guilt later.
"Until then, they're reduced to snag-and-drag. If they can't find me, they can't snatch me. I'm leaving, but you're staying. I'm sorry. I need you here, Jenks." This felt wrong, but the logic was sound.

Jenks's wings hummed loudly as I stood, wavering until Pierce's fingers cupped my elbow. The Turn take it, my knees still hurt, but I could walk with the pain amulet. Maybe I could make this work for me? I had an old-lady disguise charm in the back of my cupboard.

"Ivy, call me when you know how bad it is?" I asked, and she nodded. Her hand was starting to swell, and it looked awful. Ivy's purse was in Glenn's grip, and it looked funny there. I thought of them together on a date—then squelched it.

"Soon as I clear it with Rynn, I'll let you know," she said. "Stay in a public place?"

"Not a problem." I came forward to give her a careful hug.

"This is fairy crap!" Jenks exclaimed, looking miserable as he hovered beside Glenn. "It doesn't feel right, Rache!"

"I'm right with you, Jenks," I said, then to Ivy, "You be careful." I breathed deep as I let her go, pulling the scent of vampire incense deep into me, mixing with my raspberry smell of the detangling spray and the cloying stench of the smoldering couch. I prayed that it wouldn't be the last time I saw her. This really felt wrong. "Don't tell Glenn that Nick was here," I whispered, and she sighed.

"Here, you'll need this," Ivy said, shoving a wad of cash at me, pulled from her purse, still in Glenn's possession.

I took it so she wouldn't get pissy. And then it was just Jenks and me, watching Glenn help Ivy to the door, looking right next to each other. Seeing them make their hesitant way, my heavy feeling of foreboding grew worse. The door shut behind Ivy, and the church became silent. Through the broken window came the melancholy hooting of a mourning dove.

Hand full of cash, I turned to Pierce, feeling the wrongness seep deeper into me. We were all going different ways. Not good. Forcing a smile, I started to shuffle to the kitchen. "So, Pierce. How would you like to learn how to drive?"

M
y lungs seemed reluctant to rebound after I exhaled, and my breath came slowly as I sat at the small round coffeehouse table and waited for Pierce to return with a caffeine-and-sugar buzz. Jenks' tiny phone, on loan, was small in my fingers, and after making sure I hadn't missed Ivy's call, I tucked it in my bag, hesitated, then moved it to a back pocket. It was almost noon, and still no Ivy. I was worried. Jenks hadn't been happy about me leaving. Neither was I. Pierce accompanying me didn't make me feel better, especially since he was turning heads.

I was so tired. Even the picture of babies dressed up as fruit salad couldn't make me smile. Somehow we'd landed at Junior's place. Or Mark's, if I remembered properly. I'd been banned because of my shunning, but no one had given me a second look when I'd shuffled in, the heavy-magic detection amulet above the door buzzing a warning at my old-lady disguise. Mark knew me by sight, and without the charm, we would've been chased out.

Why a fruit salad? I mused, tilting my head to get my hair out of my eyes. I hadn't time to put it back in a bun, which sort of diluted the old-lady thing. But it was gray now, and I certainly acted old, walking slowly from my bruised knees. Rummaging in my bag, I took the lethal-spell and heavy-magic detection amulets from my key ring and moved them to my pocket instead in case I got summoned out at sundown.

My back was to the wall as I sat at the same table where I'd once had a conversation with a spoiled brat of a banshee and her husband the serial killer. Outside, my mom's big blue Buick shone in the bright spring sun. Yes, we should have parked it somewhere else, but to be honest, when I spotted Junior's I had all but screamed for Pierce to stop the car. He wasn't a good driver, unable to get his feet to work the brake and gas with any precision. I think I'd bruised his ego. He'd been somewhat cold since.
Sor-r-r-r-r-ry.

I rubbed at my aching neck and smiled as I recalled his red-faced, benign cussing about jo-fired fife curs and strumpets. Gaze rising, I looked at the register where he was counting out exact change for our drinks, looking appalled by the cost. Mark was waiting impatiently, and our coffee was done and sitting at the pickup counter before the till was shut.

A sigh sifted through me, not all of it from my fatigue. Pierce looked charming in his vest, long duster, and hat, his softly waving hair almost to his shoulders. It made him look like a young Were as yet free of responsibilities. Tucking the folded receipt away, he went to get our drinks with the smooth grace of a vampire. Drinks in hand, he moved slowly, not trusting the plastic tops to keep them from spilling as he wove between the tables busy with noon customers—both breakfasting Inderlanders and lunching humans—avoiding all with the awareness of self that most witches have. It was strange watching Pierce. He was a quick study and had been among the living again long enough to pick up most things, but it was obvious he had trouble with some of the smaller stuff, like how to open a package of gum.

"Rachel," he said softly, eyes darting to mine before he placed a tall cup before me and sat at my elbow so that he could see the door as well. He looked confident but wary of the surrounding people. Furtive, maybe, as he tossed his hair from his eyes. He smelled good, too, a mix of redwood and clean hair.
And he used black magic as if it were a breath mint.

"Thanks, Pierce." Gaze dropping, I took the lid off so I wouldn't have to taste plastic with my coffee. My eyes closed in bliss when the shot of caffeine laced with raspberry slipped down. "Oh, that's good," I breathed, eyes opening to see him smiling. "You remembered."

"Grande latte, double espresso, Italian blend, light on the froth, heavy on the cinnamon, with a shot of raspberry in it." Tilting his head, he added, Tm not accustomed to seeing you graced with wrinkles. It takes a body a moment."

Graced with wrinkles? Cant he just say old?
I shrugged, embarrassed. "If I'd been thinking, I would have grabbed a disguise for you, too."

"You'd rather I be disguised?" he asked, and when I nodded, there was a soft pressure against me, as if something was rubbing my aura. My eyes widened when a sheet of ever-after flowed over Pierce, ebbing to nothing to show Tom Bansen. Same curling brown hair, same blue eyes, same slight build, same... everything.

"Uh, good," I said, uneasy at the reminder that Pierce was living his life out in another man's body, dead just long enough for his soul to depart. His posture, though, was Pierce's upright stance, and the slacks and vest, which were charming on Pierce, looked really odd on Tom. "You're a dead ringer for Tom."

Pierce flushed. "I am Tom Bansen, mistress witch. The trick is to look like myself."

That gave me the willies even more, and I hid my unease behind another sip. "Call me Rachel. We belong to the same demon, I think that entitles us to some informality."

He made a noise as he found a new way to sit. "To call a woman by her given name—"

"It makes you stick out," I said, starting to get peeved.

"It's powerfully disrespectful," he muttered, shaking his hand when his coffee spilled, squeezed from the cup when he took the lid off.

My eyes were on the bright sun on the street. "It's a rougher time, Pierce." Which I thought was weird. With all the conveniences and clean simplicity we lived in, people had lost a lot of polish. Sighing, I gazed up at the ceiling, glad no one had noticed Pierce changing. Few knew that the witch named Tom Bansen had been killed by a banshee and reanimated by Al to hold Pierce's soul only moments after Tom's last heartbeat. It was black magic in the extreme, and probably why Pierce's aura was now blacker than mine—among other things.

"Has Ms. Tamwood sent word?" Pierce asked intently, a weird mix of Tom and Pierce.

Another swallow of coffee, and the caffeine started to take hold. The cup warmed my hands, and I set it down. "No. I hope everything's okay. I'm about ready to leave her a voice message. Something doesn't feel right."
Something more than you next to me instead ofjenks.

Pierce ran a hand under his hat to get his hair out of his eyes. "I'm sorry for you having to leave your diggings, but it's not safe, Rachel. The coven—"

"Yes, I know," I said angrily. The church had always been my safe haven, and it bothered me that it was now a place of danger. It bothered me a lot.

Leaning back, Pierce crossed his arms over his chest. "A body might begin to suspect that you don't like me. I'm only trying to see you safe."

His eyes were narrowed, and I sighed. "Pierce... ," I started, and he looked away.
Save me from the tender male ego.
"Can you put yourself in my shoes for a minute?" I asked, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "Wouldn't you be the smallest bit upset if an entire society told you that you weren't able to take care of yourself? And then your babysitter told you to leave the security that you spent a year making? That it wasn't adequate?"

"You think I'm a babysitter?" he said, clearly annoyed.

"And then you realize he's right?" I continued. "And if he's right about that, then maybe the rest of them are right, too, and you aren't able to take care of yourself at all?"

His eyes flicked back to mine, and his expression eased. "I'm not your babysitter."

My shoulders slumped, and I pushed my coffee away. "I don't know if I could have handled Vivian today," I said, depressed. "She's using white magic, and she's making it deadly and totally legal. Ivy and I managed at the grocery store, but some of that was luck." I flicked my gaze up, my heart clenching at the sorrow in his eyes. "You saved my butt. Saved Ivy." Taking a deep breath, I looked at him. "I can't thank you enough for that. I appreciate everything you did, but I don't want to be someone who needs help all the time."

I couldn't stand to look at him anymore, and my thoughts returned to the black Latin falling from him. Black magic had driven Vivian away, not me. Maybe I did need a babysitter.