Darien hefted the bags of chalk in his hands. “Right.”
“And go easy on the chalk. The circle’s going to be a hell of a size.” Silas swung his door open. “Let’s go.”
Darien hung back with Jasper and let Silas lead them to the hedge, not the road. Close up, they could peer through the gaps between the cedars, and Silas waved them close. “There,” he whispered. “Under that window, Jasper, start your section there at the back. Darien, can you head around and start at the corner on the other side?”
“Sure, but not without being seen.”
Jasper murmured, “Jog past on the road like you’re exercising, then go down the other side?”
“Could work.” Darien looked around, judging distances. “Give me five minutes.”
Silas’s hand on his wrist was warm enough to startle him. “Shields up. Be careful.”
“Hell, yeah.” He backed away from them, jogged up to the road, and got himself into a nice even stride as he passed the hedge, swinging his arms like one of the track team on a training run, resisting the impulse to look over at the small white house he spotted out of the corner of his eye. His feet hit the gravel shoulder steadily and he kept his shields pulled down just below his skin, even though the thought of a demon’s gaze made his skin crawl. There was a similar hedge on the opposite side, and he passed it, till the house was out of sight, then doubled back down along in its shadow.
Through the dusky green fronds and thick stems, he caught sight of Silas heading for the front corner of the house. He pushed between the bushes, smelling that distinct crushed cedar aroma, and sprinted for the nearest wall, slipping a little as the melting snow shifted under his shoes. Reaching the house, he put his back close to the siding without touching it and caught his breath, listening. Nothing attacked him. There was no gleeful murmur, no dark laugh— Zaruda muttering, “Make sure I don’t have to deal out pain—”
He shook off the memory and opened the first chalk bag. Widdershins was counterclockwise. Contain was… oh, yeah. He started dribbling the powdered chalk in a thin line along the house, swooping through the curves of the rune every two feet. Halfway along the back, he had to switch to the new bag. The chalk line lay on the snowy ground, unmagical and inert until he rounded the corner and linked his piece to Jasper’s. As their sketched runes met, he could feel a tug of magic potential building. Tying off the bag, he stuffed the remains in his pocket and eased toward the front. He spotted Grim and Pip hiding under a bush near the front door. From the far corner, Silas approached, pouring out his piece of the circle, nearing the walkway where he’d left off from this side—
The front door slammed open loudly. Silas leaped toward the base of the steps and held up his hands, a shimmer of green shield in front of him, chalk bag dangling from his wrist. “Who are you?”
The old woman on the doorstep snapped, “I might ask you the same thing. This is my house and you’re not invited.”
Darien faded back several steps and crossed behind Silas, heading for where he’d left his circle unfinished. Jasper, standing at the corner, held up an empty bag, but Darien had enough left to link up to Silas’s work and keep the rune chain growing.
“Did you invite the demon in?” Silas asked.
“Demon?” The old woman laughed. “You’re crazy. I sell potions, herbals, a little honey mead to make you sleep, tansy and lemon to ward off bedbugs, lavender and valerian for calming.”
“Then why does your house reek of balefire?”
“Reek?” The woman sniffed, an expression that somehow sat oddly on her face. “Must be the—” A whip of demon power lashed from her hand toward Silas and splashed off his shields, red and green sparking into black. Silas pushed his shields wider and the woman took one step back.
Darien hurried, closing the last gap across the walkway with the rune-circle. The last five feet of space were finished, but he hadn’t learned the details of Silas’s demon circle locks, or the way he tailored them to the situation. Darien looped another contain and hesitated. The old-lady demon flicked a blast of power his way but Silas stepped between them, shield still in place. When the onslaught paused, Silas retreated in small backward steps till he passed through the gap in the circle, stopping just barely outside where the lock should be. The demon focused on him again, splashing power across his shields.
“Can you finish this?” Darien asked him.
“Not right now.” Silas swayed under the press of the demon’s attack, though he didn’t sound strained.
Grim dashed out from under the bush to Darien’s feet. “Give me that. Carefully.” Darien passed the last of the chalk to Grim, holding the bag as the cat settled his jaw around it, funnel corner up. Grim lowered his head and slowly trickled the locking lines into place an inch in front of Silas’s shoes. Darien added his power to the circle, the gold of his magic waiting, humming, ready to be engaged. He felt the jolt of potential as Grim closed the last loop of the lock. Silas suddenly gestured down with a brilliant flash of green and their combined power poured into the chalk lines, raced the circumference of the house, and sprang into shimmering walls, closing with a snap in front of Silas’s face.
“Who are you?” The old woman’s voice dropped and roughened. “Who?” She came down the steps and set both hands against the circle, pushing hard. The walls barely sparked under her palms, although Darien smelled, or maybe tasted, an acrid scorch, somewhere inside his power.
Silas said, “The better question is, who are you? How did you get here? Who summoned you?”
She raised her chin to stare up at him. “Necromancer. Which necromancer are you? Stillwine?”
Silas laughed. “No. Who summoned you? Answer me.” He pushed a pulse of magic through the circle walls hard enough to jolt her back.
“Strong necromancer.” A smile ran across the woman’s wrinkled face, avid and sharp. “You’d be stronger with my help.”
“I want answers.”
“What will you give me for them?” She folded her arms. “I’m doing no harm. This old bag is nothing without me. Leave me with her and I’ll answer two questions.”
“She didn’t summon you.” Silas made that sound certain.
The demon laughed. “She couldn’t summon a chambermaid with a bell-rope. Just my luck.”
“Who did?”
“Do we have a deal?”
“No deal,” Silas said. “I’m not letting you stay. But I’ll offer this. No thousand-year binding. I send you home, but free to return if you find a way. In exchange for two full answers.”
The demon leaned against the circle, pushing harder, a frown creasing the deep lines on her forehead. Silas hooked a thumb into his pocket and stood nonchalantly, a pose that said, “I can do this all day.” Little flickers of black and red leaped from the demon’s hands around the circle wall but faded and died in the span of a few feet. Silas clearly didn’t need Darien’s power for this one, but Darien couldn’t resist pushing his share of the circle out in a little crested wave that shoved at the demon’s hip, knocking her back two steps.
He immediately sucked the power back into the wall and gave Silas a “who, me?” look in response to his glance. Silas shook his head, but Darien saw his lips twitch.