Ann Aguirre - Shady Lady

“That’s not a cake-or-death choice,” Shan said softly. “It’s more of a disembowelment-or-death choice.”

Was I prepared to dwell in darkness in exchange for my life? Yet the alternative was worse—fall now and spend my afterlife in the demon realm. A bad choice and worse coming: At this point, that seemed like a too-familiar tune. Maybe this choice didn’t mean I was damned; perhaps I could do enough good, somehow, to make it up, no matter what other practitioners thought of me. Really, there was only one call; otherwise Shannon must watch me die. I couldn’t do that to her. Couldn’t.

“Before I give my answer, can I ask a question?” It was best to make sure of such things, though I knew the outcome was inevitable.

“Indeed,” Maury said. “But let that be the only one, lest I accuse you of, as you put it, stalling.”

“Recently I ran into a Knight of Hell.” Out of respect for the demon I’d bested, I didn’t name him. No telling what Maury could do with such information. “He’d been summoned by a sorcerer, but not in spirit. He crossed over fully . Is that what you want me to do for your mate?”

I read real surprise in the old woman’s face. “Truly, a corporeal manifestation? It takes an incredible amount of energy to create such a gate.”

“I figured.” Binding and banishing were different because when you returned a summoned creature to its natural place, the universe wanted to help restore order. Pulling things where they didn’t belong—that took juice.

“No, of course that’s not what I require. I merely want her here, as I am. It will be great fun for us to find a couple of hosts and . . . play for a while.”

I shuddered to envision what Maury considered “play.” “Like a vacation.”

“Precisely.”

“If I consent to this, we’re square. No more favors. No more debt.” A glorious new life, down a very dark road. I suspected I couldn’t see how bad it would get from here, and that was probably best.

“Agreed.”

I couldn’t help but haggle, though he held all the cards. It was the pawnshop owner in me. “I’ll do it under one condition.”

“You’re hardly in a bargaining position, but I’m willing to listen.”

“You promise not to take unwilling hosts. Find a couple of coma victims or something. Stage a miraculous recovery and go about your business.”

Whatever that might be. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“Done. Such hosts are typically easier to control anyway. Most of them have no brain function to interfere with my driving.”

Gross.

“Will she remember what we’ve talked about?” I nodded at the old lady. Her skin had turned a sickly shade, as if his presence made her queasy.

“No. They never do.”

“Good.” Before I could change my mind, I recited the address where we could be found. “Find a proper body and then come to us tonight. I’ll need some time to study my grimoires. I want to make sure I do this right.”

Because I’m sure as hell not doing it again, no matter what other witches think. One scar doesn’t mean I’m evil. It doesn’t.

“Until tonight, my darling child.”

The old woman slumped to the counter, and it took a couple of minutes for her to rouse. We stuck around to make sure Maury hadn’t cooked her brain. Other than being groggy, the witch didn’t seem to have taken permanent harm.

“Are we finished here?” she asked in bewilderment. “I seem to have lost track of time.”

“Yeah, we paid up. But we’re still waiting for you to get that starter pack of herbs you mentioned.”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’ ll be right back.”

She gave me a pretty wooden box with ten compartments inside. Each one held a different herb, wrapped in fabric. I didn’t know what any of this stuff did, but my mother could tell me, through the grimoires. I waved as we went past the curtain and out the front door.

Shannon broke the silence halfway to the SUV. “What didn’t you tell me about what happened in those woods?”

Remembered pain rendered my words staccato, choppy. “Cooper killed me. Or the wound would have. The demon plugged the hole.” Knowing it sounded incredible, I took her hand and pressed it to my side. Since I was thinner, the metal felt more obvious, a hard spot where the blade went in.

“I can feel it. That used to be a knife?”

I nodded, leading the way to the SUV. My gaze cut back and forth and over our shoulders. Nobody seemed to be paying us any particular attention, but I wouldn’t feel safe until I had Shannon behind locked doors again.

“I have a murderer’s weapon inside me,” I said, hearing the despair in my voice. “It’s no wonder I can give such orders. I’m afraid of what I’m becoming.”

That was the first time I’d articulated the fear aloud: that I was filthy and demon touched. I had allowed whispers and doubts along the way, as I went farther and farther from the light. God, the one in the village had called me its queen. Maybe I was wretched and damned, and it would be better if Montoya exterminated me. I increased the pace, trying to escape the doubt. In no time at all, we reached the Forester.

Shannon touched me on the arm. “I may not know much, but it seems like if you’re worried about it, then you’re okay. Evil people don’t question right or wrong. They just do what they want.”

I sighed as I got behind the wheel. “That helps a little. Or it might , if we weren’t heading off to summon a demon.”

“Cool,” she said. “I’ll wear my new necklace.”

Despite myself, I laughed. God help me if I ever lost Shan.

On the way back, I took a circuitous route and made a number of unnecessary turns. Shannon watched but she didn’t see anybody tailing us. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I didn’t intend to let Montoya find me before I was good and ready.

Once locked behind all the dead bolts, I skipped ahead in the grimoire. I paged all the way through the red one and realized the spell I needed must be in the blue one. I located the summoning ritual about midway in. In fact, I was surprised my mother had such incantations in her books. I couldn’t imagine when summoning a demon could be considered white magic, and she’d told me more than once she only practiced beneficial craft.

Around noon, I made a call. I had Morales’s number handy, since he’d dialed my cell. “Before you guys report in, I need some things. Got a pen?” I read him the list. “Send the bill to Escobar.”

Strictly speaking this didn’t relate to our shared persecution of Montoya, but if I wanted to stay alive, which was part of the deal, I required these items. He wouldn’t even notice the expenditure. If he did, I’d account for it somehow.

“ Sí, jefa. We’ll be there later.”

“No sooner than dusk. Your work is best done in the dark.”

“I might have that slogan tattooed on me somewhere.”

“The ladies might think you mean you’re too ugly for daytime sex.”

“ Nunca. They got eyes, don’t they?” With a little chuckle, he disconnected.

For most of the day, I practiced drawing pentangles. Most witches grew up with such coursework as a part of their normal school curriculum. With any luck, this crash course would suffice. I wished I could take baby steps; I wasn’t prepared to jump from a mild call me spell to a major summoning, but in my case it was do or die.

“Ready or not, here I come,” I muttered.

Shannon glanced up from the laptop. It amused me that she could read Web comics at a time like this. She was also IMing somebody. When I went over, I saw she’d been talking to Booke.