I chose a spot in the far left corner of the parking lot, away from the building, but screened completely by scrubby trees and chain-link fence. Here, the pavement appeared smooth enough for me to lay the pentacle, at least. In other spots, it lay broken and riddled with holes.
My hands trembled a little as I drew the pentagram. The chalk felt dusty on my fingertips, but when I finished I saw the shape was accurate enough to do the job. I followed up with a circle, and as I drew this time, I willed heat from my hands. Because of those long years when the touch comprised my only gift, I could not conceive of magic feeling any other way. By the time I closed the circle, my hand burned as if I had immersed it in a fire.
I dropped the chalk with a little moan and saw that my fingertips glowed orange like live coals. I had no doubt I could hurt someone with my bare hands. Perhaps not a fatal injury, but I could bestow a brand—sobering thought.
Seeing that, Shannon backed away. “Whoa, is that normal?”
“For most witches, no.” I had handicaps, but considering I’d never thought to work my mother’s spells at all, I could bear the pain. I was used to it, after all.
“What are you waiting for?” Maury demanded, as I trickled salt atop my chalk circle. This demon wasn’t going anywhere unless I willed it.
“Almost finished. But I need her name now.”
He pronounced each syllable with great care, as if caressing his absent lover. I found it oddly endearing. “Dumah Porai Valyonatha.”
“It’s been a long time since you’ve seen her.”
“Only by your standards,” he muttered. “But I have been away longer than I expected. She will be missing me.”
I tried to sound casual as I finished spreading the salt. “You could go back. I could send you.”
“I think not. Your people call my world hell for a reason.”
“Very well.” Using my athame, I cut a narrow slice in my palm and let the blood drip inside the pentagram. I was careful not to break the circle, however. “By fire, earth, wind, and rain, I call you forth, Dumah Porai Valyonatha. I offer sacrifice in your name. As I will, so mote it be. In the name of Solomon the Binder, whose blood I carry, you must obey.”
Unlike the spell I had used on Morales, this one required focus and repetition. My mother had once said: There are no true magic words, only your will behind them. Power sizzled through me, far more than I’d ever held before—more than it took to read a house or a patch of dirt. It felt as though my heart must cook inside my chest. I sent it to the circle and the salt ate it, blackening beneath the heat.
I don’t know how long I chanted, but the air churned inside the pentacle. Not like Caim’s manifestation, but it grew dark with smoke that writhed with signs of life. I saw a glimmer of eyes, a suggestion of a face.
“She’s here,” the demon breathed beside me.
Maury started to go to her, only to be brought up short by the power of my wards. I smiled. “My part of the bargain is fulfilled, and you are repaid.”
“That wasn’t the deal!”
“In fact, it was. You specified I had to summon her, not set her free.”
“No, I wouldn’t consent to that. The last part was implicit in the agreement.”
And now I gambled everything. “If you have the power, if I have invalidated our deal, kill me now. Take the knife from my wound. I’m willing to risk it.”
Long moments passed while Dumah twisted inside the circle. I hoped the confinement didn’t hurt her, but surely it couldn’t be any worse than hell. Sometimes I got a clear enough glimpse at her features in the smoke to know she longed for the creature I called Maury. I hadn’t known demons could love.
“I cannot,” it said at last. “You have satisfied the letter of our agreement if not the spirit, and so I have no power over you.”
“Since she’s here”—and I already had the darkness in my magick for other practitioners to see—“I’m willing to renegotiate.”
Maury raised both brows. “What makes you think I’d trust you now?”
“Then I’ll just banish her. I promised, as you recall, not to bind her.” Which included forcing her to obey me. It didn’t include sending her home. Maybe Solomon’s blood ran in my veins after all; I’d used the claim to power a spell, and I seemed to own a knack for dealing with demons.
“Wait,” he said. “Present your offer.”
“You swear on her name that you will do no real harm while you linger here. Mischief and misfortune I can abide, but no death. No permanent damage.”
“Can we cost a rich man his gold?”
I didn’t need to think very long on that. “Absolutely. Limit your pranks to people who deserve it, and you’ll have no quarrel with me.”
“Oh, priceless,” he said. “You would use two demons as angels of vengeance.”
“Weren’t you angels once?” Shannon asked timidly.
“No, my dear. That is yet one more inaccuracy in your history.”
“It’s not history,” I felt compelled to point out, “so much as religious myth.”
“Whatever. It’s wrong. Will you let Dumah go now?”
I grinned. “Nice try. You agreed, but you haven’t yet sworn on her name. I won’t be defeated by loopholes tonight.”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “I swear by Dumah Porai Valyonatha and my love for her that we will restrict our attention to those who deserve it and cause no death while we’re here.” Maury stalked away and gave me his back, doubtless telling me he was pissed I’d gotten the best of him this time.
“Then we have a deal.” I rubbed my foot across the lines of salt and chalk, blurring it so the demon could escape.
The subsequent rupture surprised me and blew us back a good ten feet. I lay there, dazed and bruised, with my head on the pavement. Holy shit, what was that? A dark force, smelling of cinder and smoke, writhed above me. Was Dumah laughing?
Maury certainly was. “Oh, poor fledgling witch. I forgot nobody ever told you to drain the power from the wards before you break a field.”
Head throbbing, I crawled over to where Shannon lay. She looked impossibly pale, and a bruise was already forming on the side of her face. For a moment, she didn’t seem to be breathing, and I went from worried to frantic in 3.4 seconds.
“Shan?” I felt for a pulse and found one.
Thank all gods and goddesses.
“Did you get the number of that truck?” she mumbled, opening her eyes.
“It’s my fault. I got cocky. A few hours with the grimoires and I thought I knew something. God, I’m sorry. How much does it hurt?” I felt her head gingerly and discovered a lump the size of an egg.
“A lot. But I can deal. I’m thinking we should hose off the parking lot and get back inside, though.”
I should’ve thought of that. The ending of the ritual had scrambled my brains. I couldn’t leave my blood out here undiluted. Though it was a long shot anybody who meant me ill would stumble across it, it was possible Montoya’s sorcerer could use it to pinpoint my location somehow. I had no idea what he might’ve learned in the islands; what I’d seen from him so far was powerful and terrifying. After I pulled Shannon to her feet, we stumbled toward the building.
We looked for a hose and didn’t find one, so we wound up ferrying buckets of water to toss over the messy mixture of salt, chalk dust, and blood. Once we’d wet it all down, I swept it into a paste and then dumped another batch of water on it. More sweeping. If anyone could tell in the morning what we’d been doing here, I’d be greatly surprised. More important, the mixture rendered my blood unusable.
“That should do it. Let’s get you an ice pack and some Aleve.” I’d started carrying the stuff in my bag because sometimes—after I’d handled my mother’s necklace and my power changed—the burns hurt too much to bear, even though they no longer left new scars.
“I’ll live,” she said.
“This time.” I had to stop putting her at risk. Maybe I should put her on a bus, even if she didn’t want to go. Before it was too late. “Look, Shan, I really think—”