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“Yes,” Morio said.
Rodney slowly lifted his middle finger and flashed it at us, then lithely leapt into the box, lay down, and the light faded from his eyes. Morio flipped the lid shut and locked it.
“I don’t like to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I have a feeling Rodney’s going to end up on the junk heap before long.” I poked the box with my finger. “You think Grandmother Coyote would be offended if we gave him back?”
Morio gave me a long, lazy smile. “You want to be the one to ask her?”
Backtrack and avoid the steely teeth at the end of the road. “No, no . . . just put him away for now. We’ll figure out what to do about him later.” I wondered if we could cast a mute spell on him. Washing his mouth out with soap wouldn’t help. He didn’t have a tongue or taste buds.
As Morio stashed the box in his bag, I stared up at the sky. The wind was rustling through the leaves, sending a handful whirling to the ground. They were changing color fast this year. Autumn was coming in with a heavy heart. I sucked in another deep breath and felt the rush of graveyard dust fill my soul. Oh yes, the Harvestmen were on the move.
Morio motioned for me to take my place at the altar. His dark eyes sparkled with flecks of topaz, even as my own violet eyes were flecked with silver. We’d been running magic thick and fast for days now, accelerating our practice, trying to hone our spells before we came face-to-face with the new demon general that Shadow Wing had loosed upon Seattle. Once we found the lamia, we’d have our work cut out for us. She was lying low, hiding out, and none of our contacts could place either her or the half-demon wizard we suspected had gated her in, but eventually she’d make her move and we had to be ready.
As I stared at my husband, I realized that he was looking older. Not old, but wiser, stronger, and more world-weary than when we’d first met. Hell, we’d all aged, if not in looks, in spirit.
Morio wore an indigo muslin shirt and a matching pair of loose pants. His outfit was belted with a silver sash, off of which hung a sheath protecting a serrated blade. His jet-black hair was smooth and shiny, loose from its usual ponytail. My ritual garments complemented his own: an indigo low-cut gown that swept the floor. It was loose enough to move in, form-fitting enough not to hinder me. Belted on my right side hung my silver dagger. On my left—the unicorn’s horn.
He paused, finger to the wind, then nodded.
“So we just repeat the Summoning spell, but in the opposite pattern, along with the Chant to Dispel?”
“Right. Go ahead. Since you did the actual summoning, you should be the one to banish the spirit.”
I leaned over the center of the bench, across which was spread a smooth layer of salt and rosemary needles. Picking up the obsidian blade, I pinpointed the energy and traced the salt-drawn pentagram in reverse, then circled it widdershins to open the pentacle.
“Suminae banis, suminae banis, mortis mordente, suminae banis.” I focused on banishing the spirit we’d summoned.
The energy swirled through my body, through the blade, into the salt and herbs. There was a sudden silence as the wind dropped and the air grew thick. Above the center of the altar, the ghostly form appeared and, with a slow shriek, vanished from sight, sucked into a spinning vortex. I sealed the spell with a violent slash, severing the energy that had opened the gate to the Netherworld. There was a swift pop and the portal disappeared.
“Nifty! It worked. Not quite as powerful as opening a Demon Gate, but hey, at least this time I didn’t set loose a dozen wayward ghosts,” I said as the clouds broke wide, loosing thunder and lightning and a flurry of hail. The candle flames sizzled and went out, and rain began to pour, soaking us to the skin.
“Think the universe is trying to tell us something?” I watched as the rain washed away all evidence of the salt and rosemary.
Morio let out a long sigh and picked up the candles, emptying the water that pooled in their centers. “Come on, we’ve got two zombies to clean up after. And after that I just want to go home, take a hot bath, and then . . .” He paused, giving me a long look.
“And then you’re going to jump my bones and make me a happy, happy woman,” I finished for him.
He cocked his head to one side and winked. “Oh yeah,” he said. “And make myself a happy, happy man.”
CHAPTER 2
By the time we cleaned up the zombies and reached the car, I was feeling grungy and in need of a shower. The thought of hot water was my holy grail. I wanted nothing more than to wash off both ectoplasm and the tidbits of rotting flesh that clung to my skin. Gingerly, I slipped behind the wheel as Morio slid into the passenger seat. A glance at the clock showed that it was eleven P.M. We hadn’t hit the witching hour yet, but the only magic I wanted for the rest of the night was sex magic. Better yet, skip the magic, just bring on the boys.
I leaned back against the plush leather seat of my Lexus, closing my eyes for just a moment before starting the ignition and glancing over my shoulder to make sure I was clear to back out of the parking lot.
Morio seemed as tired as I was. He yawned. “Death magic really takes a toll on the body, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Summoning that spirit left me wiped. I’m more exhausted from that than from calling down the lightning.” I was about to pull out when my cell phone jangled. I stopped, put the car in park, and motioned to my purse, which was on the floor next to Morio.
“Hand me my phone, would you? That better not be Delilah asking me to pick up some milk for her. I’m not playing delivery woman tonight.”
He fished it out for me.
I glanced at the caller ID. Menolly. My other sister, who just happened to be a vampire. She should be at work, but the number read as her cell phone rather than the bar. Flipping it open, I pressed the receiver to my ear. “What’s up?”
“If you’re done playing George A. Romero, do you mind helping out in a real emergency?” Her voice was terse. She wasn’t teasing.
