Ким Харрисон - Every Witch Way But Dead

Ceri's smile blossomed. "I'll walk you through it. Give me a moment; I have to remember how to do it the long way," she said, extending her hand for my mug.

Oh, gotta slow to the witch's pace, I thought, leaning forward and handing it to her. But seeing as it was most likely the charm she used three times a day to cook Al's meals, she could probably do it in her sleep.

"It's sympathetic magic," she explained. "There's a poem to help remember the gestures, but the only two words you have to say are Latin. And it needs a focal object to direct the magic where to go," she explained, and took a sip of my cold coffee, making a face. "This is swill," she muttered, her words awkward as she spoke around the drop on her tongue. "Barbaric."

"It's better when it's hot," I protested, not having known you could hold a focal object in your mouth and still have it be effective. She could do the spell without it, but then she would have to throw the spell at my cup. This was easier, and less likely to spill my coffee, too.

Her face still showing her distaste, she raised her thin, expressive hands. "From candles burn and planet's spin," she said, and I moved my fingers, mimicking her gesture—I suppose if you used your imagination, it kind of looked like lighting a candle, though how her suddenly dropping hand related to spinning planets was beyond me. "Friction is how it ends and begins."

I jumped when she brought her hands together to make a loud pop, simultaneously saying, "Consimilis."

Similar, I thought, thinking it might be a catch phrase for sympathetic magic. And the pop might be an audible show of air molecules undergoing friction. In sympathetic magic, it didn't matter how nebulous the relationship was as long as it was real.

"Cold to hot, harness within," she continued, making another unfamiliar gesture, but I recognized the next finger movement from when I used a ley line charm to break the Howlers' bat in practice. Perhaps it was the motion that tapped into the focal object for direction. Huh. Maybe there was some sense to this ley line stuff after all.

"Calefacio!" she said happily, invoking the charm and setting it all into motion.

I felt a mild drop through me as the charm pulled energy from the line to excite the water molecules in the cup, warming the coffee. "Wow," I breathed when she handed me back my mug, softly steaming. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," she said. "You have to regulate the ending temperature yourself by how much line energy you put into it."

"The more energy, the hotter it gets?" I took a careful sip, deciding it was perfect. It must have taken her years to gain this much proficiency.

"Depending on the amount you have to warm up," Ceri whispered, her eyes distant in memory. "So be careful with your bathwater until you know what you're doing." Visibly pulling herself back to the present, she turned to me. "Are you settled now?"

Adrenaline zinged through me, and I set my warm coffee down. I can do this. If Ceri can warm her tea and spindle line energy in her head, then so can I.

"Fill your center," she encouraged. "Then pull some from it as if you're going to work a spell as you say your invocation word."

I tucked a curl behind my ear and settled myself. Exhaling, I closed my eyes and I tapped the line, feeling the pressures equalize in an instant. Setting my mind to the poised calmness I cultivated when I said a ley line charm, a curious, new sensation tingled through me. A tinge of energy flowed in from the line, replacing what I had unconsciously pulled from my chi. Tulpa, I thought, hope bringing me tight.

My eyes flew open as a wash of force flowed in from the line to replace what had darted from my chi to my head. In a torrent, the line raced through me and settled in my thoughts. My enclosure expanded to take it in. Shocked, I did nothing to stop it.

"Enough!" Ceri cried, rising to her knees. "Rachel, let go of the line!"

I jerked, pulling my focus from the ley line. There was a brief swish of warmth through me as a dribble of force back-washed from my thoughts to my chi, topping it off. Breath held, I froze in my chair, staring at her. I was afraid to move, there was so much energy in my head.

"Are you all right?" she said, not settling back down, and I nodded.

From the kitchen came a faint, "You okay in there?"

"We're fine!" I carefully shouted back, then looked at Ceri. "We're fine, right?"

Green eyes wide, she bobbed her head, not dropping my gaze for an instant. "You're holding a lot of energy outside your center," she said. "But I've noticed your chi doesn't hold as much as mine. I think…" She hesitated. "I think an elf's chi can hold more than a witch's, but witches seem to be able to hold more in their thoughts."

I could taste the energy in me, tinfoil-like on my tongue. "Witches make better batteries, huh?" I quipped weakly.

She laughed, her clear voice going up to the dusky rafters. I wished there were pixies up there to dance amid the sound. "Maybe that's why witches abandoned the ever-after sooner than elves," she said. "Demons seem to prefer witches over elves or humans for their familiars. I thought it was because there were so few of us, but maybe not."

"Maybe," I said, wondering how long I could hold all this force without spilling it. My nose tickled. I desperately didn't want to sneeze.

Ivy's boots in the hallway intruded, and we both turned as she strode toward us with her purse over her shoulder and a plate of cookies in her hand. "I'm headed out," she said lightly, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Want me to walk you home, Ceri?"

Immediately Ceri stood. "That's not necessary."

Ire flickered in Ivy's eyes. "I know it's not necessary."

Ivy's plate of steaming cookies hit the desktop before me in a harsh clatter. My eyebrows rose, and I swung my feet to the floor. Ivy wanted to talk to Ceri alone—about me. Bothered, I tapped my fingernails in a sharp staccato. "I'm not eating those," I said flatly.

"It's medicinal, Rachel," she said, her voice heavy with threat.

"It's Brimstone, Ivy," I shot back. Ceri shifted from foot to foot in obvious discomfort, but I didn't care. "I can't believe you gave me Brimstone," I added. "I arrest people who do Brimstone; I don't share rent with them." I was not going to tag Ivy. I didn't care if she broke every law in the I.S. handbook. Not this time.

Ivy's stance went aggressive, her hip cocked and her lips almost bloodless. "It's medicinal," she said sharply. "It's specially processed and the amount of stimulant in it is so low you can't even smell it. You can't smell Brimstone, can you? Can you?"

The ring of brown about her pupils had shrunk, and I dropped my gaze, not wanting to trip her into pulling an aura. Not now, with the sun almost down. "There was enough in it to jerk the bane into play," I said sullenly.

Ivy, too, calmed, knowing she had reached her limits. "That wasn't my fault," she said softly. "I never gave you enough to even trigger a Brimstone dog."

Ceri raised her narrow chin. There was no remorse in her green eyes. "I apologized for that," she said tightly. "I didn't know it was illegal. It wasn't the last time I gave it to someone."

"See?" Ivy said, gesturing to Ceri. "She didn't know, and that insurance guy was only trying to help. Now shut up, eat your cookies, and stop making us feel bad. You've got a run tomorrow and you need your strength."

Leaning back in my swivel chair, I pushed the plate of vamp cookies away. I wasn't going to eat them. I didn't care that what I had kept down yesterday had upped my metabolism so my black eye was already turning yellow and my cut lip was healed. "I'm fine."

Ivy's usually placid face clouded over. "Fine," she said sharply.

"Fine," I shot back, crossing my legs and turning so I was eyeing her askance.