White Witch, Black Curse

Chapter Nine

The dusty box my mom had brought over last fall was pretty much empty. There was a scarily small T-shirt from Disneyland. Some bric-a-brac. My old diary, which I had started some time after my dad died and I realized pain could be remade once you gave it the permanence of words. The books that had once filled the box were now in the kitchen, but the eight-hundred-level ley line arcane textbook Robbie had given me for the winter solstice hadn't been among them. I hadn't thought it was here, but I had wanted to check before I went over to my mom's and got her stirred up by looking for it in her attic. It had to be somewhere.
But it wasn't in my closet, and sitting back on my heels, I pushed a long curl out of my eyes and exhaled, gazing at the single-paned, night-darkened stained-glass window my bedroom had. Without the book, I had no hope of re-creating the spell I'd done eight years ago to give a spirit in purgatory a temporary body. I was missing a few hard-to-find ley line tools as well. Not to mention that the charm needed a whopping big boost of communal energy.
Being at the closing of the circle at Fountain Square on the solstice would do it. I knew that from experience, but the solstice was come and gone. I was banned from the Howlers' arena, so that was out, even if they did have a game in the snow. New Year's was my next best bet. They didn't close the circle, but there would be a party, and when people started singing "Auld Lang Syne," the energy flowed. I had three days to find everything. It didn't look good.
"Well, Tink loves a duck," I said, and Jenks, resting on my dresser among my perfumes, buzzed his wings. The pixy hadn't left my side since finding out we had a ghost. I thought it was funny. Pierce had been here almost a year. Why it bothered Jenks now I had no idea.
Though our hour had come and gone, Ford was still in the kitchen, slowly talking to Pierce one letter at a time as I listened in while whipping up a batch of earth-magic locator amulets. The demon curse would have been easier, but I wasn't going to twist demon magic in front of Ford. I had a bad feeling I'd done the complex charm wrong since nothing happened when I invoked the first potion with a drop of my blood and spilled it on the amulet. Mia was probably outside the quarter-mile radius within which it worked, but I should've smelled something.
"You think the book is still at your mom's?" Jenks asked, his wings a blur though his butt was still settled on my dresser. The sound of his kids playing with Rex was loud, and I wondered how long the cat would last before she hid from them.
"I'll find out tonight," I said firmly as I refolded the box and shoved it into a pile of boots. "I must have left it at Mom's when I moved out," I said around a stretch to get the kinks out of my back. "It's probably in the attic along with the stuff to do it." I hope.
I stood, glancing at my alarm clock. I was meeting Marshal at his apartment in less than an hour, and from there we were driving to my mom's so it would look more like a "date." Finding an excuse to get up into the attic might be hard, but Marshal could help. I didn't want to ask my mom about the book. The first time I'd used it, I'd gotten in major trouble with the I.S.
Hands on my hips, I gazed at the unusual sight of the back of my closet. Shoes and boots were everywhere, and the thought of Newt possessing me, clearing out my closet in the search for her memory, rose up. Suddenly nervous, I shoved the box away and began carefully putting my boots back.
Jenks took to the air, his legs unfolding to reach the top of the dresser and his face tight with worry. "Why do you want to give him a body anyway? You don't even know why he's here. How come Ford hasn't asked him that? Huh? He's been spying on us."
Wondering where that had come from brought my head up. "Jenks, he's been dead for a hundred years. Why would Pierce be spying on us?" I huffed, nudging the last of my boots into line.
"If he's not spying on us, then why is he here?" Jenks asked, arms crossed belligerently.
Hand on my hip, I gestured in exasperation. "I don't know! Maybe because I helped him once and he thinks I can help him again. That's what we do, you know. What's with you, Jenks! You've been bitchy all night."
The pixy sighed, his wings stopping to look gossamer and silk. "I don't like it," he said. "He's been here for a year watching us. Messing with your phone."
"He's been trying to get noticed." The air pressure shifted, and Ivy's footsteps echoed in the sanctuary.
"Ivy?" Jenks said loudly, then he darted out.
Hearing Ivy's steps, I started throwing my shoes in the closet, trying to get it shut before Ivy offered to help me organize. My thoughts went back to that solstice night, trying to remember the charm. I saw Robbie pick up the rare red-and-white shallow bowl before we fled Fountain Square. But what he did with it between that and Pierce and me going to the vamp's house and saving the girl, I didn't know. The kitchen had been clean by the time I was strong enough to stand again, and I had assumed Dad's ley line stuff was back in the attic. I never did see the book again. My mom hadn't said much about me summoning a ghost out of purgatory, and it would be just like her to hide everything to keep me from doing it again. Especially when I'd been trying to summon my dad, not a young man accused of witchcraft and buried alive in the mid-1800s.
Ivy's shadow passed my door, Jenks a small glow and a hushed voice of panic on her shoulder. "Hi, Ivy," I called as I kicked the last shoe in and forced the door shut. Then, knowing how she disliked surprises, I added, "Ford is in the kitchen."
From Ivy's room came a preoccupied "Hi, Rachel." Then a terse "Get out of my way, Jenks," followed by a soft thump. "Hey. Where's my sword?"
My eyebrows rose. Nudging my flip-flops under the bed, I went to the hall. "You left it in the belfry stairway after you oiled it the last time." I hesitated, hearing Jenks tattling on me. "Ah, what's up?"
Ivy was halfway back to the sanctuary. Her long winter coat swayed, and her boots hit the wood floor with purpose. Gold sparkles fell from Jenks as he flitted back and forth in front of her, flying backward. I hated it when he did that to me, and by her stiff arm movements, I figured Ivy did, too.
"It's a ghost, Ivy!" he shrilled. "Rachel summoned it when she was a kid, and it's back."
Leaning against the door frame with my arms crossed, I said, "I was eighteen, not a kid."
His sparkles shifted to silver. "And he likes her," he added.
Oh for God's sake, I thought, losing sight of them in the dark foyer but for Jenks's glow. "We have a randy ghost?" Ivy asked, faintly amused, and my eyes narrowed.
"This isn't funny," Jenks snapped.
"He's not randy!" I said loudly, more embarrassed by Jenks than anything else. Pierce was probably hearing every word. "He's a nice guy." But my gaze became distant as I remembered Pierce's eyes, the flinty black of them and how I'd shivered when he kissed me on my front porch, ready to go off to tag the bad vampire and thinking he could make me stay behind.
I smiled, remembering my past emotional inexperience. I'd been eighteen, and totally impressed by a charismatic witch with mischievous eyes. But it had been the turning point in my life. Together, Pierce and I had saved a little girl from a pedophile vamp-the same vampire who'd gotten him buried alive in the 1800s, which I thought beautiful justice. I'd expected the deed would have been enough to put his soul at rest, but apparently not.
That night had been the first time I'd felt alive, the adrenaline and endorphins making my body, still recovering from disease, feel...normal. It was then that I realized I'd risk anything to feel that way all the time-and most days, I did.
Ivy's lithe shape seemed to ghost across the dim sanctuary toward me, pixies whirling in her wake with too many questions. She had her sheathed sword in her hand, and concern hit me. "What do you need your sword for?" I asked, then froze. She'd been out to the boat. She'd found something, and was going to follow it up with cold steel before sunrise. Crap. "You've been to the boat."
Her perfect, oval face was placid, but the intent eagerness of her pace tightened my gut. "I've been to the boat," Ivy said. "But I don't know yet who else was out there, if that's what you're asking. Don't you have a date tonight with Marshal?"
"It's not a date," I said, ignoring Jenks hovering nearby, shedding frustrated sparkles. "He's rescuing me from my overzealous mother. How come the sword if you don't know who was at the boat?"
"The hell with the sword, Ivy," Jenks shouted, and I didn't wonder that his kids were now whispering in the sanctuary's shadowed rafters. "This is serious! It's been here for months! Changing her ring tones and scaring my cat. Spying on us!"
"Pierce is not spying on us. God, Jenks, lighten up!" I exclaimed, and Ivy came out of her room with her sword, a rag, and the cleaner she used on her steel. "I don't mind skipping dinner at my mom's. You want to take a girls' night out?" I asked, eyeing her blade.
"No, but thanks for the offer." Ivy eased the blade out an inch and the biting scent of oiled metal tickled my nose. "I got a look at the list of people who visited Piscary when he was in jail." Her smile made me stifle a shudder, and when I dropped my gaze, she added, "The sword is a conversation starter. Rynn..." A faint blush marred her pale complexion, and she started for the kitchen. "I'm not his scion, but he's letting me lean on him."
Lips pressed, I couldn't help but wonder what she gave him in exchange, then squelched it. Not my business. As long as Ivy was happy, I was happy.
"So did your chat with Ford bring anything to light?" Ivy asked over her shoulder, and I pushed into motion behind her, headed for the kitchen.
"Just that we've got a freaking ghost!" Jenks said loud enough to make my eyeballs hurt. Rex padded at Ivy's heels, ears pricked up and eager. "Aren't you listening? I think it's one of her old boyfriends she killed, spying on us."
"Jenks. Listen to me. Pierce is not an old boyfriend," I said, exasperated, as I followed them. "I only knew him one night. And he was dead when I found him."
Ivy chuckled. "You could fall in love in an afternoon when we worked at the I.S.," she said, then added, "But he's dead?"
"That's what I've been saying!" Jenks shouted, flitting from me to her. "Tink's little green panties! You got fairy dust in your ears?"
I entered the kitchen through a sheet of glittering sparkles. The room was a mess, and I flushed when Ivy stopped short and stared. My spelling cupboards were all open, stuff strewn across the counters, evidence of me cooking up the locator amulets. I should have just used the demon curse and been done with it, 'cause the last two hours had been a big waste of time. I hadn't even bothered invoking the last six potions, lined up at the back of the counter.
Ford looked up from the far corner where he had put himself to talk to Pierce. Beside him was the makeshift Ouija board and a pocket-size notebook with Ford's messy scrawl filling a page. Seeing us, the man brushed cookie crumbs from himself and leaned back. I wondered if I should say hi to Pierce. He was in here...somewhere.
"I'll tell her," Ford said softly when Rex jingled in and twined around his feet. The psychiatrist clearly wasn't talking to us, and his amulet turned a thankful blue, rich and deep.
Jenks darted about like a hummingbird on steroids. "Tell her what? What did the ghost say?" he asked, and I glared. His paranoia was getting old.
Her eyes still wide and questioning, Ivy delicately nudged a mesh sack of herbs down the counter to make room for her sword. "Doing a little cooking?" she asked mildly.
"Uh, a locator amulet to find Mia," I said, not wanting to admit that my first attempt hadn't worked. Shifting my shoulders, I started to put things away.
"If you'd let me organize your stuff, you wouldn't make such a mess," she said, and after pushing a box of candles to the back of the counter, she shifted the toaster forward. "Hi, Ford," she added, sashaying to the fridge, then coming out with the bagels. "Rachel giving you problems?"
Ford chuckled. "It wouldn't be Rachel if she wasn't."
I took in a breath to complain, catching it when Jenks unexpectedly dropped in front of me, hands on his hips. His green shirt had a tear in it, which was unusual for the usually meticulous pixy. "Tell her what you're trying to do," he demanded, putting his arms down to hide the small rip when I noticed it. "Tell her!"
Rolling my eyes, I turned to Ivy. "If I can find it, I'm going to spell Pierce a temporary body so I can talk to him."
Ivy paused with the sliced bagel in one hand, my ceremonial ley line knife in the other. The ornate handle looked odd in her fingers, and her expression was amused. "That's the ghost, right?"
A burst of light came from Jenks. "He's been spying on us!" he yelled, and I wondered why he was freaking out. Ivy and Ford weren't. "Tink's titties! Doesn't anyone see a problem with this? He's been here a year, listening to everything! Do you have any idea the crap we've been through in the last twelve months? And you want to give this guy a voice?"
My brow furrowed as I realized Jenks had a point. Secrets. They were what kept me alive: Trent being an elf, me being a proto-demon, my arrangement with Al. Crap, Pierce probably knew Al's summoning name. Mine, too. Everything.
"Pierce wouldn't say anything," I said, but Jenks took my soft voice for insecurity, and he flew triumphantly to Ivy.
Ignoring him, Ivy shoved the bread in the toaster. "You can do that?" she said, still facing away. "Give a ghost a body...?"
Her voice cut off, and she turned. The hint of hope was like thin ice, rimming her eyes, fragile. It hurt to see it there. I knew where her thoughts had gone. Kisten was dead. Seeing her hope as well, Jenks lost some of his vim.
I shook my head, and the skin around her eyes tightened almost imperceptibly. "It's a temporary spell," I said reluctantly. "It only works if a person's sprit is stuck in purgatory. And only if you have a huge amount of communal energy to work it. I'm going to have to wait until New Year's before I can even try. I'm sorry, but it can't bring Kisten back even for a night." I took a careful breath. "If Kisten were in purgatory, we'd have known it by now."
She nodded as if she didn't care, but her face was sad when she reached for a plate. "I didn't know you could talk to the dead," she said in an even voice to Ford. "Don't tell anyone, or they'll make you an Inderlander and the I.S. will put you to work."
Ford shifted uneasily on his chair, her depression probably getting to him. "I can't talk to the dead," he admitted. "But this guy?" Smiling faintly, he pointed to where Rex was now sitting in the threshold, staring at me like the creepy little cat she was. "He's unusually coherent. I've never run into a ghost who knows he or she is dead and is open to communication. Most are stuck in a pattern of compulsive behavior, trapped in their own personal hell."
Kneeling, I stacked the still-clean copper spelling pots under the counter with my cherry red loaded splat gun nestled in the smallest. I kept it at crawling height for good reason. But when Ivy gasped, I popped back up.
"This is mine!" she exclaimed, waving the map of the conservatory I had scribbled the alphabet on. Ford was scrunched back in his chair, and her eyes were going black.
"Sorry," Ford offered, shrinking back while trying not to look as if he was.
Jenks took flight, and I brushed the salt from my knees. "I did it," I said. "I didn't know it was important. Sorry. I'll erase it."
Ivy stopped short and fumed, her short black hair with the gold tips swinging as Jenks landed protectively on Ford's shoulder. The man winced at the close contact, but he didn't move as Ivy seemed to catch herself. "Don't bother," she said stiffly, and when her bagel jumped in the toaster, she smacked the paper back down on the table in front of Ford.
Wincing, I wiped the crumbs from my ceremonial knife and slid her a table knife instead. Leave it to a vamp to slice her bagel with a ceremonial device designed for black magic. Ivy slowly lost her stiff posture as she layered a thick swath of cream cheese on the bagel. She glanced at the drawer where I had stashed my knife, and with what I thought was a huge concession on her part, she broke the silence with a terse "It's not a big deal."
Ford tucked his amulet away as if getting ready to leave. "Going out, Ivy?" he asked.
She turned with her bagel on a plate, and leaned against the far counter. "Just chatting with a few people," she said, flashing her sharp canines as she took a careful bite. "I've been out to the boat," she said around her chews. "Thanks for waiting. I appreciate that."
The man bobbed his head, and the tension in the room eased. "Find anything?"
I already knew the answer, and I dipped below the level of the counter to shove my twenty-pound bag of sea salt into a back cupboard. The deep-fat fryer went in front of it, and I shut the door with a hard thump, thinking the last couple of hours had been a real waste. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worked a charm and gotten no result. Maybe I could ask my mom. She was good at earth charms. It might be an excuse to get into the attic, too.
"An undead vampire killed Kisten," Ivy said, her gray-silk voice holding so much repressed fury it chilled me. "But we knew that already. He smells familiar," she added, and I turned with a stack of ceramic spelling spoons in hand. Her eyes were going black, but I didn't think it was from my rising pulse.
"Which is good," she said, her voice almost husky. "He's probably a Cincy vamp and still here, as Rynn Cormel suggested. I know I've smelled him before. I just can't place him. Maybe I ran into him in a blood house once. It'd be easier if the scent wasn't six months old."
That last was more than slightly accusing, and I quietly returned to putting things away. I was glad I hadn't been there to watch Ivy discover she knew the vampire who had killed Kisten. It had to be someone outside the camarilla, or she would have noticed his scent the morning we'd found Kisten.
"This wouldn't have been a problem if someone hadn't dosed me with a forget spell," I said dryly, and Jenks lit up in a burst of white.
"I said I was sorry about that!" he shouted. His kids scattered, and Ford's head jerked up. "You were going to try to stake the bastard, Rachel, and I had to stop you before you killed yourself. Ivy wasn't here, and I'm too damned small!"
Shocked, I reached after him as he flew out. "Jenks?" I called. "Jenks, I'm sorry. That's not the way I wanted it to sound."
Depressed, I turned to Ford and Ivy. I was acting like an insensitive jerk. No wonder Jenks was in a bad mood. Here Ivy and I were trying to find Kisten's killer, and Jenks was the one who had destroyed the easy answer. "Sorry," I said, and Ford met my guilty gaze. "That was thoughtless."
Ford pulled his legs back under him. "Don't beat yourself up. You're not the only one who makes quick decisions that come back to bite them. Jenks has a few guilt issues he needs to work out is all."
Ivy snorted as she turned her bagel to get a better grip on it. "Is that your professional opinion?"
Ford chuckled. "You're the last person to be throwing stones," he said. "Ignoring a lead for six months because you felt guilty that you weren't there to save the two people you love the most."
Surprised, I turned to Ivy. Her first startled look turned into a one-shouldered, embarrassed shrug. "Ivy," I said as I leaned against the counter, "Kisten's death is not your fault. You weren't even there."
"But if I had been, it might not have happened," she said softly.
Ford cleared his throat, looking at the archway as Jenks buzzed back in, sullen. Matalina was hovering at the lintel, her arms crossed and a severe expression on her face. Apparently the wise pixy woman was doing a bit of psychoanalyzing herself and didn't want Jenks sulking in the desk.
"Sorry, Rache," he said as he lit on my shoulder. "I shouldn't have flown out like that."
"Don't worry about it," I murmured. "I only said what I did because I was so far from putting blame on you that what I sounded like never occurred to me. You saved my life. And we'll get my memory back. You did okay. I just want to know what happened."
Ford leaned back and tucked his pencil away. "You will. It's starting to surface."
"Can we get back to the ghost?" Jenks said, his wings making my hair fly, and the wan-looking human smiled.
"He says thank you, by the way," Ford said, glancing at his notebook. "He didn't find his rest, much to his shame, but he wouldn't be allowed to walk as he is if it hadn't been for Al freeing him."
"Al!" I exclaimed, squinting to see Ford's smile through the cloud of sparkles Jenks had made, hovering in midair, in shock. Even Ivy paused, bagel halfway to her mouth. "What does Al have to do with this?" I stammered as Jenks made self-congratulatory sounds.
"I knew it!" he crowed. "I knew it all along!"
But Ford was still smiling, the faint wrinkles around his eyes making him look tired. "Nothing intentionally, I'm sure. Remember that tombstone your demon cracked?"
I shook my head, biting back my ire at his use of the term "your demon." Then I changed the motion into a nod. "The night I rescued Ceri?" I said, then blinked. "My God. Pierce is buried here? In our backyard?"
If pixies could have coronaries, Jenks was having one. Sputtering, he hovered, his face frightened and a steady stream of black sparkles puddling on the center counter to spill over and eddy about my stocking feet. "You're talking about the one with the weird-ass statue of the angel?" he managed, and Ford nodded.
No way! I thought, wondering if I had enough time to find my flashlight and go out and look at it before Marshal got here.
"The name was scratched off!" Jenks shrilled, and Rex stretched, going to twine about my feet as she tried to get closer to her tiny master.
"Take a chill pill, Jenks," I said, "before you set your dust on fire."
"You shut up!" he shouted, then flew to Ivy. "I told you! Didn't I tell you? You don't chisel off someone's name unless..." His eyes widened. "And he's in unsanctified ground!" he squeaked. "Rachel, he's trouble. And he's dead! Doesn't it bother you that he's dead? How come he's dead!"
Ivy's dark eyes went from me to Jenks, and then to Ford, who was sitting back and watching it all in a rather clinical way.
"He was dead when I met him," I said dryly, "and he was nice enough then. Besides, a good slice of Cincy's population is dead."
"Yeah, but they aren't lurking in our church, spying on us!" he yelled, getting right in my face. "Why are you trying to make him real!"
I had endured just about enough. Slamming a cupboard door shut, I stepped forward to push him back. "He's been trying to make contact," I said, eyes narrowed and inches from him. "Making him solid is the only way I can talk to him without a frickin' Ouija board. If you have to know, he was cemented into the ground because he was accused of being a witch in the 1800s. He's probably trying to find a way to get out of purgatory and just die, so lighten up!"
Ivy cleared her throat, her bagel perched on her fingertips. "He was accused of being a witch?" she asked. "I thought you guys were really careful before the Turn."
I backed off from Jenks and took a cleansing breath. "The vamp he tagged as a blood pedophile ratted on him," I said. "Told everyone he was a witch. The ignorant SOBs cemented him into the ground alive. He's not a black witch any more than I am."
Ford's chair scraped as he rose. Grabbing his coat, he came forward as he shuffled into it. "I have to go," he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "I'll call you tomorrow and we can set up a time to do the hypnosis."
"Sure," I said absently, glaring at Jenks, glowing fiercely by the fridge.
"Pierce wanted me to tell you that he's been here since Al cracked his stone. It made a path a willing spirit could use, and he followed his thoughts back to you." Ford was smiling at me as if it was good news, but I couldn't smile back. Damn it, I had been in such a great mood, and now it was gone. First the thing with the failed earth charms, and now Jenks thought Pierce was a demon spy.
"This is bad, Ivy," Jenks said, lighting on her shoulder. "I don't like it."
My anger flared. I wanted him to shut up. "I don't care if you like it or not," I snapped. "Pierce is the first person I helped. The first person who needed me. And if he needs my help again, I'm going to give it." Frustrated, I threw a handful of ley line stuff in a drawer and shut it so hard Rex darted away.
Ford shifted from foot to foot. "I have to go."
No doubt, after my little show of temper. Jenks got in his way, and the man hesitated. "Ford," he said, sounding desperate. "Tell Rachel this is a bad idea. You don't bring back the dead. Not ever."
My heart seemed to clench, but Ford raised a placating hand. "I think it's a great idea. Pierce is not malevolent, and what harm can she do to him in one night?"
Jenks's wings hit an unreal pitch, and his sparkles sifted to gray. "I don't think you grasp the situation here," he said. "We don't know this guy from Tink! So Rachel feels sorry for him and brings him back for a night. He was buried alive in blasphemed ground. We don't know the way to bring him all the way back from the dead, but I bet a demon does. And what's to stop this guy from whispering in some demon's ear, exchanging our secrets for a new life!"
"That's enough!" I shouted. "Jenks, you need to apologize to Pierce. Right now!"
Trailing a ribbon of sparkles like a wayward sunbeam, Jenks flew to me. "I will not!" he said vehemently. "Don't do this, Rachel. You can't risk it. None of us can."
Jenks hovered before me, tense and determined. Behind him, Ivy looked at me. Suddenly, I didn't know what to say. I'd met Pierce, saved a little girl with him, but had I been looking at him through innocent, eighteen-year-old eyes, easily misled and hoodwinked?
"Jenks," Ford said, looking pained by my sudden doubt.
The small pixy darted up, his frustration obvious. "Can I talk to you in private?" he said, looking angry enough to pix the man.
Head down, Ford nodded, angling to leave the kitchen. "Let me know if you can't find the spell, Rachel, and I'll come over and you can talk to Pierce some more."
"Sure." I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against the counter. "I'd appreciate that." My jaw was clenched, and I was getting a headache. Rex followed Jenks and Ford out, and I wondered if the cat was following them, or Pierce. The sound of Ford's feet faded, and then a soft, one-sided conversation started up from the sanctuary. Ivy could probably hear Ford clearly enough to make out the words, but I couldn't, and that's all Jenks was after.
Forcing my teeth apart, I looked at Ivy across the long length of the kitchen. She had gotten out another small plate, and as I nodded sourly, she put the other half of her dinner on it and handed it to me. I stiffly took it. "You don't think this is a bad idea, do you?" I asked, and Ivy sighed, staring at nothing.
"Is it a demon curse?" she asked. "The one to give Pierce a temporary body, I mean."
My head moved back and forth, and I took a bite of bagel. "No. It's simply hard."
Her dark eyes focused on me and she lifted a thin shoulder. "Good," she said. "I think you should do it. Jenks is a paranoid old man."
Relief brought my shoulders down and I managed a thin smile. Turning my bagel to get to the side with the most cream cheese, I took a bite, and the tart tang of cheese hit my tongue. "Pierce isn't up to anything," I said as I chewed. "I just want to help him if I can. He helped me realize what I wanted to do with my life, and I sort of owe him." I looked at her, seeing her eyes distant in thought. "You know what I mean? Owing someone for changing your life in a good way?"
Her attention flicked to me. "Uh, yeah," she said, then set her plate down to go to the fridge.
"I know I can do the spell; all I need is the recipe, the equipment, and a gathering of witches to siphon off the power." I looked at my bagel and sighed. This was going to be hard.
Ivy was silent as she poured a glass of orange juice, then said softly, "I'm sorry. This means a lot to you. Jenks is being an ass. Ignore him."
I ate another bite of my bagel and said nothing. Pierce was one of the few people who knew me before I had demon marks, or smut, or anything else. I had to help him if I could.
Ivy shifted to the sink to wash the crumbs from her plate, and knowing my agitation was hard on her instincts, I slid away a few feet. "Can't you just buy the book?" she asked, gazing at the porch light shining on the snowy garden. "If it's not demon magic, it should be out there."
My head nodded. It was nice that someone didn't think Pierce was a spy. "I'm sure it is, but level-eight-hundred Arcane ley line textbooks aren't common. They usually don't show up unless someone is teaching a class. Getting one before New Year's will be a problem. That and the crucible. If Robbie doesn't know where it is, it might take months."
The front door thumped shut, and Jenks darted in with the icy scent of a summer field on a winter night. He was in a much better frame of mind, and I couldn't help but wonder what Ford had told him.
"I'm out of here," I said, snagging my bag from the far chair before Jenks could try to start a conversation. "I probably won't be back until almost four. It's going to be bad," I said around a sigh. "Robbie has a girlfriend and my mom's nuts about her."
Ivy smiled, a closed-lipped smile. "Have fun."
I glanced at her sword on the counter, thinking I'd rather go with her and face ugly vampires than my mom and Robbie and the inevitable "when are you going to settle down" conversation. "Okay. I'm out of here." I glanced around the almost-tidy kitchen, and wondered if they would think it was weird if I said 'bye to Pierce. "You going to be okay here alone with Pierce, Jenks?" I mocked as I shoved the invoked locator amulet in my bag to ask my mom about, and Jenks flashed an annoyed red.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," he muttered. "We'll have a nice chat, Mr. Ghost and me."
"A little one-sided, isn't it?" I said, and Jenks smiled, his eagerness worrying me.
"Just the way I like it. He can't talk back to me the way my kids do."
My coat and boots were in the foyer. "Call me if you need me," I said, and Ivy gave me a wave. Jenks was already on her shoulder, and the two clearly had things to discuss. Even more worrisome. Giving them a last look, I headed to the front of the church, keys jingling against my lethal-magic detector.
The pixies were busy in the corner with a terrified mouse, and ignoring the drama, I wiggled my feet into my boots and tightened them up. I shrugged into my coat, and looked out from the dark room into the shadowed sanctuary, still decorated with Ivy's Christmas stuff and my solstice things. A soft, warm feeling took me, relaxing me. I wondered if I could really smell the scent of coal dust and shoe polish, or if it was just my imagination. I hesitated when the tinkling of Rex's bell joined the noise of the pixies, and I watched her sit primly in the opening to the hallway to stare at me. Maybe she was staring at Pierce?
"'Bye, Pierce," I whispered. "Don't mind Jenks. He just wants to keep me safe." And with a small smile, I pushed open the door and headed out into the cold.