Cat Adams - Demon Song

Creede was drawing symbols between two circles of chalk … on my polished wooden floor.

“Aw, man. You’d better clean that off when we’re done. It’ll ruin the wax.”

He looked up at me with bemusement before looking down again to complete the last symbol. “You’ll thank me later when you’re cleaning up only a few pieces of shattered glassware in your hutch instead of all of them.”

Touché.

Bruno held me back for a moment while he studied the circle. “You laid down two identification spells. What else are we looking for?”

Creede shrugged. “The spell might be on the shell or it might be on Celia. No sense doing a second circle to find out.”

Bruno grunted and nodded. Then he positioned me in the middle of the circle. His brow furrowed and he knelt down to add another precise, complex symbol in a very different handwriting than Creede’s smooth, flowing loops. Creede noticed and crossed arms over his chest with raised brows. “Interesting. Hadn’t considered a trip wire to pull away the horn if it goes south. Good thinking.”

“Unique circumstance,” was Bruno’s reply, but I could tell he was pleased. The sad part was they could probably be really close friends … if not for me. He touched my leg to get my attention and then stood. “Okay, here’s the plan. Put the horn to your lips and take a breath. But don’t blow until we have the circle up.”

“Why not put the circle up first?”

Creede answered, “There’s a chance that whatever the spell is will have safeguards that prevent it from being identified. Neither of us could find any overt spell or residual magic in the shell. So it must be in the sounding. I felt … something when you blew it. Something that wasn’t there before.”

Bruno nodded. “So did I. But with a circle around you, you might be unable to lift the horn or take a breath. You shouldn’t be prevented from releasing a breath, but if you are, raise your hand or stomp a foot or something and we’ll pull the whole works down.”

“Gee, you guys are making this sound like so much fun.” I looked down at the circle, now mildly nervous. “Damned good thing I trust you both to keep me safe.” I stared from one to the other, bringing home the point.

Creede winked. “Damned good thing you’re hard to kill.”

Bruno’s smile made me feel better. “That vampire did make it a lot easier to protect you.”

Okay. One more time for the cameras. I lifted the horn to my lips and took a deep breath. I raised one finger to let them know I was ready. Golden and dark eyes began to blaze with power. They stood on either side of the circle and began to whisper words and sounds that seemed better suited to a dark night with cool sheets.

If I hadn’t already inhaled, the feel of the magic would have stolen my breath away. Power crackled across my skin and pressed against me with claustrophobic closeness. They gave no signal, but I could tell the circle was complete by the way my every hair was standing on end. I blew the horn, this time not tentatively. I gave it all I was worth. The sound filled the circle and pushed at the edges, wanting to go farther. It vibrated in my chest but didn’t seem to bother my ears. The sound was a pleasant, low hum, like a distant interstate. I risked a glance at the mages and found they’d had to step back several feet. The circle wasn’t straight up and down anymore. It was cone shaped and it apparently was all they could do to keep it intact. Their hands were blurs in the air; and their eyes, pairs of twin stars. I didn’t start to worry until Bruno turned his head and yelled something to the other people in the room. I couldn’t hear him past the deep, dark wall of sound from the ancient horn, but the panic on my friends’ faces made me pull the horn from my lips. Everybody either ducked behind furniture or bolted out of the room.

Not good.

Creede and Bruno started talking to each other across the void of hazy air, but I still couldn’t hear them and I suck at reading lips. Whatever they decided made Creede call out. Dawna came running and after listening to him raced to the front door and opened it.

Creede’s fingers moved lazily and gracefully. He reached out as though to pull a rope. I felt the magic surrounding me follow. It was as though someone had turned on a vacuum and applied the hose to my skin. I started to take a step toward the door, because it seemed like he was going to move the circle. But Bruno waved his arms in wide, frantic gestures and I could see the word No! in his mouth movements. I put my foot back down and he put a hand to his chest and let out a heaving breath like I’d nearly given him a heart attack.

The pulling, tugging sensation moved from mere pressure to actual pain as Creede backed slowly toward the door. Bruno saw me wince and gave me a look filled with sympathy but made it clear I shouldn’t move. My skin was now stinging like tiny ants were biting me. The air was like honey thickened to a near solid and full of sharp crystals that cut when I moved. I had to struggle to do anything except breathe.

When Creede finally reached the door, he shouted something to Bruno, who raised his arms and steadied his stance. With an apparent massive effort, he threw power forward, and I nearly fell over under the assault of energy. I dropped to my knees, trickier than it sounds while staying carefully in the circle. I sat on my heels and put my palms flat on the floor to stay steady.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the smell of burning wood and hair that surrounded me, or the intense pressure and pain all along one side of my body. All I could think was, Please don’t destroy my house.

When the release came it was like slamming a door against a hurricane. The sudden silence and absence of wind topples you. I fell backward, and although I tried desperately to correct myself, I was going to break the circle. Shit!

But then strong arms grabbed me and I found myself in Bruno’s lap, looking up at his relieved face. His lips moved, but like in a B-grade kung fu movie the sounds reached my brain a few seconds after they left his mouth: “That was a close one.”

Full sound returned with a pop, and I could hear the wind whistling through the doorway and the hum-tick of my Kit-Cat Klock on the wall. “What happened?” My voice was breathy, which was pretty much how I felt—weightless, breathless. My heart was beating out a healthy dose of panic. “Is everyone okay?”

He gave my arm a gentle squeeze. “You gave me a scare, woman. If you’d broken that circle we’d be picking up pieces of your house in downtown L.A.”

I looked around. The house looked fine, but Creede looked a little crisp around the edges. He was on his knees at the doorway, hands on his thighs, relearning how to breathe. He looked past me in Bruno’s arms to the other man’s eyes. “We’re going to have to find some way to shore up that barrier. We didn’t craft it to handle anything like this. This circle just barely held it until I could get an edge out the door to release it, and I don’t think she was really trying. Do the identification spells give any hint of what we’re dealing with?”

I didn’t have to ask what barrier. They’d apparently decided it was a foregone conclusion I’d be sounding the horn to close the rift. Bruno nodded and reluctantly eased me off his lap until I was sitting on the floor. He spun on his butt and looked at the circle, no longer chalk but a charred mess that was still smoking. Aww, man—my hardwood!

He stared at the symbols as if reading a report. “The spell’s definitely on the horn. Never seen anything quite like it. See what you think, John.”

Wow … working together. Creede got slowly to his feet, pushing off the doorjamb with that same deep weariness he’d shown at the prison. He shook his head repeatedly and blinked as though dazed. When he got close, he squatted down and stared where Bruno was pointing. I took a second to tug on both of their pant legs. “Thanks, guys. I think it might have been ugly if anyone with less skill had been casting. Sorry I keep being so much trouble.”