Ким Харрисон: For a Few Demons More

"It was here!" the demon shouted, and I jumped, stifling a gasp. Ceri's breath caught audibly as Newt turned, her black eyes full of malevolence. "I don't like this," Newt accused. "It hurts. It shouldn't hurt."

"You shouldn't be here," I said, feeling airy and unreal, as if I were balancing on a knife's edge. "You should go home."

"I don't remember where home is," Newt said. Vehement anger colored her soft voice.

Ceri tugged at me. "It's ready," she whispered. "Call him."

I pulled my eyes from Newt as the demon began to circle again, dropping my attention to the ugly, elaborate, twin-ringed pentagram drawn with Ceri's blood. "You think calling one demon to take care of another is a good idea?" I whispered, and Newt's pace quickened.

"He's the only one who can reason with her," she said, panicked and desperate. "Please, Rachel. I'd do it, but I can't. It's demon magic."

I shook my head. "Her familiar? Would you have helped Al?"

While Newt chuckled over my nickname for Algaliarept, her demon captor, Ceri's chin trembled. "Newt is insane," she whispered.

"You think?" I snapped, jumping when Newt slammed a side kick into the barrier, her robes swirling dramatically. Great, she knew martial arts on top of everything else. Why not? She'd obviously been around a while.

"That's why she has a demon for a familiar," Ceri said, eyes flicking nervously. "They had a contest. The loser became her familiar. He's more of a caretaker, and he's probably looking for her. They don't like it when she slips his watch."

The lights in my head started to go on, and my mouth dropped open. Seeing my understanding, Ceri tugged me down to her pentagram drawn in blood. Grabbing my wrist, she tuned it palm side up and aimed for my finger with her knife. "Hey!" I shouted, snatching my hand back.

Ceri looked at me, her lips pressed together. She was getting bitchy. That was good. It meant she thought she—we—might live through this. "Do you have a finger stick?" she snapped.

"No."

"Then let me cut your finger."

"You're already bleeding," I said. "Use your blood."

"Mine won't work," she said from between gritted teeth. "It's demon magic, and—"

"Yeah, I got it," I interrupted. Her blood didn't have the right enzymes, and thanks to some illegal genetic tinkering to save my life, I had survived being born possessing them.

The humming presence of the circle above us seemed to hesitate, and Newt made a sound of success. Ceri shuddered as she lost control of the middle circle, and Newt took it down. One thin, fragile circle left. I held out my hand—consumed with fear. Ceri's eyes met mine, stress making her angular features beautiful. I only looked ugly when I got scared. Newt's hand hovered over the last circle, smiling evilly as she muttered Latin. It had become a race.

Ceri made a quick swipe at my finger, and I jerked against the sting, watching a bead of red swell. "What do I do?" I asked, not liking this at all.

Blue eyes dropping, she turned my hand palm down and set it in the circle. The old oak seemed to vibrate, as if its stored life force were running through me, connecting me to the spinning of the earth and the burning of the sun. "It's a public curse," she said, her words falling over themselves. "The invocation phrase is mater tintinnabulum . Say it and Minias's name in your thoughts, and the curse will put you through."

"Don't summon Minias," Newt threatened, and I felt Ceri's control over the last circle swell while the demon was distracted. "He'll kill you faster than I will."

"You aren't summoning him, you're asking for his attention," Ceri said desperately. "The imbalance would normally go to you, but you can bargain with Newt's location and he'll take it. If he doesn't, I will."

It was a huge concession from the smut-covered elf. This was looking better and better, but the sun wasn't up yet, and Newt looked ready to tear us apart. I didn't think Ceri could hold her concentration much longer against a master demon. And I had to believe that the demons possessed a way to control this member of their species: otherwise they'd be dead already. If his name was Minias and he masqueraded as her familiar, then that's the way it was.

"Hurry," Ceri whispered, sweat tracking her face. "You'll probably show up as an unregistered user, but unless she's cursed him again, he's likely looking for her and will answer."

Unregistered? I wondered. Licking my lips, I closed my eyes. I was already connected to the line, so all that was left was invoking the curse and thinking his name. Mater tintinnabulum, Minias , I thought, not expecting anything to happen.

My breath came in a quick heave, and I felt Ceri's hand clamp on my wrist, forcing my own to stay in the circle. A jolt of ever-after spun from me, colored with my aura. I felt it leave me like a winging bird, and I struggled to hold myself together as I saw it flee in my imagination, taking a portion of me with it.

"I won't let him steal it from me!" Newt shouted. "It's mine! I want it back!"

"Concentrate," Ceri whispered, and I fell into myself, feeling that freed slice of me ring like a bell through the entirety of the ever-after. And like a ringing bell, it was answered.

I'm a little busy , came an irritated thought. Leave a message on the damned landline and I'll get back to you .

I shuddered at the sensation of thoughts not my own curling through my mind, but Ceri kept my hand unmoving. Within Minias was a background clutter of worry, guilt, aggravation. But he had dismissed me like a telemarketer and was ready to snap the connection.

Newt , I thought. Take the imbalance for my calling you, and I'll tell you where she is. And promise you won't hurt us , I added. Or let her hurt us. And get her the hell out of my church !

"Hurry!" Ceri cried, and my concentration bobbled.

Done , the voice thought decisively. Minias's worry sharpened to a point and joined mine. Where are you ?

My brief elation vanished. Uh , I thought, wondering how you give directions to a demon, but Minias's own thoughts faltered in confusion.

What the devil is she doing past the lines? It's almost sunup.

She's trying to kill me ! I thought. Get your ass over here and collect her !

You aren't registered. How am I supposed to know where you are? I'll have to…

I stiffened, jerking my hand out of the circle and Ceri's grip when the voice's presence squeezed my thoughts harder. Gasping, I fell backward onto my butt, my body mirroring my attempt to jerk away from Minias's presence.

"… come through on your thoughts," a darkly mellow voice said.

"Heavenly Father, save us," Ceri gasped.

My head spun, and I caught a glimpse of Ceri falling backward. She hit her circle, and panic iced through me when it broke in a flash of black.

Oh, God. We're dead.

She met my gaze as she sprawled half upright up on the floor, her eyes saying she thought she had killed us. Newt cried out, and I spun where I was sitting, only to freeze in shock.

Nothing stood between Newt and us now but a man, his purple robes reflecting hers in all but color. He was barefoot, and only now did I remember the flash of those robes coming between me and Ceri as he shoved the elf into the bubble to break it so he could get to Newt.

"Let me go, Minias," Newt snarled, and my eyes widened at his thick-knuckled hand gripping her upper arm. "She has something of mine. I want it back."

"What has she got of yours?" he asked calmly, his back to me. Newt was a head shorter than Minias, and it made her look vulnerable despite the scathing vehemence in her voice. His voice carried the intent sound of a more-than-casual question, and my eyes dropped to the grip he had on her staff, right above her hand. It never eased up, not even as his honey-amber voice spilled into the violated sanctuary like a balm. Soothing yes, but holding tension, too.