The Summoner. Alisha Steele
that Alex actually worked better when surrounded by chaos. “Nah,” she said. “I’m more interested in the Goddess-Mother aspect. The energy in all living things and how we relate to it…you know.”
Actually, Alex didn’t know, but she was damned sure going to find out.
“But Mel’s the real deal,” Rose continued, oblivious to her friend’s coiled tension. “Spells, séances, tarot—she does ’em all.”
“Spells.” Alex uttered an artificial little laugh that earned her yet another puzzled glance. That had to be a record for strange looks in one day. “Hmph. Still, give me her address and I’ll pop over. I could really use some sleep.”
“Sure.” Rose peeled off a Post-it and scribbled down the address.
“Thanks.” Alex snatched at the little yellow piece of paper, standing up so fast that her chair flew backward and careened into the wall.
Rose’s mouth was a moue of surprise. “You’re going right now?” It was one thirty in the afternoon.
“Yeah, I thought I’d—” Alex’s head fell back into her shoulders and her eyes squeezed shut in annoyance. “Oh shit. The grant!”
Rose laughed. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll do it. You really must be tired to have forgotten about our funding for the next twelve months. I don’t know why you didn’t just ask me in the first place. You hate the bureaucratic crap.”
“I do, but I was trying to be responsible.”
Rose smirked and shook her head as she slid into Alex’s chair, pulling it up to the computer. “Dumb ass,” she said affectionately.
“That’s Mr. Dumb Ass to you.” Alex leaned over and pecked her friend’s cheek. “Thanks, babe. I owe ya.”
“You always do.”
* * * *
The shop was a tiny hole-in-the-wall sandwiched between a kosher deli and a secondhand clothing store. Alex had driven past it twice before she’d finally clued in that the psychedelic lettering reading “Magik” wasn’t graffiti after all, but the actual name of the place. Why on earth hadn’t Rose jotted down that vital piece of information when she’d given her the address?
Alex circled the block several times looking for a parking spot even remotely close when, like a gift from Heaven, a big blue Buick pulled away from the curb right in front of the deli. “Providence,” she muttered, slipping her black bug into the spot.
When she got out of the car, she smoothed her denim mini-skirt and, for reasons known only to her subconscious, fastened the top two buttons of her cream blouse. She inexplicably felt like a job applicant going to her first interview; the same trembling feeling was weakening her knees. But she bolstered her resolve, flicked her shiny hair over her shoulder and marched up to the door. She needed help and this might be where she could find it. ’Nuff said.
Sound was the first sense stroked as she stepped into the dim, cluttered store and the melodious tinkle of moon chimes greeted her entrance. Smell was next. Alex shut her eyes, inhaling the delicious aroma of rare herbs, old books and rich incense. It brought to mind Kasdeya’s musky cinnamon scent and her eyes snapped open at the reminder of her reason for being here.
Her pupils had expanded enough for her to see the shadowy interior passably well. Alex made some small sound of delight, moving away from the door to run exploratory fingers over the purple crushed velvet covering the display tables, where she spied a lovely mortar and pestle in black marble shot through with veins of red. She’d always wanted a mortar and pestle, though she had no idea of what she might actually grind up with it. They’d just always looked so exotic, so ceremonial to her.
She picked up a silver Celtic cross that easily filled the span of her palm. Alex traced the intricate curves, lost in the elaborate beauty of the ancient design. When her gaze strayed to a scrying mirror hanging on the wall to her right, Kasdeya was in immediate attendance, grinning at her. Alex started so violently at the unexpected vision that the cross slipped from her hand and landed with a heavy thud on the planked floor. She gasped and hurried to pick up the pendant, searching it anxiously for damage.
“No harm done, I’m sure,” said someone with a deep feminine voice from the rear of the shop. “That thing could take a bomb blast and not be hurt.” The crystal curtain separating the retail area from the storage was pushed aside by a long, red-taloned hand.
Mesmerized, Alex watched as the woman stepped through the glittering drape. She was so…unusual looking. Tight dark-auburn ringlets framed a heart-shaped face. Her lips were thin but painted such a striking, deep crimson that they almost seemed to precede her, drawing one’s eyes to the decadent contrast between them and her pale, white skin. Almond eyes sparkled with amusement at Alex’s slack-jawed expression.
But it wasn’t her face—as interesting as it was—that had caused Alex’s jaw to drop. It was her attire. A thick black choker sporting an enormous green, red-flecked stone was at her throat. A dark emerald-green corset cinched her waist to impossibly small measurements and thrust out her bosom. A matching skirt of plush velour fell in intricate pleats to the floor. It split up the length of her thigh as she moved further into the room. Alex was desperate to know where one could acquire such a gorgeous, erotic outfit.
The woman laughed and angled her head in acknowledgment of the admiration in Alex’s eyes. “The name’s Melynda, and the answer to your next question is eBay,” she said. “I shop at a store called Darker Pleasures on eBay. I’ll give you their card. Now what can I do for you today?”
Alex carefully laid the cross down in its nest of purple velvet as she considered her response. How exactly did you ask someone how to get rid of a demon? But first, just in case Rose checked up on her, Alex dutifully inquired about natural remedies for sleeplessness, mentioning her friend’s name in case Rose got a discount for referrals. In response, Alex was given a tea with valerian root and catnip, of all things. She stood at the counter as her purchase was rung up, still having come to no logical way to ease the question into normal conversation.
Melynda saved her the trouble. “So,” she said, handing over Alex’s change before leaning her hip casually against the counter, “wanna cut the crap and tell me what you really came here for?”
Alex tucked her purchase into her purse and then slowly looked back up. Then she figured that if Melynda could be blunt, she could too. “I was wondering if you could give me any information on how to…umm…how to unsummon—”
“Banish,” the dark-haired woman interjected.
“Right. Uh, how to banish a demon.”
Melynda tapped thoughtfully at her lower lip with one two-inch red nail. “What spell did you use to conjure the demon?”
“No spell.” Alex hastened to assure. “At least I don’t think it was a spell. All I said was ‘I summon you.’”
Melynda’s dark brows rose in obvious astonishment. “I summon you,” she repeated. “That’s it? No conjuring circle? No blood? Nothing?”
Alex shrugged. “Nope, nothing else. And now he won’t…”
Her words faded as Melynda raised her finger for silence and slid back through the curtain. She returned a moment later bearing a tome as large as her torso. The smell of antique leather and rotting parchment drifted up from the crackling pages as she rifled through the grimoire. “Summon,” she muttered. “Summon, summon… ‘Summoner.’” She read the passage quickly and then lifted her head to regard Alex with unabashed delight. “Tell me, Miss…”
“Alexandra,” Alex said, not entirely sure why she gave the more formal version of her name.
Melynda grinned at her as she carefully closed the book. “Tell me, Alexandra, are you, by chance, a Summoner?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Did the demon