For a Few Demons More (17 page)

It felt damn good saying that, but Jenks dropped three inches and groaned, and Ivy glanced at the garment bags in understanding. “Rachel, you didn't…” she said, and I flushed.

“I'm working a wedding and a reception,” I said tightly. “How bad could it be?”
Really bad. Really, really bad.

But Dr. Williams was squinting at his van and shaking his head.
“Your financing came through fine. I simply can't do it. I'm sorry. If you'll excuse me…”

Crap. The first guy to come out here hadn't been able to either.

The man tried to leave, but Ivy moved with a vampire quickness, surprising all of us. Giving me a tight-lipped look, she muttered to me, “We're going to talk about this,” and then to Dr. Williams, blinking at her suddenly before him, “Your ad says—”

“I know what the ad says,” he interrupted. “I wrote it. I told you, we don't have the experience for your situation.”

He got another step down before Ivy was in front of him again, a dangerous thinning of brown around her pupil. He stopped, angry as he took off his purple ribbon. His disregard for the danger she represented surprised me, until I decided that if he could sanctify ground, he could probably take care of himself. I ran my eyes over him again, new thoughts sifting through me.

“Look,” he said, dropping his head. When it came back up, there was an expression of warning in his gaze. “If it was just resanctifying it, I could do it, but your church has been blasphemed.”

My lips parted, and Ivy crossed her arms over her chest in an unusual show of worry.
I twisted a demon curse on blasphemed ground without the protection of my aura? Great.

“Blasphemed!” Jenks exclaimed, silver sparkles sifting from him. In the bushes there was a high-pitched call from a winged eavesdropper, quickly hushed.

The man looked from the bush to me. “From the bedrooms up to the front door,” he said, clearly resigned he wasn't leaving until I was satisfied. “The entire church is contaminated. I'd have to get the demon smut off first, and I don't know how to do that.”

His lack of fear seemed to give Ivy something to tie her emotions to and bring them back under control, but Jenks clattered his wings aggressively. He was getting ready to pix the man, and their attitudes were starting to tick me off. If Dr. Williams couldn't do it, he couldn't do it.

“Jenks,” I admonished, “back off. If he can't do it, it's not his fault.”

The doctor's grip on his tackle box tightened, his pride clearly feeling the sting. “It's usually the coroner who is called in to clean up failed demon summonings, not me.”

Ivy stiffened, and before she could get all vampy, I interjected, “I didn't call the demon. She showed up on her own.”

He laughed bitterly, as if he had caught me in a lie. “She?” he mocked. “Female demons can't cross the lines.”

“Can't, or won't?”

That made him pause, his expression taking on a hint of respect. Then he shook his head and his expression became hard. “Demon practitioners have a life expectancy of months, Ms. Morgan. I suggest you change your profession. Before your state-of-aliveness does it for you.”

Dr. Williams took a step down, and I shot after him, “I don't deal in demons. She showed up on her own.”

“That's my point.” His feet were on the sidewalk, and he stopped and turned. “I'm very sorry, Ms. Tamwood, Jenks…” His gaze lifted to me. “…Ms. Morgan, but this is outside my current abilities. If the ground hadn't been cursed, there would be no problem, but as it is…?” Shaking his head again, he headed for his van.

I shifted the garment bags to my other arm. “What if we got the ground cleaned?”

He stopped at the back of his van to open it and set his toolbox in it. He slammed it shut, his purple ribbon still in his grip. “It would be cheaper to move the bodies out of the cemetery and build a new church on hallowed ground.” He hesitated, his attention flitting to the copper sign above the church door, proudly stating
VAMPIRIC CHARMS
. “I'm sorry. But you should count yourself lucky you even survived.”

Shoes scuffing the pavement, he disappeared around the side of the van. The sound of his driver's-side door shutting seemed loud in the quiet street, drawing attention to the tinkling of an ice cream truck. As his van drove away, Ivy sat on the second step down. Saying nothing, I sat beside her, draping the bags over my knees. After a moment of hesitation, Jenks landed on my shoulder. Together we watched the ice cream truck trundle closer, its merry tune sounding especially irritating.

In an eyeball-hurting, shrill cloud, Jenks's kids flocked over to it, diving in and out of the man's windows until he stopped. He had been coming down here every day since the first of July to sell a two-dollar snow cone to a family of pixies.

Jenks's wings shifted my hair in the breeze as he lifted off. “Hey, Ivy,” he said confidently, “can you float me a couple of bucks?”

It was an old pattern by now, and, shoulders hunched, she got to her feet. Grumbling under her breath, she slipped into the church for her purse.

I knew I should be worried about the church and sleeping on blasphemed ground, but I was ticked about working for Trent for no reason—seeing as we couldn't resanctify the church. And on my birthday, too.

While Jenks yelled at his kids to decide on a flavor and get it over with, I dug my phone out of my bag and hit the speed dial. I had to call Kisten.

The sound of heavy plastic was soothing as I hung up my new outfit beside my two bridesmaid dresses on the back of my closet door. The black plastic with the Poison Heart logo looked garish next to the silk garment bags, and I touched their smoothness just to prove that someone had actually spent money on something so extravagant.

Shaking my head, I ripped the plastic off my new purchase, wadded it up, and tossed it into a corner, where it slowly unfurled, the sound of it clear in the silence that held the church. I had just come from the mall by way of the bus, and I was eager to show somebody what I'd bought for Trent's wedding rehearsal and dinner, but Ivy was out and Jenks was in the garden. The Poison Heart was an exclusive shop, and I had thoroughly enjoyed my afternoon of guilt-free shopping. I
needed
this outfit for my run. It was tax-deductible.

The night was humid. My chemise was sticking to me, and since our central-air funds had become our resanctify-the-grounds funds, it looked as if the most we'd be doing this year would be a window unit somewhere. All the windows were open, and the shush of an occasional passing car mixed comfortably with the sound of Jenks's kids playing june-bug croquet.

It was as bad as it sounded, and Ivy and I had spent a hilarious evening last week watching his kids divide into two teams and, by the light of the porch lamp, take turns whacking the hapless beetles to very fat
toads. The team whose toad hopped away first—stuffed to the gills—won.

My smile widened at the memory, and I brushed nonexistent lint from the snappy short black jacket, the beads sewn into it glinting in the overhead light. Smile fading, I looked the outfit over again—now that I was free of the clerk's enthusiasm. Maybe the beads were a little over the top, but they went well with the glitter on the stockings. And the shortness of the hip-hugger skirt was offset by its subdued black. It had come with a nice top that would show my midriff, and I had the jacket in case it got cold.

Shuffling in my closet, I pulled out a pair of flat sandals I could run in. Ellasbeth wouldn't be wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Why should I slum it to make her look good?

I dropped the sandals and stepped back in thought. Some jewelry would finish it nicely, but Ivy could help me with that.

“Hey, Jenks!” I shouted, knowing if he didn't hear me, his kids would go get him. “Come and see what I bought!”

Almost immediately there was a clatter of wings at my window. I had sewn up the pixy hole in the screen a few days previous, and I stifled my smile when Jenks ran into it.

“Hey!” he shouted, hovering with his hands on his hips and a soft glow of gold sifting from him. “What the hell is this?”

“A little privacy,” I said, fluffing the lace about the skirt's hem. “Use the door. That's what it's for.”

“You know what?” he snarled. “I oughta—Oh, for the love of Tink!”

I turned at his wonderstruck tone, but he was gone. In an instant he was in the hall, laughing as he drifted backward. “Is that it?” he said. “Is that the dress you bought to wear to Trent's wedding rehearsal and dinner? Damn, woman, you need some serious help.”

Following his gaze, I looked at my outfit. “What?” I said, warming. My nose tickled, and I muffled a sneeze, the heat and humidity starting to get to me.

Jenks was still laughing. “It's a dinner, Rache. Not a dance club!”

Worried, I touched the jacket's sleeve. “You think it's too much?” I asked, working hard to keep my tone noncombative. I'd had this conversation with ex-roommates before.

Jenks landed on the hanger. “Not if you're going to play the part of the town whore.”

“You know what?” I said, starting to get ticked. “Being sexy doesn't come naturally, and sometimes you have to go out on a limb.”

“Limb?” he choked. “Rache, if that's the way you dress for a wedding rehearsal, it's no wonder you spent high school fighting off bad boyfriends. Image, girl! It's all about image! Who do you want to be?”

I went to flick him away, and he darted to the ceiling, a trail of silver dust drifting down like a ribbon of thought he'd left behind. At the window a cluster of his kids were giggling. Flustered, I closed my curtains. Rex, drawn by the sound of Jenks's voice, padded in from who knew where, settling herself in my threshold with her tail curled about her feet and her eyes on Jenks. The pixy had landed on Nick's file, now shoved in among my perfume bottles, and I hoped the idiotic cat wouldn't jump up there after him. I felt a slow buildup of a tickle in my nose, and I scrambled for a tissue, startling Rex into skittering out to the hall when I sneezed.

Looking over my tissue, I watched Jenks's head go back and forth. “It's a nice outfit,” I protested. “And I didn't buy it for Trent, I bought it for my birthday date with Kisten.” I touched the beaded sleeve again, feeling melancholy. So I liked to dress up. So what? But maybe…maybe my image could use a little more class and a little less party girl.

Snorting, Jenks gave me a long, knowing look. “Sure you did, Rache.”

Bothered, I turned off the light and headed into the kitchen, scooping up the two bags of tomato stuff for Glenn that I had left in the hall. Still laughing, Jenks followed, landing on my shoulder in a show of apology.

“You know,” he said, and I could hear the smile on his face in his tone, “I think you should wear that dress to the rehearsal. It will cheese off that witch of a woman.”

“Sure,” I said, starting to get depressed. I'd wait until Ivy came home, then ask her. What did Jenks know? He was a pixy, for God's sake.

I elbowed the rocker switch as I entered the kitchen, all but tripping on Rex when she darted between my feet. The ungraceful motion turned into a sneeze. I felt it coming but didn't have time to warn Jenks. He was catapulted off, and, swearing, he went to the window.

“Sorry,” I said when he lit next to his sea monkeys. According to my
mother, it was bad luck to sneeze between rooms, but it was Jenks's questioning look that had me worried.

Wincing, I looked at Rex, her cute little kitten face turned up as she sat before the sink and gazed lovingly up at her four-inch master. Jenks followed my attention to her, and when I set the bags down to wipe my nose, his wings stilled in understanding. I had been sneezing off and on since yesterday.
Crap, there are charms for it, but I don't want to be allergic to cats.

“I'm not allergic to cats,” I said, wrapping one arm around my middle. “Rex has been here for the past two months, and this is the first time it's been a problem.”

“Okay,” he said softly, but his wings weren't moving when he turned his back on me to wrestle with the vial of sea-monkey food.

It was too quiet in here. I wanted to turn on some music, but the stereo was in the sanctuary, and to crank it loud enough to be able to enjoy it in the kitchen would bother the neighbors. Working up a really good pity party, I pulled out one of my newest spell books and set it thumping on the center island counter.
Sneezing,
I thought, hunched as I thumbed through the index. I wasn't allergic to cats. My dad had been, but I wasn't.

The only spell in the book that had to do with sneezing was one for cat allergies, and as I debated trying it, I felt a tickle start. Eyes watering, I held my breath. It didn't do any good. I sneezed, accidentally tearing the page.

“Damn it!” I swore, looking up to see that I had startled Jenks into the air. “I'm not allergic to cats! It's a summer cold. That's all.”

I felt the urge again. Exasperated, I closed my eyes and tried to stop it, making an ugly noise when I couldn't. I knew I had seen a spell for sneezing that didn't revolve around cats. Where the devil was it?

“Oh, yeah,” I said softly, crouching down to get my old ley line textbook out from between
The Big Cookie Cookbook
and my copy of
Real Witches Eat Quiche
.

“Rache?” Jenks said, coming to stand on the counter when I opened it up to the index.

“What?” I snapped.

“You need any help?”

I stopped what I was doing and looked to find him standing miserably
before me with his wings drooping. Rex was twining about my ankles, and if I thought it was anything other than misplaced affection, I would have been charmed. Slowly I exhaled. “I don't think so,” I said, flipping to page 49. “Ley line charms are pretty easy. I'm getting better at them, and if it does the trick, then we're all set.”

He nodded and flitted up to the ladle, his favorite spot in the kitchen, where he could see me, the door, and a good slice of the garden.

I quickly read over the instructions to grow more confident. I didn't particularly like ley line magic, having been classically trained in slower, but no less powerful, earth magic. Earth magic used potions and amulets, finding the energy to perform the spell in plants, who ultimately pulled it from the ley lines themselves. The energy was filtered and softened, making earth magic more forgiving and slower than ley line magic, but ultimately more far-reaching—the changes wrought with earth magic were generally real rather than illusion, as much of ley line magic was. I wouldn't just
look
shorter under the right earth charm, I would
be
shorter.

Ley line magic used incantation and ritual to pull the energy to change reality right off the line. It made this branch of magic faster and flashier, but there were ten times more black ley line witches than black earth witches. Apart from hitting someone with a hunk of ever-after to short out his or her neural network, changes were illusion and could be surmounted with willpower.

Before dying, my father had taken steps to direct me into earth magic. It was a decision I totally agreed with, but I had some skill in the ley line arts, and if it would stop me sneezing, where was the harm? And while going over the white charm before me, I decided the five-hundred-level spell was well within my grasp.

Pleased, I started to gather what I'd need. “White candle,” I murmured, briefly considering the pack of birthday candles in my shoulder bag that I'd picked up along with the lilac wine. But then I pulled out a nicked taper from my silverware drawer where I kept it. It was blessed, and that was all the better. “Dandelion?” I questioned, looking up at Jenks.

“Got it,” he said, cheerfully vaulting from the ladle and through the pixy hole in the kitchen window screen.

I had dried dandelions from last year, but I knew he'd appreciate the
chance to harvest something for me. He was back almost immediately with a dew-wet, closed flower, and after shooing his kids from the window, he set it next to the lopsided pentagram I had sketched on my mobile chalkboard. It was the size of a laptop and had a cover to protect a design in transit.

“Thanks,” I said, and he nodded, lifting briefly into the air to land on the textbook.

“You going to set a circle?” he asked, looking slightly nervous, and when I nodded, he added, “I'll…um, watch from the windowsill.”

Hiding my smile, I moved all my stuff to the other side of the island counter so I could both work and see him. “It's a medicinal spell,” I explained. “Why take chances?”

Jenks gave me a mild, “Ummm.” I knew he didn't like seeing me under the influence of a line. He said it was because there was a shadow on my aura that wasn't there the rest of the time. I didn't like it because my hair got staticky, moving in the wind that always seemed to be blowing in the ever-after.

My pulse quickened in anticipation, and I glanced at the clock. It was way before midnight—lots of time. You could work white magic after midnight, but why push your luck? Grabbing a handful of salt, I sprinkled it over the line etched in the linoleum.

Jenks's wings shifted fitfully when I stretched out my awareness to touch the small, underused ley line running through the graveyard out back. My breath came in fast, but by the time I had exhaled, the energy flow was balanced. A faint tingling in my fingertips and a heavy sensation in my middle told me my chi was full, and I didn't pull more off the line to spindle in my head. I wouldn't need more than this to work the spell.

Uncomfortable, I wiggled my shoulders as if trying to fit into a new skin. It used to be that it took several moments for the strength to equalize. Practice had shaved it to almost nothing. My hair was floating already. I tried to flatten it, and my skin prickled where my muscles flexed. If I cared to, I could open my second sight and actually see the ever-after superimposed on reality, but it gave me the creeps.

“Whoops,” I said, remembering I didn't have my candle lit yet, and went to the gas stove to get a burner going. Using a bamboo skewer, I lit the vanilla-scented candle I cleared the air with when I burned
something. I shook the stick out and carefully carried the candle to the center counter, where it flickered in the muggy breeze coming in the window.

A last look at the instructions to be sure I had everything at the counter, and I kicked off a sandal. “Where's your cat, Jenks?” I said, not wanting to trap her in with me.

He took to the air. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty…” he called, and with a chirping trill, her orange face appeared at the hall archway. She was licking her lips, but Jenks wasn't troubled.

“Rhombus,”
I said softly, touching my toe to the salt circle. The single word of Latin invoked a hard-won series of mental exercises that condensed the five-minute prep and invocation of setting a circle into an instant. I stifled a jerk as the circle closed with a snap. Jenks's wings whirled as a molecule-thin sheet of ever-after rose up between us to keep any influences out while I worked the medicinal-class ley line charm. I was impulsive, not stupid.

Rex padded in, rubbing against the barrier as if it were covered in catnip. I'd take that as a sign that she might want to be my familiar—if she didn't run every time I tried to pick her up.