Black Magic Sanction (30 page)

"Looking forward to it," I said, glowering back at him. Saturday wasn't going to be fun, but at least stupid-ass Nick would be safe and sound in reality where he belonged.

Jax's wings were loud as he hovered over Nick, and the human was stumbling to his feet, using the wall for balance as he glared at me like he wanted to kill me. Al, though, was taking a sip of coffee, his eyes momentarily closing in bliss. Opening, they fixed on Nick. "Hard to imagine, my itchy witch speaking out for you. What twisted way will you find to thank her?" he mocked. "If I find you alone, I
will
take you." He shifted his gaze to Pierce, unrepentant as always. "We're going to talk, runt," he said, voice hard.

"Get out of here," Nick rasped, and in a soft haze of ever-after, Al was gone.

I took a slow breath, my knees starting to shake. "Damn it!" I shouted, startling myself as I realized what had happened. I'd saved Nick, but what about me? "Damn it to the Turn. Damn it all to hell and back!" I made a fist, but there was nothing to hit. I hadn't gotten my name back. I was just as screwed as I was when I'd been sitting in Alcatraz. "Just one break," I shouted at the ceiling. "Why can't I have just one lousy break?" Depressed, I slumped at the kitchen table. "Just one?" I asked, voice high and squeaky.

"Rachel!" Pierce shouted, and my head came up. Eyes widening, I looked up to see Nick coming at me with that knife. Gasping, I slid from the chair to under the table. Hand reaching behind me, I found my splat gun and pointed it at him.

Nick slid to a stop, holding the knife pointed backward and looking like he knew how to use it. "I trusted you," he rasped, his free hand on his throat, his blue eyes almost black in the dim light. Al's handprint was clear on his neck, and his eyes were wild.

"I just saved your ass!" I shouted from under the table, shaking. My aim, though, never shifted.

"I trusted you!" he shouted again. "I brought you into my
homel
And you summoned
him
into it. I should have let you bleed out in that library. I should have walked away and let you die! My life has been one shit fest after another since I met you!"

Pierce was moving cautiously forward to get between us, his eyes on Nick, not the knife. His hands were utterly devoid of magic, which made me feel better. The gun I had pointed at Nick was starting to shake, but I wouldn't drop it.

"Your life has been a shit fest?" I shouted, and Pierce halted. "Don't talk to me about a shit fest! I just bluffed my way out of
you
becoming Al's latest blow-up doll!"

Someone pounded on the wall, a muffled voice demanding we shut up.

"You can get Turned for all I care!" I continued. "And for your information, I didn't summon Al! He just showed up! He does that! My life has been hell since I met you, Nick. You saddled me with a demon mark and got this started. I don't owe you anything!
Anything!"

The last was a veritable shriek, and Nick lowered the knife. He glanced at Pierce, then me. Backing up, he set the dagger on the top shelf. Head down, he strode to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him roughly, not acknowledging what I had said. My eyes met Pierce's, and I swallowed hard when I heard Nick retching. Yeah, my stomach didn't feel all that good, either. Damn it, I was crying, too.

Jax hovered for a moment in indecision, then dropped to the floor and slid under the door.

The soft touch on my shoulder jerked me straight. Bringing the gun around, I gasped, trying to see through the tears. It was Pierce crouching beside me. "I-I... ," I babbled, but I couldn't let go of the gun. Nick... He'd wanted to kill me.

"Go away," I managed. I was crying, and I wiped the back of my hand under an eye.

"No," Pierce said gently, one knee on the faded linoleum. "I may have used your mistake to twist Newt into forcing Al to grant me leave, but I'm here, and I'm not leaving."

I looked up, numb as I wiped my eyes again. "I don't feel so good."

Pierce encircled me with his arms, and before I could protest, he pulled me out from under the table and carried me to the couch. I was trembling, and he draped the afghan over me. My blood was being drawn inward, leaving me cold. I couldn't let go of the gun. I wanted to, but I couldn't.

"I never should have come here," I said as Pierce tucked the scratchy yarn under my chin. "This was a mistake. You were right. I should have gotten on the bus."

"Just because you give a man the mitten doesn't mean you don't care for him," Pierce said, and I looked up, seeing Nick's and my words through Pierce's eyes.
A lovers spat?

"I don't love Nick," I breathed, numb. "He's a thief, and I'm attracted to danger. That's all. The thief part I might have been able to overlook, but the lies I couldn't."

Pierce had knelt beside me to put his eyes even with mine. Damn me if his stubble didn't make him look even more appealing. His concern was almost palpable, and my heart ached for having seen that same emotion in Kisten. But he wasn't Kisten. He was different.

"You risked everything to keep him from Al," Pierce said, his strong hands adjusting the afghan, always moving, adjusting, shifting. "If that's not love, what is?"

When Pierce got it wrong, he really got it wrong. "Pierce. Listen to me," I said, feeling the gun under the afghan. "I do not love Nick. But I could not stand there and let Al take him. Not for Nick's sake, but for mine. If Al got away with snatching people once, then his word to me wouldn't mean fairy farts."

His eyebrows went up, and his hands wiped my tears away. "You have grit, Rachel Morgan."

"You shouldn't have told me anything," I said, throat tight as I felt the gun shake in my hand. "I'm sorry I ever asked. He's going to give you hell on Saturday. I'm sorry."

Pierce shook his head, his lips pressed tight. "I suspicion... I think Al didn't mind me telling you about the lines, or he would have broken my circle and rowed me up salt river directly. It's not worth shucks."

"He might," I said, not wanting to see Al torment him. "He knows you were teaching me. He came because... " I hesitated, my tears stopping. "Al said he came because he felt me start to slip into a line." My eyes rose to his. "I was doing it?" I asked. "I was tuning my aura?"

Slowly Pierce's expression went from questioning to what might have been excitement. But then I sneezed. It was followed immediately by another.

"God bless," Pierce said, but I turned back with my hand over my face, my brief joy shifting to fear. My gut twisted, and that hollow ache I had thought was from despair worsened. I reached out in panic when it felt like the world dropped out from under me, my hand gripping Pierces shoulder. It was too soon for the sun to be down in San Francisco.
Is itAl?

"Pierce?" I whispered, scared to death. Someone had me. "Someone has me, Pierce!" I warbled, panic icing me. "I can't stop this!"

I heard the bathroom door open, and the hum of pixy wings.

Pierce's arms went around me, and yet, I felt them become thin. "Rachel, I swan you'll be okay!" he said, struggling to make me look at him, but I was panicking. "I'll find Bis, and then I'll follow you. I promise. No one will hurt you!"

"She's being summoned?" Nick asked from the other side of the room, ignored.

To resist was stupid. The tears came down for real this time, big and heavy. "Thank you," I whispered as I held Pierce, and then my gut twisted and I had to let go as I bent double. Pierce pulled me back to him, and I breathed in his warmth. "I take it," I moaned, forehead pressed into Pierce's shoulder, my voice harsh as I tried to breathe through the pain. The imbalance demanded to be paid, or it would kill me.

As soon as I uttered the words, the pain vanished. Breath catching, I looked up to Pierce, his stubbled face inches from mine, reassurance struggling to make it past the worry in his eyes. "I'll find you," he whispered.

"Okay," I breathed, trusting him.

And then his hands slipped through me. I was gone.

L
ike water down a drain, I felt my aura collapse, pulling through me and dissolving my body as it went, shrinking everything down to the mere thought of myself. Though I didn't have a heart, I listened for it, my nonexistent breath held as I felt myself slip into the lines, trying to find something different, a new sensation, a feeling that might help me figure this out. Someone was tuning my aura—or paying someone to do it for them.

Listen like Bis,
I thought, allowing a sliver of awareness to slip from the shell I had made about myself. That was a mistake.

Cold stabbed my mind, and I screamed. The agony was so intense, I missed falling into reality, my shriek exploding into existence before I did, echoing back from white walls and tile floors to sound inhuman. I took a breath to scream again, catching it back in a harsh gurgle. The gun in my hand dropped, clattering onto the white tile as I clutched at the floor.
Where am I?

The cold in my skull dulled to an ice-cream headache the size of Alaska. "That hurt... ," I panted. My fingers were cramping from having tried to gouge the tile while I was on my hands and knees. I was afraid to move; it had hurt that bad.
My gun. Where's my gun?

Panting, I looked past my hair to find a purple-and-black-tinted bubble of ever-after holding me.
Purple? I'd not seen an aura that purple in ages. Someone has an ego.

"Is it her?" said a voice behind me, and I managed to sit, grasping my arms to get them to stop shaking. My gun was right next to me.
Thank you, God.
Brooke, in her nice business dress all starched and pressed, and her shiny red heels. Why wasn't I surprised? No Vivian, though. Maybe she got smart.

"Hi, Brooke," I said dully as I sat cross-legged and put my splat gun in my lap. I hurt too much to be scared of the two big guys in lab coats with her. Where in hell was I? The sun was still up in the West Coast. With a thought, I reached for the nearest line through the purple bubble, finding I was still in Cincinnati and at the university. My eyebrows rose.
Whatcha doing, Brooke? Working outside the covens mandates? You had girl, you.

There were syringes on the cart beside the door. Looked like they were going to use human drugs instead of witch magic, understandable since earth magic wouldn't work after the salt dip I was sure was coming. Crap, there was a rolling bed with straps in here.

Yve seen this aura before,
I thought as I tested the bubble, curling my fingers under when they cramped and the biting tang of iron hit me. Jeez, I think the circle was made with blood.

"Drop your circle," Brooke demanded, and I followed her gaze to a corner, not recognizing the thin man pointing a shaking pistol at me. A security guard masquerading as a nurse was next to him, three muscle guys total. He was grim faced and watching the pistol, but clearly not minding it being pointed at me. My summoner was wearing a suit that looked a half size too big for him, tie askew, disheveled and scuffed, as if he'd been in a fight. Short black hair framed his small-featured face, and a new scrape on his cheekbone marred his honey-colored skin. Frightened expression. Actually, now that I was paying attention...

"Lee?" I blurted out, taking up my splat gun but not pointing it anywhere. He looked awful. When we'd first met, he'd been in a tux and I'd been in a borrowed dress that cost more than my car. He'd been dashing, charming, confident—and vying for the gambling cartel in Cincy. It had been a bid he'd been on his way to winning until he made the mistake of betting everything on a trip to the ever-after and pitting himself against me in a ley-line magic contest. I'd lost, and Al had taken him, the better ley-line witch, as his familiar.

The last time I'd seen Stanley Saladan, he'd been all but dead, having endured hosting Al in his head and body so the demon could run around this side of the lines for the better part of a month. Lee didn't look much better now.

Lee's eyes narrowed as I spoke, his slight Asian features angry as he held the pistol with both hands. Bullets couldn't get through the bubble—unless he dropped it. Clearly he thought I might be Al. Or not.

"No," he said in a clear Midwestern accent. "He can make himself look like her. I'm not letting him out until I hear him talk. I want to hear him talk!"

Knowing what would happen next, I checked the hopper of my splat gun and sighed.

"You are such an ignoramus," Brooke said impatiently, and gestured.

The big man in the lab coat reached for Lee, deftly smacking his arm away when Lee pointed the gun at him. Almost picking Lee up, the security guard shoved Lee into the bubble.

"Bitch!" Lee shouted, arms flailing as he hit the floor beside me, sliding clear through the bubble to collapse it. The pistol went off and ceiling tile pattered down as I scrambled to put my back to a wall, heart pounding and my gun moving. Three quick puffs, and two docs-in-a-box went down. I missed the one who had thrown Lee. He was good.

"Get her!" Brooke screamed, safe inside her little blue-tinted bubble.

Adrenaline surged, and I rolled. A sharp prick in my thigh iced through me, and I pulled a dart from it, tossing it aside. "I am not an animal!" I shouted, and plugged the last man right in the face with a sleepy-time potion. His eyes rolled up and he went down, but the damage had been done. What in hell? They didn't even use dart guns on Weres! I took a breath, holding it when the room spun.
Oh God. They'd drugged me.