“Hold off on the theorem talk a minute,” Lily said.
“What kind of risks are we talking about if you tinker with the spell? What advantages?”
“Ritual. Magic on this level requires a ritual, not just a spell.”
“Whatever. Risks and advantages, Cullen.”
“The major risk is that the ritual won’t work. We don’t get a gate. In which case we can back up and try again with the unaltered ritual.”
“Maybe,” Cynna said dryly. “If we all survive. We’re talking about a major ritual here, involving forces we don’t understand. There’s no sure way to predict the outcome.”
Lily frowned. “That’s a big risk.”
“And the advantage,” Cullen said, “is that if it works we’d have full control of the gate and who and what passes through it.”
She was silent a moment. Cynna and Cullen had needled each other about all the demons who weren’t ravaging the countryside, but if they opened a gate they couldn’t control… “That’s a big advantage. Big enough to outweigh the risks—if this multi-relevance thing is possible.”
He switched lanes with typical split-second timing. “Let’s go back to the basics. You know gates are magical constructs, right? Located on or very near a node.”
“Got that. The Azá were trying to open theirs right on top of a node. They needed the power from it.”
“In part, yes. But nodes are also the places of greatest congruence. Think of them as spots where the realms almost touch. Now, magically speaking, congruence is one of the five fields of relevance. It’s spatial. There’s also physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual.”
Lily shook her head. “I’m getting dizzy already. I thought spiritual stuff and magic were different. That’s how Nettie was able to do some healing on me—because she wasn’t using straight magic.”
“Depends on who you talk to. Theories abound.”
“Such as?”
“My early training was Wiccan. They consider spirit one of the five types of power—earth, air. fire, water, spirit. Chinese practitioners work with five energies, too, though they substitute metal for spirit and see the spiritual as entirely separate. So do many Protestant faiths. Catholicism is hopelessly muddled on the subject. Most shamans say there is a difference between spirit and magic but just smile mysteriously if you ask what it is.”
“Like Nettie.”
“Exactly. Houngans and mambos—‘”
“Who?”
“Male and female voodoo priests. Their magic is spirit-based, so naturally they don’t distinguish between magic and spirit. And Buddhists…” He shrugged and added in a singsong, “Spiritual, nonspiritual—no difference. Duality is illusion.”
Cynna chuckled. “I used to know someone who would have said just that.”
Lily drummed her fingers on her thigh. “They can’t all be right. What do sorcerers say?”
“Mostly we ignore the question. Spiritualism has that good and evil thing going on. Confuses things.”
“And sorcerers hate to be confused,” Cynna said. “They can’t see spiritual stuff, so they treat it the way ungifted humans treat magic—as if it isn’t real. And if it is, it shouldn’t be.”
Cullen gave a quick laugh. “Biased, but not completely inaccurate. Of course, the Msaidizi were faith based.”
“The what?” Lily asked.
“Dizzies.”
Oh. “What does this have to do with a hellgate?”
“The gates are magical constructs, like I said, but they were closed using a combination of spiritual and magical energies. To reopen a gate, we’d need spiritual energy as well as magic.”
“That’s what the Azá were doing, wasn’t it? They believed in their goddess, and that belief was part of what
She needed to get that gate open.“ That plus a little bonus from death magic.
“Exactly. We can’t supply a large faith-based community, so even if we knew how, we couldn’t reopen a gate.”
“But you’re planning to open one.”
“Open, not reopen. We’ll have to build a new gate. Cynna and I have been arguing about how to, ah, tether it. She thinks congruence is the only criteria. I agree it’s essential—we don’t want to step out into thin air or the middle of a mountain, so the two spaces have to be congruent. But I think that with a small gate, other relevancies can be used, too.”
Cynna spoke. “He means you.”
“What?” She shook her head. “That’s a joke, right?”
“Nope.” Cullen slowed. They’d reached her apartment complex. “Five fields of relevance, remember? Spatial, physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual. The more fields we use, the more stable the gate and the greater our control.”
“Theoretically,” Cynna added darkly.
Cullen ignored that. “The mate bond gives us two more fields to use—physical and emotional.”
“I… see. Sort of. Because Rule’s there and I’m here, the mate bond is already sort of a gate. But once I’m there, too, that won’t be true.”
“That’s why you need me,” Cullen said cheerfully, pulling into the space next to Lily’s car. “To figure out the hard parts. If I get it right, the gate will close behind us as soon as we cross. It will open again when you want it to, and nothing will be able to pass through it without your permission.”
Whew. Lily ran a hand through her hair. “What happens if I’m killed?”
‘Try to avoid that.“ He shut off the engine and opened his door. ”It’s a damned good way of keeping the other side from making use of our gate, though, isn’t it?“
“Theoretically.” She pushed her door open, too, and got out. The burn throbbed, protesting the pressure from the belt. She eyed the stairs to her apartment grimly and started forward. “You’ve convinced me it’s worth a try, though.”
‘i knew you’d see sense.“ She heard the click-click from the car’s lock behind her. ”If it’s any consolation, I couldn’t do it if you still had your Gift.“
She acknowledged that with a nod. She wasn’t ready to look on the bright side.
“If you were still Gifted, it might not have been a good idea for you to cross,” Cynna added, coming around the car. “Considering what they say about sensitives in hell.”
“What do they—hey!”
Cullen had swung her up into his arms. “Who says I’m not a thoughtful and considerate guy? You don’t need to climb those stairs. All right,” he added to Cynna as he headed for the stairs. “I’ll bite. What do they say about sensitives in hell?”
“ ‘Feendly armies in foul affray dide fighte,’” she recited, “‘ ’for who wolde holde the sixewitte hral. Bihood thes brutall beistis, who wolde their yvel powers incresen—and drinken of hir precious herte blood!‘ Here, give me your keys. I’ll go ahead and open the door.”
Lily dug them out of the side pocket of her purse. “I don’t know what you said, but I didn’t hear anything about sensitives.”
“Sixewitte was the medieval term.” Cullen started up the stairs behind Cynna. “The five senses were the five wittes. The way they saw it, sensitives had a sixth sense. Sixewitte.”
“Ah… if I caught the gist, that’s whose ‘precious herte blood’ the feendly hordes planned to drink.”
“You got it,” Cynna said, sticking Lily’s key in the lock. “Feendly hordes being demons. Supposedly they get some special power from the blood of a sensitive.”
Cullen reached the landing. He wasn’t even breathing hard. Pretty good for someone pushing sixty. “I’ve never heard that verse. What’s it from?”
“ ‘The Furiel Pyne of Helle.’ It’s pretty obscure. Fourteenth century, and it might be pure fiction, but the monk who—oh. Good grief. What are you doing here?”