“I’ll go with her,” Jenks said, but he halted his mad dash when I cleared my throat.
“Hey, will you ask Edden if he’s had any complaints about three living vamps in a brown Volvo?”
Jenks’s impatience faltered, and he hovered closer. “The ones at the storefront?” he asked, and I nodded. “Sure. They were at Stef’s apartment, too. Haven’t seen them here, though.”
And then he was gone, startling Stef as he hovered over her shoulder to light her way as he had for me so many times before. Slowly my smile faded, and alone—as a demon often is—I spoke the words to finish the curse.
CHAPTER
7
“So how’s their security?” I said, almost shouting since my phone was on speaker, way across the belfry on one of the sunlit window ledges. “Any more issues?”
“No. Flight was good.” Trent’s tone was light, the musical lilt that had first attracted me obvious even through the tiny speaker. “Quen has been out here before with the girls, so their security only needed a few tweaks to satisfy him. He’s finally sleeping,” he added with a small chuckle.
My head bobbed as I continued to search the cardboard box on the floor, fingers tracing the spines of my mundane spelling books sandwiched between my, ah, curse tomes. “He’s careful,” I said, then smiled as I found the one I’d been looking for and took it with me to sit on a box in the sun. The bright octagon room was nice with the windows open, the sound of distant traffic reminiscent of a waterfall.
“Where are you?” Trent asked suddenly. “Outside? I can hear birds.”
“Belfry.” Head down, I thumbed through the book’s index. “Looking for a spell. One of your mom’s,” I added, grimacing as I remembered Hodin’s visit. But what Dali didn’t know about me talking to Hodin wouldn’t get me in trouble. He was like the bad boyfriend your parents forbid you to date—not simply because he practiced elven magic, but for something else I hadn’t parsed out quite yet.
“Really? Which one?” Trent asked, his pleasure obvious.
“Ah . . .” I flipped back a page. “Auditory Announcement of Demonic Presence,” I said. “I’m going to put it on the steeple bell so I can hear it even if I’m in the garden.”
“I thought you were selling the church,” Trent said, and my breath caught. Damn it, I hadn’t wanted him to know I’d been kicked out of Piscary’s, and now I had to explain.
“We are.” I rose, open book tucked under my arm as I dragged a closed box directly under the steeple. “But Jenks and I will be here a couple of weeks.” I hesitated. “Constance moved up everyone’s eviction notice. We’ve got a faire of pixies in the garden and a nurse from the hospital bunking in Ivy’s old room.”
I bit my lower lip, unable to bring myself to tell him that Jenks and I had lost another property. I didn’t care if it was Constance’s fault. He’d only ask why I didn’t move in with him.
“Oh,” he said, his unspoken question obvious. “How did the property hunt go yesterday? I saw the pictures. It looks great.”
I stood on the box, stretching to reach the bell. My fingers grazed the old iron, and a shiver ran through me. “It looked good at first, but I’m not sure downtown is the right place,” I said evasively. “Too much collateral damage if something untoward happens.”
He was silent. My hand slipped from the bell. Don’t ask. Please don’t. “Ah, Hodin showed up last night,” I blurted to change the subject. “He’s been at the church for months. Jenks kicked him out, but I want to know if he comes back.”
“Gotcha.”
His words were soft, and I quashed a flicker of guilt. He wanted to help, but his estate was too far away to be anything but a gilded prison. His mom had found that out, but back in the sixties, a wealthy woman did not publicly work unless it was for a charity. Trent was still trying to get her first name added to the spells she’d developed. Most were registered only as Kalamack, and everyone believed them to be his father’s.
“Am I hearing water?” I asked as Lucy’s shrill cries and splashing became obvious.
“Beach,” Trent said simply, and I could hear his contentment. “I’d forgotten how nice it is out here before it gets busy.”
“Sounds idyllic.”
“Hey, I offered you a seat,” he said, and I chuckled, my envy vanishing as I imagined that Ellasbeth had taken the opportunity to put on a bikini, but maybe not. It was, like, eight in the morning out there.
“Do you need to go?” I asked as I stood on the box and read over the simple phrase to invoke the charm.
“No. Ellasbeth and her mom are with the girls. They aren’t far. Is Jenks with you?”
I smiled at the concern in his voice. “Not far,” I echoed, then tapped a ley line, eyes closing as it spilled into me like the summer sun. “It’s an elven charm, but I don’t need to call on the Goddess directly, so there shouldn’t be a problem.” I hesitated. “You want to listen in?”
“Yes,” he said, so fast that I had to smile.
“Okay, tell me if I get the pronunciation wrong,” I said as I touched the bell, the book splayed open on my other hand. “Ta na shay, evoulumn,” I said boldly as I imagined a circle large enough to encompass the church and most of the grounds.
With a delicious whoosh of power, I felt the large circle form, rising up from the earth where I had paced out a Jenks-assisted, perfect circle earlier that morning. Ten pounds of salt marked our path, and the molecule-thin barrier sprang up, arching high above the church, enclosing it in a force that would keep out all but the most determined unless they used the sewer, gas, or cable line to break it. I smiled, pleased with myself. The directions said this needed a group of elves to work, but I could hold a circle large enough by myself.
From outside came a shrill piping of alarm. Sorry, I thought, but the circle wouldn’t be there long. And besides, Jenks knew. He’d calm them down.
My hand pressed the bell more firmly, filling me with the chill of cold iron never having seen the sun. The warmth of the ley line raced over my skin, and the two sensations mixed in an unreal, uncomfortable feeling. “Rona beal, rona beal, da so demona bea. Ta na shay,” I said, my hand cramping when the bell silently resonated. Three distinctive pulses radiated out from the bell, pushing my hair back with the force of the charm. It echoed out from me, racing to find the interior of my circle, where it soaked in, carrying the spell with it.
Until finally, it died away with the feeling of cold metal and warm sun.
I pulled my aching hand from the bell and dropped the ley line. Elven magic was stronger than demon, much as the demons hated to admit it. It would remain so until demons got over their eon-long sulk and once again called on the Goddess to supplement their power as did the elves. I was starting to doubt that it would ever happen outside of Hodin and myself. The two magics were really one and the same. But whereas elven magic was stronger, demon magic was more reliable. If you call on a deity to strengthen your spell, you might not like how she accomplishes it. It made elven magic unsettlingly unpredictable in the more complicated charms. This one, though, was really basic.