AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I pushed the mirror off my lap as I struggled not to spew. Pain followed the nausea. My skin felt like it was on fire, the pulsating energy hitting me hard without my aura to even out the surges. My legs wouldn't work, and when I tried to stand, I fell over. I hit the snow-covered pavement on my side, managing to get my arms out so I didn't crack my nose open.
"Ms. Morgan?" Bis tried again, and I clenched in agony when he touched me and I felt like I was going to explode. Damn it, I'd been okay until Al tapped into me to make his crossing cheaper. The cement slab under me was hard, and my cheek burned against the snow.
I smelled burnt amber, and suddenly there was a pair of shiny, buckled shoes before my pain-clenched eyes. "Run, Bis," I panted, then sucked in air when the pain cut off with a blessed suddenness. The power of the line was gone, and it was just me lying in the snow.
"What, by my blood dame's shadow, am I doing in the snow?" came Al's refined British accent. "Morgan, get up. You look like a scullery girl down there."
"Ow," I said as his white-gloved hand grabbed my shoulder and hauled me up. I stumbled, my feet not quite finding the ground for the first second or two.
"Let go of Ms. Morgan," came a deep, gravelly voice from behind me, and still in Al's grip, I worked to look around me.
"Bis?" I stammered, and Al dropped me. Wobbling, I found my balance with a hand on Al's chest, shocked. Bis had released his body's warmth to melt a patch of snow, taking the water into him to increase his size. He was as tall as me now, a grainy black, and his wings spread to make himself look bigger. Water-filled muscles bunched and flexed, from his craggy feet to his gnarly hands. He was probably too heavy to fly, and when Al dropped back a step, the gargoyle hissed to show a long, forked tongue. Damn, there was steam coming off him.
I felt Al touch the small line running through the graveyard, and I jumped. "Al, no!" I shouted, feeling helpless as I stood between a red-eyed demon and a red-eyed, horned gargoyle, my hands outstretched to them both. When did Bis get horns?
"He's just a kid!" I shouted at Al. "Al, don't hurt him! He's just a kid!"
Al hesitated, and I flicked a look behind me at Bis, surprised by the change. Bridge trolls were able to change their size with water, too. "Bis, it's okay. He won't hurt me. Ivy wouldn't let me come out here alone if it wasn't okay. Just...relax."
The tension lessened as Bis stopped hissing. He slowly lost his crouch, shrinking only slightly as he closed his wings. Al's hands stopped glowing, and there was a curious sensation in me as the demon pushed a wad of force back into the line.
Al sniffed loudly, tugging his coat about him and adjusting his lace. "When did you get your gargoyle?" he said sarcastically. "You've been holding out on me, itchy witch. Bring him with you tonight, and he can have mortar cakes and tea with mine. Poor little Treble hasn't had anyone to play with in ages."
"You have a gargoyle?" I said as Bis shifted awkwardly, unused to this much mass.
"How else would I be able to tap a line so far underground?" the demon said with forced pleasantness. "And how clever of you to have one already." This last was said sourly, and I wondered what other nasty surprises he hadn't told me about.
"Bis isn't my familiar," I said, working to stay upright as my fatigue hit me anew when the adrenaline crashed. "Al, I really need the night off."
At that, the demon seemed to bring his wandering attention back from the cold night. "Stand up," he said, jerking me upright. "Get the snow off you," he added, smacking my coat to make the crusty stuff fall away. "What the devil is wrong with you, calling me out in the snow when you have that adorable little kitchen?"
"I don't trust you with my friends," I said. "Can we skip this week?"
His gloved hand lashed out and gripped my chin before I could think to move. I stifled a gasp, and Bis rumbled. "Your aura is nearly thin enough to tear...," the demon said softly, turning my face back and forth as his goat-slitted eyes peered three inches outside my outline. "It is far too thin to work the lines, much less travel on them," he said in disgust, and dropped my chin. "No wonder you were belly down on the pavement. Hurt, huh?"
I backed up, rubbing where it felt as if I could feel him still. "So I have the night off?"
He laughed. "God's little green apples, no. I'll just pop on home and bring back a little something to make my itchy witch al-l-l-l-l better."
That didn't sound good. I had looked in my books already, finding that there was no white charm to help replace a person's aura. I didn't know any black ones either. If there were any, vampires would know about them, seeing as that's what the undead ones siphoned off their victims along with the blood.
"A curse?" I asked, backing up until I felt Bis behind me.
"It wouldn't work if it wasn't." Al eyed me over his smoked glasses and smiled to show me his blocky teeth. "I may not have much, but I do have auras, all lined up in pretty jars, like some people collect wine. I specialize in the eighteenth century. It was a good century for souls."
I stifled a shiver, telling myself it was from the cold. "I'd rather wait until mine replenishes itself, thanks."
"Like I care what you'd rather?" Turning to make his coattails furl, Al looked across the graveyard to the nearby line. "I'll be back in five minutes," he said as he started to go misty. "Soon as I remember where Ceri hid the little things. Wait for me there," he said, pointing at the nearby ley line like I was a dog. "I don't want you passing out when I come back. And have your bag with you. You're going to pay for this by starting early today. Chop-chop!"
"Al...," I complained, irritated that he would try to disguise his cheapness with a supposed interest in my welfare. He didn't care if I passed out or not. But it wouldn't cost as much to cross into the ever-after if he were in a line, and though he wouldn't admit it, Al was so far up credit creek that even this minuscule difference was important.
"There," Al said, pointing at the ground. A shimmer cascaded over him, and he was gone. Only his footprints in the snow and the lingering scent of burnt amber remained.
I exhaled in annoyance and looked at the tall wall surrounding the property. It was going to be another full twenty-four hours before Ivy and I could go talk to Skimmer. Not to mention that the I.S. might find Mia during that time and get someone killed. Concerned at the sound of running water, I turned to Bis, surprised to find him spitting across the graveyard to coat individual grave markers in ice. He was getting smaller by the second, turning white as he warmed up by absorbing the warmth from the water before he let it go. Talk about weird.
"There is no way I'm taking anyone's aura," I muttered, imagining Al sitting on me and holding my nose to make me open my mouth. The truth was, I'd been over to his apartments enough times now that he probably had a strand of hair to target a spell to me. All he had to do was twist the curse and I'd be wearing someone else's aura. Nice.
Bis spit tiny little ice cubes to get his balance perfect, then flew up to land on the angel's shoulder. He looked a little ill. "You want me to come with you? To the ever-after?"
The kid looked scared to death, and my heart went out to him. "No. Absolutely not," I said firmly, looking for my discarded mirror and my forgotten bag of cookies. "Al was just jerking you around. I wouldn't take you even if you asked. It's nasty over there." His wings drooped in relief, and I added, "Look, I don't want to go into the church. It would be just like Al to show up and cause trouble. Will you tell Ivy it didn't work and bring my bag out here? It's in my closet, already packed. Oh, and make sure she calls the correctional facility to set up something for Monday."
Safety was a good reason for not going back in the church, but the truth of it was, I didn't want to have to deal with Jenks. Crap, I didn't have time to waste a day in the ever-after keeping Al at arm's length and going to parties. It seemed that's all we ever did. Al called it networking. No wonder the demon was broke.
"Sure, Ms. Morgan," the gargoyle said, his eyes downcast as if he knew why I was sending him instead of going myself. Bis stretched his wings, going black as he drew all his warmth into his core to maintain his body heat while making the short flight to the church. His leathery wings beat once, and he was airborne, looking scary as he flew to the church.
Alone, I snatched up the scrying mirror and my bag of cookies. I wasn't looking forward to wearing someone else's aura. I'd rather just suffer the pain. Head down, I trudged through the snow, wincing when I felt the icy warmth of the line take me. Usually it was hard to feel them like this, but my aura was thin and this was my line, unused by anyone else, as it was rather small and surrounded by the dead. People were superstitious.
Finding my footprints from last week, I went a few steps beyond and set the cookies and mirror on a nearby tombstone. "Thanks, Beatrice," I whispered, reading the stone marker. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stared at the night and tried to stay warm. It was sort of like waiting at the bus stop, and I found myself falling into blank-stare mode. With a wry smile, I carefully unfocused my attention-slowly, until I knew it wouldn't hurt-to bring up my second sight, hoping to spot Al before he popped in to scare the crap out of me.
The red ribbon of power was suddenly around me, looking like an aurora borealis as it swelled and ebbed, always there, always fluctuating, running off to who knew where. Surrounding it was a broken landscape of stunted scrub and cold rock. Everything had a red sheen to it now except for the moon and the grave markers, and though the moon looked its normal silver now, when I crossed over to the ever-after, it would be an ugly shade of red. Not that we'd stay on the surface long.
I shivered, not liking it when my hair started to move in the wind from the ever-after. There was no snow, but I'd be willing to bet it was colder there. "Any time, Al," I called, then leaned against Beatrice's tombstone. He was going to make me wait. Son of a bastard.
"Ah, mistress witch," a faintly familiar voice sighed. "You're as smart as a steel trap, but I opine you won't keep body and soul together much longer. Nohow can I fix it if you maintain your course."
I spun around, going warm when I saw Al behind me, casually leaning against a tombstone with one booted foot cocked on a toe. He had made himself look like Pierce, and face hot, I gritted my teeth. But then I realized that Al didn't know about Pierce, wouldn't know to look for him in my thoughts, and wouldn't know what the man called me, or the curious accent he had-a mix of rough street talk and pre-Turn English.
