Chapter Twenty
The coffee in my oversized mug was cold, but I wasn't going to go into the kitchen for more. Ivy was banging around there, baking more of her vile cookies despite us having already gone over that I wasn't going to eat them and was madder than a troll with a hangover that she'd been slipping me Brimstone.
The clatter of my pain amulet against the complexion charm hiding my bruised eye intruded as I set my mug aside and reached for the desk lamp. It had gotten dusky while Ceri tried to teach me how to store line energy. Cheery yellow light spilled over the plants strewn on my desk, the glow just reaching Ceri sitting on a cushion she had brought over from Keasley's. We could have done this in the more comfortable living room, but Ceri had insisted on hallowed ground despite the sun being up. And it was quiet in the sanctuary. Depressingly so.
Ceri sat cross-legged on the floor to make a small figure in jeans and a casual shirt under the shadow of the cross. A pot of tea sat beside her, steaming though my own mug was long cold. I had a feeling she was using magic to keep it warm, though I had yet to catch her at it. A delicate cup was cradled reverently in her thin hands - she had brought that from Keasley's, too - and Ivy's crucifix glimmered about her neck. The woman's hands were never far from it. Her fair hair had been plaited by Jenks's eldest daughter that morning, and she looked at peace with herself. I loved seeing her like this, knowing what she had endured.
There was a thump from the kitchen followed by the clatter of the oven door shutting. A frown crossed me, and I turned to Ceri as she prompted, "Are you ready to try again?"
Setting my sock-footed feet firmly on the floor, I nodded. Quick from practice, I reached out with my awareness and touched the line out back. My chi filled, taking no more or less than it ever did. The energy flowed through me much like a river flows through a pond. I had been able to do this since I was twelve and accidentally threw Trent into a tree at his father's Make-A-Wish camp. What I had to do was pull some of that energy out of the pond and lift it to a cistern in my mind, so to speak. A person's chi, whether human, Inderlander, or demon, could hold only so much. Familiars acted as extra chi that a magic user could draw on as his or her own.
Ceri waited until I gestured I was ready before she tapped the same line and fostered more into me. It was a trickle instead of Algaliarept's deluge, but even so, my skin burned when my chi overflowed and the force rippled through me, seeking somewhere to puddle. Going back to the pond and river analogy, the banks had overflowed and the valley was flooding.
My thoughts were the only place it could settle, and by the time it found them, I had made the tiny three-dimensional circle in my imagination that Ceri had spent most of the afternoon teaching me how to craft. Shoulders easing, I felt the trickle find the small enclosure. Immediately the warm sensation on my skin vanished as the energy my chi couldn't hold was drawn into it like mercury droplets. The bubble expanded, glowing with a red smear that took on the color of my and Al's aura. Yuck.
"Say your trigger word," Ceri prompted, and I winced. It was too late. My eyes met hers, and her thin lips twitched. "You forgot," she accused, and I shrugged. Immediately she stopped forcing energy into me, and the excess ran out in a brief spark of heat back to the line. "Say it this time," she said tightly. Ceri was nice, but she wasn't a particularly patient teacher.
Again she made ley line energy overflow my chi. My skin warmed, the bruise from where Algaliarept slapped me throbbing. The amperage, if you will, was a touch more than usual, and I thought that it was Ceri's not-so-subtle encouragement to get it right this time.
"Tulpa," I whispered, hearing it in my mind as well as my ear. The word choice wasn't important. It was building the association between the word and the actions that were. Latin was generally used, as it was unlikely that I would say it accidentally, triggering the spell by mistake. The process was identical to when I had learned to make an instant circle. The word tulpa wasn't Latin - it hardly qualified as English - but how often was it used in conversation?
Faster this time, the energy from the line found my enclosure and filled it. I pulled my gaze to Ceri and nodded for more. Green eyes serious in the dim light from the heat lamp on my desk, she returned it. My breath seeped out and my focus blurred when Ceri upped the level and a flash of warmth tingled over my skin. "Tulpa," I whispered, pulse quickening.
The new force found the first. My spherical protection circle within my unconsciousness expanded to take it in. Again my focus cleared, and I nodded to Ceri. She blinked when I gestured for more, but I wasn't going to let Al knock me out with an overload of force. "I'm fine," I said, then stiffened when the bruised skin around my eye throbbed, burning with the sensation of a sunburn even through the pain amulet. "Tulpa," I said, slumping as the heat vanished. See, I told my frazzled brain. It's an illusion. I'm not really on fire.
"That's enough," Ceri said uncomfortably, and I pulled my chin up from my chest. The fire was gone from my veins, but I was exhausted and my fingers were trembling.
"I don't want to sleep tonight until I can hold what he pushed into me," I replied.
"But, Rachel..." she protested, and I raised a hand slowly in denial.
"He's going to come back," I said. "I can't fight him if I'm convulsing in pain."
Face pale, she bobbed her head, and I jerked as she forced more into me. "Oh God," I whispered, then said my trigger word before Ceri could stop. This time I felt the energy flow like acid through me, following new channels, pulled by my word rather than finding its way to my bubble by accident. My head jerked up. Eyes wide, I stared at Ceri as the pain vanished.
"You did it," she said, looking almost frightened as she sat cross-legged before me.
Swallowing, I pulled my legs under me so she wouldn't see my knees tremble. "Yeah."
Unblinking, she held her cup in her lap. "Let it go. You need to recenter yourself."
I found my arms were wrapped around myself. Forcing them down, I exhaled. Letting go of the energy spindled in my head sounded easier than it was. I had enough force in me to throw Ivy into the next county. If it didn't flow back to my chi and then the line using the gently seared channels that Ceri had been burning through my nervous system, it was really going to hurt.
Steeling myself, I set my will around the bubble and squeezed. Breath held, I waited for the pain, but the ley line energy smoothly returned to my chi and then the line, leaving me shaking from spent adrenaline. Enormously relieved, I brushed my hair out of my eyes and put my gaze on Ceri. I felt awful: tired, exhausted, sweaty, and shaking - but satisfied.
"You're improving," she said, and a thin smile crossed me.
"Thanks." Taking my mug, I took a sip of cold coffee. She was probably going to ask me to pull it off the line by myself next; I wasn't yet ready to try. "Ceri," I said as my fingers trembled. "This isn't that hard compared to the benefits. Why don't more people know this?"
She smiled, her dusky shape in the shadow of the lamp going sage looking. "They do in the ever-after. It's the first thing - no, the second thing - that a new familiar is taught."
"What's the first?" I asked before I remembered I really didn't want to know.
"The death of self-will," she said, and my expression froze at the ugliness in how casually she said it. "Letting me escape, knowing how to be my own familiar, was a mistake," she said. "Al would kill me if he could to cover it up."
"He can't?" I said, suddenly frightened that the demon might try.
Ceri shrugged. "Maybe. But I have my soul, black as it is. That's what's important."
"I suppose." I didn't understand her cavalier attitude, but I hadn't been Al's familiar for a millennium. "I don't want a familiar," I said, glad Nick was so distant he couldn't feel any of this. I was sure if he was close enough, he would've called to make sure I was okay. I think.
"You're doing well." Ceri sipped her tea and glanced at the dark windows. "Al told me it took me three months to get to where you are now."
I looked at her, shocked. There was no way I could be better than her. "You're kidding."
"I was fighting him," she said. "I didn't want to learn, and he had to force me into it, using the absence of pain as a positive reinforcement."
"You were in pain for three months?" I said, horrified.
Her eyes were on her thin hands, laced about her teacup. "I don't remember it. It was a long time ago. I do remember sitting at his feet every night, his hand soft on my head while he relaxed as he listened to me cry for the sky and trees."
Imagining this beautiful wisp of a woman at Algaliarept's feet suffering his touch was almost too much to bear. "I'm sorry, Ceri," I whispered.
She jerked, as if only now realizing she had said it aloud. "Don't let him take you," she said, her wide eyes serious and solemn. "He liked me, and though he used me as they all use their familiars, he did like me. I was a coveted jewel in his belt, and he treated me well so I would be useful and at his side for a longer time. You, though..." Her head bowed, breaking our eye contact and pulling her braid over her shoulder. "He will torment you so hard and so fast that you won't have time to breathe. Don't let him take you."
I swallowed, feeling cold. "I wasn't planning on it."
Her narrow chin trembled. "You misunderstand. If he comes for you and you can't fight him off, make him so angry that he kills you."
Her sincerity struck me to the core. "He's not going to give up, is he?" I said.
"No. He needs a familiar to keep his standing. He won't give up on you unless he finds someone better. Al is greedy and impatient. He'll take the best he can find."
"So all this practice is making me a more attractive target?" I said, feeling sick.
Ceri squinted apologetically. "You need it to keep him from simply stunning you with a massive dose of ley line force and dragging you into a line."
I gazed at the darkening windows. "Damn," I whispered, not having considered that.
"But being your own familiar will help in your profession," Ceri said persuasively. "You'll have the strength of a familiar without the liabilities."
"I suppose." I set my mug aside, gaze unfocused. It was getting dark, and I knew she wanted to be home before the sun set. "Do you want me to try it alone?" I prompted hesitantly.
Her attention flicked to my hands. "I'd advise a small rest. You're still shaking."
I looked at my fingers, embarrassed that she was right. Curling them into a fist, I gave her a sheepish smile. She took a sip of her tea - clearly willing herself to be patient when I had no control over the situation - and I jumped when she whispered, "Consimilis calefacio."
She had done something; I had felt a drop in the line, even though I wasn't connected to it. Sure enough her gaze meeting mine was bright in amusement. "You felt that?" she said around a beautiful laugh. "You're getting very attached to your line, Rachel Mariana Morgan. It belongs to the whole street, even if it is in your backyard."
"What did you do?" I asked, not wanting to delve into what she had meant by that. She held her cup up in explanation, and my smile grew. "You warmed it up," I said, and she bobbed her head. Slowly my smile faded. "That's not a black charm, is it?"
Ceri's face lost its expression. "No. It's common ley line magic that acts on water. I will not add to the smut on my soul, Rachel. I'll be hard pressed to get rid of it as it is."
"But Al used it on David. It almost cooked him," I asserted, feeling sick. People were mostly water. Heat that up and you could cook them from the inside. God, I was sick for even thinking of it.
"No," she reassured me. "It was different. This one works only on things without auras. The curse strong enough to break through an aura is black and needs a drop of demon blood to twist. The reason David survived was because Al was drawing on a line through you, and he knew you couldn't handle the lethal amount - yet."
I thought about that for a moment. If it wasn't black, there was no harm in it. And being able to warm up my coffee without the microwave would blow Ivy away. "Is it hard to do?"
Ceri's smile blossomed. "I'll walk you through it. Give me a moment; I have to remember how to do it the long way," she said, extending her hand for my mug.
Oh, gotta slow to the witch's pace, I thought, leaning forward and handing it to her. But seeing as it was most likely the charm she used three times a day to cook Al's meals, she could probably do it in her sleep.
"It's sympathetic magic," she explained. "There's a poem to help remember the gestures, but the only two words you have to say are Latin. And it needs a focal object to direct the magic where to go," she explained, and took a sip of my cold coffee, making a face. "This is swill," she muttered, her words awkward as she spoke around the drop on her tongue. "Barbaric."
"It's better when it's hot," I protested, not having known you could hold a focal object in your mouth and still have it be effective. She could do the spell without it, but then she would have to throw the spell at my cup. This was easier, and less likely to spill my coffee, too.
Her face still showing her distaste, she raised her thin, expressive hands. "From candles burn and planet's spin," she said, and I moved my fingers, mimicking her gesture - I suppose if you used your imagination, it kind of looked like lighting a candle, though how her suddenly dropping hand related to spinning planets was beyond me. "Friction is how it ends and begins."
I jumped when she brought her hands together to make a loud pop, simultaneously saying, "Consimilis."