“Are you sure?” Silas pressed. “You had access to its thoughts, its plans—”
“No!” She shook her head violently, her loosened hair whipping. “Nothing.”
“All right.” He stepped back, raising his hands. “We’ll get out of your space now. There’s another demon—”
“Another! Dear god!”
“Not close by,” Darien hurried to tell her. He totally understood her panic. “Nowhere near here. But we need to find it too.”
“Will you banish it?”
“If we can,” Silas said.
“He’s being modest,” Darien added. True or not, she needed the reassurance or she might never sleep again. Nights propping my eyelids open, biting my tongue, knowing that when I failed, the next invader might find me. “He’ll pound it into the dirt and send it screaming back to mama.”
A little of the strain eased in Granny Abels’ face. “Do demons have mothers?”
“Figure of speech. Although that’s a good question. I wonder?” He raised an eyebrow at Silas who shook his head, then at Jasper.
“The prevailing theory is that they grow by fission, like an amoeba,” Jasper said.
“Which is irrelevant.” Grim’s voice still held that otherworldly echo. “Granny, mistress, you made a potion days ago, on impulse, and put it in a brown glass bottle.”
She straightened and stared down at the cat. “How did you know?”
“I Saw it. You didn’t know why, but you made it for Silas and Darien.”
“I did?” She looked back and forth from Silas to Darien to her kitchen. “The recipe came to me like a dream…” She pushed up out of her chair, flinching away from Silas’s quick reach for her elbow. “Let me get it.” Her steps to the kitchen counter were slow but steady, and she reached high on an open shelf for a small bottle with a wooden cork. “Here it is.”
“What’s in it?” Darien asked.
“Ginseng, sage, mint, rosemary, lavender, valerian, red wine, black salt.” She lifted the bottle to the light, tipping it to see the shift of liquid through the brown glass. “I don’t remember it all. A strengthening tonic, maybe, to expand the mind, boiled down to a syrup. Something new…”
“You made it for Silas and Darien,” Grim said. “As a thank you.”
“I… how…?” She shook her head but held out the bottle, voice dry as dust. “Apparently this is for you, young man.”
Power swirled in that kitchen, something thick and ruby-red like old wine. Darien would’ve worried, but Grim pushed up on his hind legs, almost purring approval. The nine steps Darien took to reach the old herbwife dragged slowly, like moving through molasses. And then his fingers closed on the glass of the bottle, and time snapped back to normal. She let go, and he turned the small thing in his hand. “Um, thank you.”
“You saved my life. If that’s some kind of repayment, I’m glad.” She waved a hand at him. “Now would you all please take yourselves out of my house. I feel the need for a nap. I am eighty-five, you know.”
Silas frowned. “I thought you said eighty-three.”
“Today has aged me.” She pointed at the entryway. “Close the door on your way out.”
“Are you sure you’ll be all right?” Jasper asked. “Would you like a friend to come over? We could send for a Healer.”
“Where would I get the money for that? Anyhow, all I need is a bit of a lie down. When I have the house to myself.”
They glanced at each other, but it was her home and her decision. As they headed out, Pip trotted over to Granny Abels and said, “I’m glad you were saved. Your magic smells good.”
For the first time, a faint smile crossed her wrinkled face. “Thank you, sir dog.”
Pip’s tail whipped in a blur, then he headed outside after Silas. Darien was moving slowly, so he was the last to leave. In the doorway he turned to look back. Granny Abels had sat back down in her chair and pressed her fingers to her mouth, but when she noticed him watching, she lifted one hand in a wave, then fisted it and pressed it against her heart. Her lips moved. He thought it was “Thank you.” Then she pointed sternly out the door.
He didn’t want to leave her alone, but after eighty-three years, or maybe eighty-five, she’d surely earned the right to make her own choices. Perhaps she had the strength not to lie there and hear the echo of voices inside her head and wonder if she was crazy. At least, she’d know it wasn’t just her imagination. He gave her a salute and followed the others into the bright sunshine.
Chapter 3
Silas looked into the rearview mirror and his eyes met Jasper’s.
A fond smile curved Jasper’s lips as his gaze moved sideways to where Darien sat with his head slumped against the window, fast asleep. “He has no idea how extraordinary he is, does he?”
“Not the first clue.” Silas clenched his teeth against the flood of worry and pride and nausea. “He keeps doing these things that really shouldn’t be possible. Just by instinct, without planning.”
“It’s worked so far.”
“So far.” Silas couldn’t resist touching the back of Darien’s limp hand, where the skin was tinged red as if sunburned. Darien muttered something and turned farther on his side.
Pip spoke from where he snuggled under Darien’s arm. “Grim, what was in that bottle you made Granny Abels give Darien?”
“I didn’t make her. It was supposed to happen.” Grim rustled around on the back seat. “It’s a potion. Not sure what it’s for, but it’s important. I Saw that much.”
“Does that mean Darien will be in danger again?”
“Probably.” Grim growled under his breath. “Demons popping out of thin air like a stroll in the park? Good bet he’s not the only one who’ll be in danger.”
“At least you all banished that demon. Hutchins was very relieved,” Jasper said. “As she should’ve been.”
They’d stopped to reassure Lori Hutchins and ask her to look in on Granny Abels. Silas hoped she would give the old woman some support. He had no clue what damage the demon might’ve left in its wake, in the old woman’s mind and spirit. Demons fed on dark emotions and merged their host’s power with their own. Granny Abels had so little power to begin with. Would ripping away what the demon had taken in a few hours’ worth of possession have drained her completely? Although some force had stirred in that kitchen when Darien took the potion, whether old stored power or new.
She’s alive. That’s more than anyone else can say. If her power’s gone, or drained to dregs, surely that’s still a bargain in exchange for her life.
Silas clenched his hands on the wheel. “That hell-born bastard was just two, maybe three syllables.” He was deeply uneasy about the way it’d arrived. Bad enough to face a couple of demons a year, summoned by sorcerers with more lust for power than sense. If demons could just appear randomly that was a whole new level of disaster.
“I do wonder,” Jasper mused, “whether the familiars’ situation— their inability to get back to their Home— and the demons might be related.”