Ким Харрисон - For a Few Demons More

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.

I grimaced at the ugly black sheen of demon smut crawling over my bubble, discoloring the usual cheerful gold of my aura. It was a visual display of the imbalance I carried on my soul, a reminder of the debt I owed for having twisted reality so far out of alignment that I could become a wolf and Jenks grew to human size. The discoloration was nothing compared to the thousand years of demon-curse imbalance that Ceri carried, but it bothered me.

All but the smallest amount of ever-after energy I had tapped had gone into maintaining the circle, but there was the tingle of a new buildup of force filtering in. It would continue to grow until I let go of the line completely. Many witches were said to have gone insane from trying to stretch what their chi could hold by allowing the pressure to build beyond what they could safely contain, but when my chi overflowed, I could spindle the line energy in my head. Demons could do the same, and their familiars. Ceri and I were the only two people this side of the lines who could spindle line energy. That we had survived Al with the knowledge intact hadn't been the demon's intent. Ceri had taught me the basics, but Al was the one who'd stretched my tolerances and made the skill second nature—by way of an excruciating amount of pain.

"Ah, Rachel?" Jenks said, green-tinted sparkles slipping from him to pool in the sink. "It's worse than usual."

My good mood vanished, and I frowned at the demon smut. "Yeah, well, I'm trying to get rid of it," I muttered, then pulled my sketched pentagram forward.

Taking up a stone crucible I had bought at a ley line shop up in Mackinaw, I set it in the lowest space between the bottom of the pentagram and the circle surrounding it. Fingers still touching it, I murmured, " Adaequo ," to set it in place and give its presence meaning.

I felt a small surge from the line and twitched. Oh, it was one of those spells. Great.

My nose tickled. I stiffened, realizing I hadn't brought any tissue in with me. "Oh, no," I said, my voice rising. Jenks looked panicked, and I sneezed. He was laughing when I brought my head up. Looking frantically for something to wipe my nose with, I settled on a scratchy paper towel, managing to tear off twice what I needed and getting it to my face just in time for the follow-up sneeze. Crap, I had to finish this spell fast.