Black Magic Sanction. Ким Харрисон
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lots like lightning, mistress witch,” Pierce said, laughing as he extended a coffee.
God, I wish he’d speak normal English. Frantic, I brushed the bits of paper off the mantel, stepping on them once they hit the black marble floor. The stink of burning plastic joined the mess, and I grabbed the bowl of water, dumping it. Black smoke wisped up, stinging my eyes. It helped mask the reek of burning shoe, so maybe it wasn’t all bad.
“You ass!” I shouted. “Do you realize what would happen if Al came back and found you gone? Are you that inconsiderate, or just that stupid? Put this back on!”
Angry, I threw the ring of charmed metal at him. His hands were full, and he sidestepped it. With a thunk, the ring hit the tapestry and then the floor. Pierce’s hand extending the coffee drooped, his enthusiasm fading. “I’d do naught to hurt you, mistress witch.”
“I am not your mistress witch!” Ignoring the coffee, I looked at the bits of burnt paper in a soggy mess on the floor. Kneeling, I snatched the dish towel from the table to sop it up. I could smell raspberry-favored Italian blend, and my stomach growled.
“Rachel,” Pierce coaxed.
Pissed, I wouldn’t look up at him as I wiped the floor. Standing, I tossed the towel to the table in disgust, then froze. The aura bottle wasn’t green anymore.
“Rachel?”
It was questioning this time, and I held up a hand, tasting the air as my eyes stung. Shit, I’d burned the name and gotten the charged water all over me. “I think I’m in trouble,” I whispered, then jerked, feeling as if my skin was on fire. Yelping, I slapped at my clothes. Panic rose as an alien aura slipped through mine, soaking in to find my soul—and squeezing.
Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. I’d invoked the curse. I was in so-o-o-o much trouble. But this didn’t feel right; the curse burned! Demons were wimps. They always made their magic painless unless you did it wrong. Oh God. I’d done it wrong!
“Rachel?” Pierce touched my shoulder. I met his eyes, and then I doubled over, gasping.
“Rachel!” he cried, but I was trying to breathe. It was the dead person, the one whose name I’d scribed in my own blood. It hadn’t been his aura in the bottle, but his soul. And now his soul wanted a new body. Mine. Son of a bitch, Al had lied to me. I knew I should have trusted my gut and questioned him. He said it was an aura, but it was a soul, and the soul in the bottle was pissed!
Mine, echoed in our joined thoughts. Gritting my teeth, I bent double and tapped a ley line. Newt had once tried to possess me, and I had burned her out with a rush of energy. I gasped when a scintillating stream of it poured in with the taste of burning tinfoil, but the presence in me chortled, welcoming the flood. Mine! the soul insisted in delight, and I felt my link to the line being severed. I stumbled, falling to kneel on the cold marble. It had taken control, cutting me out!
No! I thought, scrambling for the line in my mind only to find nothing to grasp. My chest hurt when my heart started to beat to a new, faster rhythm. What in hell was this thing! What sort of mind could make a soul this determined? I couldn’t … stop it!
“Rachel!”
Eyes tearing, I blinked at Pierce, struggling to focus. “Get. It. Out of me!”
He spun, motions fast as he found the unburnt signature still on the table. There was a swallow of water left in the bowl. It had to be enough.
I am Rachel Morgan, I thought, teeth gritted as the soul rifled through my memories like some people shake old books for money. I live in a church with a vampire and a family of pixies. I fight the bad guys. And I will not let you have my body!
You can’t stop me.
The thought was oily, hysteria set to discordant music. It hadn’t been my thought, and I panicked. It was right, though. I was powerless to stop it, and as soon as it looked at everything and claimed what it wanted, I was going to be discarded.
“Get out!” I screamed, but its fingers reached into my heart and brain for more, and I groaned, feeling control over my body start to slip away. “Pierce, get it out of me!” I begged, doubled over on the cold black floor, silver etchings like threads under my cheek. Everything I didn’t concentrate on was gone. The moment I lapsed, I would be too.
I smelled the scent of burnt paper, and the soft murmur of Latin. “Sunt qui discessum animi a corpore putent esse mortem,” Pierce said, his hand shaking as he brushed the hair from my face. Beside him was the empty bowl. “Sunt erras.”
“This is mine!” I cried gleefully, but it wasn’t me screaming. It was the soul, who had found the knowledge that my blood could invoke demon magic and held it aloft like a jewel. I got in one clean gasp of air as it was distracted, and I opened my eyes. “Pierce …,” I whispered desperately, for his attention, then choked when the soul realized I still had some control.
“Mine! ” the soul snarled with my lips, and I backhanded Pierce across the cheek.
Oh God, I’d lost, and I felt myself pull my legs under me to crouch before the fire like an animal. I’d lost my body to a thousand-year-old soul! My lips curled back, and I grinned at Pierce’s horror, even as I tried to claw my way back into control. But even my connection to the ley line belonged to it.
“Get away from her!” I heard Al exclaim, and with the sound of smacking flesh, Pierce slid backward against the tapestry. Al.
Hissing, I spun to him, crouched and hands turned to claws. It is a demon, echoed in my thoughts, and hatred bubbled up, a thousand years of hatred demanding revenge.
I jumped at him with a howl, and Al grabbed me by the neck. I clawed at him, and he casually thunked my head into the wall. Pain reverberated between my skull and reason, and in the haze, my reactions were faster than the alien soul’s. I took control, grabbed the ley line, and threw a protection bubble about the soul within me. It was still dazed from the thunk on the head, and I had the upper hand. But for how long?
Eyes struggling to focus, I latched onto Al’s hands around my throat. God, I was never so happy to see him. “Rachel?” he asked, an understandable question at this point.
“For a little bit longer, yeah, you son of a bitch,” I panted, terrified as I felt the soul in me start to recover. “You told me it was an aura. It’s a goddamned soul! You lied to me! You lied to me, Al! And it’s … taking me over, you son of a bitch!”
His eyes narrowed as he looked across the room at Pierce. “I told you to watch her!”
“Accident,” Pierce said as he untangled his legs. “She dropped a candle. The early scratchings burned, and she put it out with the water. The soul wasn’t harnessed by invocation before escaping. I twisted the curse to get it out of her. I don’t understand why it didn’t work!”
Al let go of my neck and swung me into his arms, cradling me. “You’re not a demon, runt,” he said distantly, talking to Pierce as he peered into my eyes. “You can’t hold a soul other than your own.”
But Al thought I could? I took a breath as I stared at Al’s red eyes, then another, feeling the soul in me begin to push against the protection circle, probing, looking for a way to regain control. I jerked when a slow flame started in my mind, burning, expanding. It howled against the inside of my skull, and my hands twitched. “Get it … out!” I forced past my clenched teeth. I couldn’t fight forever.
Al’s goat-slitted eyes showed a flash of panic, and I felt him sit down before the fire, right there on the floor. “Let me in, Rachel. Into your thoughts. You’ve got Krathion in there. I can separate him from you, but you have to let me in. Let go and stop fighting so I can come in!”
He wanted me to stop fighting? “He’ll take over!” I panted, gripping his arm when a new wave of outrage spun through me. “He’ll kill me! Al, this soul is crazy!”
Al