Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

Hoping Newt would forget about me, I inched myself forward, trying to ignore the pain in my ankle. I slipped, sucking in my breath as the flat of my arm hit a rock, sending a shiver of pain up it. The boulder was right in front of me, and gathering myself, I wedged my knees under me. My ankle was burning agony as I gained my feet and held the rock for balance.

There was a brush of air, and Newt was beside me. "Do you want to live forever?"

The question sent a shiver through me. Damn it, Newt was becoming more interested, not less. "No," I whispered. Hand outstretched, I limped from the rock.

"I didn't either, until I tried it." The redwood staff clunked to the ground as Newt moved to keep even with me, black eyes eerily more alive than anyone else's I'd ever seen. My skin crawled. Something was wrong with Newt—really wrong. I couldn't put my finger on it until I realized that the minute I took my attention from Newt, I forgot what the demon looked like. Apart from those eyes.

"I know something Algaliarept doesn't," Newt said. "I remember now. You like secrets. You're good at keeping them, too. I know all about you; you're afraid of yourself."

I gritted my jaw as my ankle gave a twinge as I slipped on a rock. The line was just ahead. I could feel it. The sun had sunk below the horizon, halfway gone. It took seven minutes to sink once it touched the earth. Three and a half minutes. I could hear a gathering of breath from the lesser demons. God, help me find a way out of this.

"You should be afraid of you," Newt said. "Want to know why?"

I pulled my head up. Newt was bored out of his or her mind and looking for amusement. I didn't want to be interesting. "No," I whispered, becoming more frightened.

An evil smile crossed Newt, emotions shifting faster than a vampire hyped up on Brimstone. "I think I will tell Algaliarept a joke. And when he's done ripping that witch apart for what he lost, I'll trade for that mark you owe him and make it mine."

I started to shake, unable to stop my hands from trembling. "You can't do that."

"I can. I might." Newt twirled the staff idly, hitting a rock so it ricocheted into the dark. There was a catlike yelp of pain and a scattering of sliding rock. "And then I'll have two," the demon said to itself, "because you won't be able to figure out how to travel the lines and will have to buy a trip out of here. From me."

There was a cry of outrage from the watchers behind the rocks, quickly squelched.

Horrified, I came to a jerky stop, feeling the line right ahead of me.

"You want to survive," Newt intoned, its voice dropping in pitch. "You'll do anything for it. Anything."

"No," I whispered, terrified because Newt was right. "I saw Lee do it. I can do it too."

Black eyes glinting, Newt set the butt of its staff down. "You won't figure it out. You won't believe; not yet. You have to make a deal…with me."

Frightened, I wavered on my feet, and with the next step, I stumbled into the line, feeling as if it was a stream, warm and generous, filling me up. Almost panting, I teetered, seeing the eyes around me narrow with greed and anger. I hurt. I had to get out of there. The power of the line hummed through me, peaceful and comforting. There's no place like home.

Newt's expression went mocking, its pupil-black eyes spiteful. "You can't do it."

"I can," I said, my vision darkening as I almost passed out. From the deepest shadows glittered green eyes. Close. Very close. The power of the line hummed through me. There's no place like home, there's no place like home, there's no place like home, I thought desperately, pulling energy into me, spindling it in my head. I had traveled the lines with Lee. I had seen how he had done it. All it took was him thinking about where he wanted to be. I wanted to be home. Why wasn't it working?

My knees shook as the first dark shape came out to stand with an unreal thinness, slow and hesitant. Newt looked at it, then turned slowly to me, one eyebrow raised. "One favor, and I'll send you back."

Oh God. Not another one. "Leave me alone!" I shouted, the rough edges of a rock scraping my fingers as I flung it at an approaching form and almost fell over. A gasp sounding like a sob came from me as I caught my balance. The lesser demon ducked, then straightened. Three more pairs of eyes glowed behind it.

I jumped as Newt suddenly was before me. The light was gone. Black eyes slammed into me, delving into my soul and clenching until fear squeezed out to bubble up. "You can't do it. No time to learn," Newt said, and I shuddered. Here was power, raw and swirling. Newt's soul was so black it was almost unseen. I could feel its aura press against me, starting to slip into mine with the force of Newt's will. It could take me over if it wanted. I was nothing. My will was nothing.

"Owe me or die in this squalid pile of broken promises," Newt said. "But I can't send you through the lines with a thin tie called home. Home won't do it. Think on Ivy. You love her more than that damn church," it said, its honesty more cutting than any physical pain.

Crying out in angry, high voices, the shadows bunched and lunged.

"Ivy!" I shouted, accepting the bargain and willing myself to her: the smell of her sweat when we sparred, the taste of her Brimstone cookies, the sound of her steps, and the rise of her eyebrows when she was trying not to laugh.

I recoiled as Newt's black presence was suddenly in my head. How many mistakes can one life survive? echoed crystallinelike in my mind, but whose thought it was I didn't know.

Newt pressed the air from my lungs, and my mind shattered. I was everywhere and nowhere. The perfect disconnection of the line raced through me, making me exist in every line on the continent. Ivy! I thought again, starting to panic until I remembered her, fastening on her indomitable will and the tragedy of her desires. Ivy. I want to go to Ivy.

With a savage, jealous thought, Newt snapped my soul back together. Gasping, I covered my ears as a loud pop shook me. I fell forward, my elbows and knees smacking into gray tile. People screamed, and I heard the crash of metal. Papers flew, and someone shouted to call the I.S.

"Rachel!" Ivy cried.

I looked up past my falling hair to see I was in what looked like a hospital hallway. Ivy was sitting in an orange plastic chair, her eyes red and her cheeks blotchy, shock in her wide brown eyes. David was beside her, dirty and disheveled, Kisten's blood on his hands and chest. A phone rang and went unanswered.

"Hi," I said weakly, my arms starting to tremble. "Uh, could one of you maybe check me in? I don't feel so good."

Ivy stood, reaching out. I tipped forward. My cheek hit the tile. The last thing I remember was my hand touching hers.

"Coming!" I called out, my pace quickening as I strode through the dusky sanctuary to the door, my snow boots thumping to leave small inverse divots of snow behind. The huge dinner bell that was our doorbell clanked again, and I picked up the pace. "I'm coming. Don't ring the bell again or the neighbors will call the I.S., for God's sake."

The reverberations were still echoing when I reached for the handle, the nylon of my coat making a sliding sound. My nose was cold and my fingers were frozen, the warmth of the church not having had enough time to warm them up. "David!" I exclaimed, opening the door to find him on the softly lit stoop.

"Hi, Rachel," he said, looking comfortably attractive with his glasses, long coat, thick stubble, and his cowboy hat dusted with snow. The bottle of wine in his hand helped. An older man stood beside him in a leather jacket and jeans. He was taller than David, and I eyed his lightly wrinkled but trim physique in question. A wisp of snow-white hair peeped from under his hat. There was a twig in his grip, unquestionably a symbolic offering for the solstice bonfire out back, and I realized he was a witch. David's old partner? I thought. A limo idled softly behind them, but I was guessing they had come in the blue four-door parked in front of it.