For A Few Demons More. Kim Harrison
the sting, watching a bead of red swell. “What do I do?” I asked, not liking this at all.
Blue eyes dropping, she turned my hand palm down and set it in the circle. The old oak seemed to vibrate, as if its stored life force were running through me, connecting me to the spinning of the earth and the burning of the sun. “It’s a public curse,” she said, her words falling over themselves. “The invocation phrase is mater tintinnabulum. Say it and Minias’s name in your thoughts, and the curse will put you through.”
“Don’t summon Minias,” Newt threatened, and I felt Ceri’s control over the last circle swell while the demon was distracted. “He’ll kill you faster than I will.”
“You aren’t summoning him, you’re asking for his attention,” Ceri said desperately. “The imbalance would normally go to you, but you can bargain with Newt’s location and he’ll take it. If he doesn’t, I will.”
It was a huge concession from the smut-covered elf. This was looking better and better, but the sun wasn’t up yet, and Newt looked ready to tear us apart. I didn’t think Ceri could hold her concentration much longer against a master demon. And I had to believe that the demons possessed a way to control this member of their species: otherwise they’d be dead already. If his name was Minias and he masqueraded as her familiar, then that’s the way it was.
“Hurry,” Ceri whispered, sweat tracking her face. “You’ll probably show up as an unregistered user, but unless she’s cursed him again, he’s likely looking for her and will answer.”
Unregistered? I wondered. Licking my lips, I closed my eyes. I was already connected to the line, so all that was left was invoking the curse and thinking his name. Mater tintinnabulum, Minias, I thought, not expecting anything to happen.
My breath came in a quick heave, and I felt Ceri’s hand clamp on my wrist, forcing my own to stay in the circle. A jolt of ever-after spun from me, colored with my aura. I felt it leave me like a winging bird, and I struggled to hold myself together as I saw it flee in my imagination, taking a portion of me with it.
“I won’t let him steal it from me!” Newt shouted. “It’s mine! I want it back!”
“Concentrate,” Ceri whispered, and I fell into myself, feeling that freed slice of me ring like a bell through the entirety of the ever-after. And like a ringing bell, it was answered.
I’m a little busy, came an irritated thought. Leave a message on the damned landline and I’ll get back to you.
I shuddered at the sensation of thoughts not my own curling through my mind, but Ceri kept my hand unmoving. Within Minias was a background clutter of worry, guilt, aggravation. But he had dismissed me like a telemarketer and was ready to snap the connection.
Newt, I thought. Take the imbalance for my calling you, and I’ll tell you where she is. And promise you won’t hurt us, I added. Or let her hurt us. And get her the hell out of my church!
“Hurry!” Ceri cried, and my concentration bobbled.
Done, the voice thought decisively. Minias’s worry sharpened to a point and joined mine. Where are you?
My brief elation vanished. Uh, I thought, wondering how you give directions to a demon, but Minias’s own thoughts faltered in confusion.
What the devil is she doing past the lines? It’s almost sunup.
She’s trying to kill me! I thought. Get your ass over here and collect her!
You aren’t registered. How am I supposed to know where you are? I’ll have to …
I stiffened, jerking my hand out of the circle and Ceri’s grip when the voice’s presence squeezed my thoughts harder. Gasping, I fell backward onto my butt, my body mirroring my attempt to jerk away from Minias’s presence.
“… come though on your thoughts,” a darkly mellow voice said.
“Heavenly Father, save us,” Ceri gasped.
My head spun, and I caught a glimpse of Ceri falling backward. She hit her circle, and panic iced through me when it broke in a flash of black.
Oh, God. We’re dead.
She met my gaze as she sprawled half upright on the floor, her eyes saying she thought she had killed us. Newt cried out, and I spun where I was sitting, only to freeze in shock.
Nothing stood between Newt and us now but a man, his purple robes reflecting hers in all but color. He was barefoot, and only now did I remember the flash of those robes coming between me and Ceri as he shoved the elf into the bubble to break it so he could get to Newt.
“Let me go, Minias,” Newt snarled, and my eyes widened at his thick-knuckled hand gripping her upper arm. “She has something of mine. I want it back.”
“What has she got of yours?” he asked calmly, his back to me. Newt was a head shorter than Minias, and it made her look vulnerable despite the scathing vehemence in her voice. His voice carried the intent sound of a more-than-casual question, and my eyes dropped to the grip he had on her staff, right above her hand. It never eased up, not even as his honey-amber voice spilled into the violated sanctuary like a balm. Soothing, yes, but holding tension, too.
Newt said nothing. I could see the hem of her robe past Minias tremble.
I scrambled up, Ceri finding her feet beside me. She didn’t bother to reinstate the circle. What was the point? Minias shifted to block Newt’s view. He was focused on her, but I was sure he was aware of us, and he looked like he knew what he was doing. I had yet to see his face, but his brown hair was short, the curls crushed by the same hat Newt wore.
“Breathe,” Minias said, as if trying to trigger something. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to remember,” she whispered. It was as if we weren’t even in the room anymore, so focused were they on each other, and only now did Minias’s grip become gentle.
“Then why do you—”
“Because it hurts,” she said, her bare feet shifting.
Leaning in as if concerned, he asked gently, “Why did you come here?”
She was silent, and then finally, “I don’t remember.” It was agitated—soft and threatening—and the only reason I believed her was that she had clearly forgotten before Minias had shown up.
Minias lost the last of his anger. I felt as if we were witnessing a common but seldom-seen event, and I hoped he would hold to his promise that they wouldn’t take us when they were ready to leave. “Then let’s go,” he soothed, and I wondered how much of this was caretaker and how much was simply caring. Could demons care about each other?
“Maybe you’ll remember when we get back,” he said, turning Newt as if going to lead her away. “If you forget something, you should go to where you first thought it, and it will be waiting for you.”
Newt refused to step with him, and our eyes met when Minias moved out of the way. “It’s not at home,” she said, her brow furrowed to show a deep inner pain and, under that, a seething power held in check by the demon whose grip had slid from her staff to her hand. “It’s here, not there. Whatever it is, it’s here. Or it was here. I … I know it.” Anger slipped over her brow, born from frustration. “You don’t want me to remember,” she accused.
“I don’t want you to remember?” he asked harshly, his hand falling from her and extending in demand. “Give them to me. Now.”
My gaze flicked between them. He had gone from lover to jailer in a pulse.
“I’m missing my cache of yew,” he said. “I didn’t make you forget. Give them to me.”
Newt’s lips pressed together, and spots of color appeared on her cheeks. It was