Ann Aguirre - Shady Lady

The store offered a few rugs and fans, enough to satisfy a cursory glance, but I glimpsed a back room, where the real merchandise must be kept. A grandmotherly woman stepped out through a wispy lace curtain, clad in black. She stood just under five feet tall, willow slim, with a surprisingly unlined complexion.

“Since you’re still here,” she said, “I must conclude you ought to be. Come along.”

I followed her into the back room, a wonderland of fantastic items. Shannon split off to poke around on her own. A rack on the far wall held hand-carved wands in cherry, rowan, willow, and oak. I passed those by in favor of the daggers displayed in a glass case. Some had curvy blades, others serrated edges. Some were silver, edged in black leather, and graven with arachnids and runes, while others carried pictures of serpents or dragons. They all possessed different glyphs.

“Your first?” the old woman asked.

I nodded, still studying the collection. Intuition told me I needed to touch them all to learn which one was destined for me; at least, my foretelling gift should still function even with me as the prospective buyer. I’d never tried to use it this way before. But I didn’t look forward to the pain.

Maybe I could start with the ones that spoke to me aesthetically. “Would you get those three out for me to look at?” I indicated the spider knife, the dragon one, and the one with the serpent coiled around the bone handle.

“Excellent choices.” She told me a little about them, but I didn’t need the histories. I’d see it all soon enough.

I curled my hand around the first knife, accepting the pain as price of knowledge. It had never been used; a smith in Ireland had crafted it. It told me nothing about its prospective buyer, which I took to mean nobody would be coming for it anytime soon. Including me. With some regret, as I liked it best, I put it back down.

“An untaught witch with the touch,” she said with a raised brow. “Oh, but you are a rare one.”

“Apparently.” I took up the dragon blade. It felt unbalanced in my hand because of the jagged edge, and it burned like a low fire with old magic.

Closing my eyes, I read this one too. The pain lanced all the way up to my elbow as I saw a young woman casting the same spell over and over again: a would-be love charm. My mother had warned me that there was nothing so desperate or so hopeless. If it succeeded, the spell twisted the target and filled him with mindless obsession, not love. Never love. True love could not be compelled.

Panting with the pain, I let the knife go. Not this one either.

That left the serpent athame with the bone handle and the wavy blade. Mustering my nerve, I curled my branded palm around it, sealing the flower pentacle against the runes. A burst of lightning ran through me, as if a series of doors on a shared timer had all opened at once. In a bizarre reflection, I saw myself handing over the money for this one, and the old woman smiling.

“This is it. I’ll leave it here while I finish shopping.”

“Take your time, my dear.” Her tone gave me the creeps, and I remembered what Jesse had said, so long ago: Be careful when you meet a gifted person you encountered online. Ability doesn’t make them trustworthy.

If I didn’t need this stuff, I’d throw the money at her and make a run for it. But as long as I watched her, she couldn’t call anyone. So I kept one eye on her when I went to look at the chalices. This was less important than the athame, at least according to my mother. A chalice was merely a vessel, whereas the athame functioned as an extension of your will. I grabbed a simple silver one and then went to the counter to pay.

“Since it’s your first time, I’ll throw in a starter pack of herbs for you, the good ones. I know you’ll be back once you see how well they work.”

“Great, thanks.”

Shannon put an amulet on the glass case, a leather cord with a silver pentacle, but unlike most Goth accessories, the item bore the unmistakable stamp of real magick. “What does this do?”

“Oh, that’s a nice one. I made it myself, a simple protective charm. The world is a dangerous place.” Was I going crazy, or did her words contain a warning?

“We’ll take that too,” I said.

Despite the fact that she freaked me out, her prices seemed reasonable, so I didn’t try to haggle. We didn’t have time anyhow. It worried me to be out in the open like this, no backup, but I could hardly deal with Vicente if I didn’t try to wrangle my mother’s power—mine now, I supposed—into submission.

She bagged up the athame and chalice, a weird smile playing on her lips. Her gray eyes turned an awful citrine not normally found in human irises. “Run along now, darling child.”

The endearment froze me in place. “. . . Maury?”

That wasn’t his true name, of course. If I knew it, I could bind him. He’d been careful to prevent that, even before I earned the honorific Binder . Since he wasn’t physically present in this realm, like Caim had been, I couldn’t touch him and learn his name, either. So I had to deal.

“Not at first,” the demon said. “But this old she-witch has had far too much truck with the netherworld over the years. There’s practically a swinging door in her head.”

His appearance could mean only one thing, and it wasn’t good. “You’re calling payment due.”

“You owe me a favor.”

“What do you want?” Hell, I needed another chain saw to juggle.

“Is this the thing from Kilmer?” Shannon asked. “What did you do? Did you make a deal with it?”

Aw, crap. Well, no. Not intentionally. That technicality wasn’t going to make her like my answer any better. I motioned her to silence, because I didn’t want Maury paying attention to her.

“Nothing too difficult,” said the demon dressed in oldwoman skin.

“I’m listening.” I found it hard to imagine what I could do that it couldn’t. Of course, the human mind balked at certain boundaries.

“You will sacrifice your firstborn child to me.”

Shannon’s breath came and went in a shaky hiss. She put a hand on my arm, as if imploring me not to agree. Jesus, her opinion of me had really gone down the shitter in the past few days.

“Relax,” I said. “He’s fucking with me. Aren’t you, Maury?”

“Alas, you know me too well already. But look on the bright side—whatever I do ask for won’t seem so bad by comparison, will it?”

“You’re stalling.”

“I had almost forgotten how tiresome you can be.”

“I’m a real demon downer, all right. Spill it or I consider this conversation repayment in full, because you’re wasting my time.”

“Very well, no more games. Which is a great pity because I love them so. You, Corine Solomon, will summon my mate for me.”

I said, “You’ll have to give me his or her true name.”

“I am aware of how it works,” he said dryly. “You will, of course, pledge on your mother’s immortal soul that you will never use it to my bind my love to your will.”

Since I wasn’t sure anything of my mother had survived to see the afterlife, I didn’t consider that a powerful vow. Best not to tell the demon.

“And if I refuse?”

“I consider our bargain broken and you will die.”

Kel could not have foreseen this. He wouldn’t have left me to face this if he’d known it was coming. In a horrible way, that knowledge gladdened me. He had no dominion over the dark spaces, whereas I lived there. Shit. I didn’t want to do this, but I could, if Maury told me the particulars. If I did this, everything would change. From tales told at my mother’s knee, I understood that no white witch would help a dark practitioner; therefore I could find only training in the dark arts henceforth. And this act would leave a scar in the astral, so anyone who viewed me there would know I summoned demons.