For A Few Demons More. Kim Harrison
me. It was going to look like crap. I knew it.
“The wine is a carrier for the invocation blood, also washing the salt off the mirror when you’re done,” Ceri said, and my gaze went to the bucket, now understanding why she’d brought it out. “The salt acts as a leveler, removing the excess intent in the lines you scribe in the glass as well as bringing the acidic content of the yew back to a neutral state.”
“Yew is toxic, not acidic,” I said, and she nodded apologetically.
“But it will etch the glass once you coat it in your aura.”
Euwie. It was one of those curses. Great. “I’m sorry for barking at you,” I said softly, my gaze flicking to her and away. “I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t like it.”
She smiled and leaned across the table between us. “Would you like to know the meaning behind the symbols?”
I nodded, feeling my tension ease. If I was going to do this, I really ought to.
“They are pictorial representations of ley line gestures,” she said, her hand moving as if signing in American Sign Language. “See?”
She made a fist, her thumb tight to her curled index finger, angling her hand so that her thumb pointed to the ceiling. “This is the first one,” she added, then pointed to the first symbol on the cheat sheet lying on the table. It was a circle bisected by a vertical line. “The thumb’s position is indicated by the line,” she added.
I looked from the figure to my fist, turning my hand until they matched. Okay.
“This is the second one,” she said, making the “okay” sign, angling her hand so the back of it was parallel with the floor.
I mimicked her, feeling a stirring of understanding as I looked at the circle with three lines coming out the right side. My thumb and index finger made a circle, my three fingers stretching out like the lines fanned out from the figure’s right side. I glanced at the next figure of a circle with a horizontal line, and before she could shift her fingers, I made a fist, turning my hand so my thumb was parallel to the floor.
“Yes!” Ceri said, following the gesture with her own. “And the next would be …?”
Thinking, I compressed my lips and stared at the symbol. It looked like the previous one, with a finger coming out one side. “Index finger?” I guessed, and when she nodded, I stuck a finger out, earning a smile.
“Exactly. Try making the gesture with your pinkie, and you can see how wrong it feels.”
I tucked my index finger back and stuck out my pinkie. It did feel wrong, so I went back to the proper gesture. “And this one?” I asked as I looked at the figure in the last space. There was a circle, so I knew that something was touching my thumb, but which finger?
“Middle one,” Ceri offered, and I made the gesture, grinning.
She leaned back, still smiling. “Let’s see them.”
More confident now, I made the five gestures, reading them as I traveled around the pentagram clockwise. This wasn’t so hard.
“And this middle figure?” I asked, looking at the long baseline with three rays coming up from the center equidistant from each other. It was where my hand had been when I contacted Minias earlier, and by the looks of it, my fingertips would hit the ends of the lines.
“That’s the symbol for an open connection,” she said. “As if an open hand.” The inner circle touching the pentagram is our reality, and the outer circle is the ever-after. You’re bridging the gap with your open hand. There is an alternate pattern with a series of symbols scribed between the two circles that will hide your location and identity, but it’s more difficult.”
Jenks snickered, still trying to scrape honey off Ceri’s spoon. “I bet it’s harder, too,” he said. “And we do want to finish before the sun comes up.”
I ignored him, feeling like I might be starting to understand this.
“And the pentagram is simply to give structure to the curse,” Ceri added, trashing my good mood. Oh, yeah. I forgot it was a curse. Mmmm, goody.
Seeing my grimace, Ceri leaned over the table and touched my arm. “It is a very small curse,” she said, her attempt to console me making things worse. “It’s not evil. You’re disturbing reality, and it leaves a mark, but truly, Rachel, this is a small thing.”
It’s going to lead to worse, I thought, then forced a smile. Ceri didn’t have to help me with this. I should be thankful. “Okay, pentagram first.”
Wings clattering, Jenks landed on the glass, shivering once before he put his hands on his hips and peered up at me. “Start here,” he said, walking away, “and just follow me.”
I looked at Ceri to see if this was allowed, and she nodded. My shoulders eased, then tightened. The chalk felt almost slippery as it skated over the mirror, like a wax pencil on hot stone. I held my breath waiting for a tingling of rising power, but there was nothing.
“Now over here,” Jenks said when he lifted into the air and dropped down at a new spot.
I played connect the dots, my lip finding its way between my teeth until a pentagram took up nearly the entire mirror. My back was feeling the strain, and I straightened. “Thanks, Jenks,” I said, and he lifted up, his complexion red.
“No prob,” he said as he went to sit on Ceri’s shoulder.
“Now the symbols,” Ceri prompted, and I reached for the top triangle, being careful not to smear my other lines. “Not that one!” she exclaimed before the chalk could touch the glass, and I jumped. “The lower left,” she added, smiling to soften her voice. “When you scribe, you want to rise clockwise.” She made a fist, her eyes going to the cheat sheet. “This one first.”
I glanced at the diagram, then the pentagram. Taking a breath, I held the chalk tighter.
“Just draw it, Rache,” Jenks complained, and as the hush of cars shushing against wet pavement soothed me, I sketched them all, my hand becoming more sure with each figure.
“As good as I,” Ceri praised, and I leaned back and let my breath slip from me.
Setting the chalk down, I shook out my hand. It was only a few figures, but my hand was starting to ache. I glanced at the yew, and Ceri nodded once. “It should etch the glass if you tap a line and let your aura slip into the glass,” she said, and my face scrunched up.
“Do I have to?” I asked, remembering the sinking, uncomfortable feeling of my aura stripping away. Then I looked over the church. “Shouldn’t I be in a circle?”
Ceri’s hair floated when she leaned to stack our plates up. “No. The mirror isn’t going to take it all, just a slip of it. No harm in that.”
She seemed confident, but still … I didn’t like losing any of my aura. And what if Minias showed up or called in the meantime?
“Oh, for the love of little green apples,” Ceri said darkly. “If it will make this any faster.”
I winced, feeling like a chicken, then jumped when she tapped the line out back and, with a word of muttered Latin, set a loose circle. Jenks’s wings hit a still-higher pitch when the large bubble of black-coated ever-after shimmered into existence around us. Ceri was at the exact center, as was the way with undrawn circles, and I could feel the pressure of ever-after against my back. I scooted forward, and Jenks’s wings hit a still-higher pitch. He finally settled himself on the table by the salt. I knew he didn’t like being trapped, but after seeing Ceri’s impatience, I decided Jenks was a big boy and could ask to be let out himself if it bothered him that much.
Ceri’s circle was held with only her will, completely undrawn and entirely from her imagination. It wouldn’t hold a demon, but all I wanted was something to keep nebulous influences out while my aura was