Page 143 of Demon's Bluff
Pike’s eyes flashed black, then cleared, his sun-brown face creasing in a smile as he stood before me with a misted bottle of water. Now that I knew it was there, I could see traces of Kisten lingering about him like a second shadow: his scent, his calm, his touch. “Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “I want my brother back, the consequences be damned.”
“Your call.” I took the cold bottle as he extended it. “Give me a few minutes to prep. It’s a fast curse.” Fast because I had been doing it for months as I tried to find a substitute for a mist-fogged mirror, not knowing what it actually was.
“Sure.” He glanced at the bottle. “You want a glass with that?”
“Um, no.” Turning, I studied the quiet space. The table was as good a place as any, even if Scott looked as if he was about to throw a tantrum. “Ah. I’m glad you and Kisten are hitting it off.”
“You can’t have him.”
It was a fast utterance, and I could almost see his thoughts plinking through him like diamonds shining in the moonlight. A hint of threat, of possessiveness, flickered in his suddenly black eyes, and I shook my head, satisfied that a bond had been formed. They would die for each other. How had it happened so fast? “I cannot,” I agreed, making it a promise. “Ready?”
He came out from behind the bar, his motion edging into a vampire quickness. My fingers were cold, and I made a fist, shaking my hand free of it as I sat down to put Brad and Scott across from me. Pike stood at my back, making me feel safe despite the stairway behind me.
“Where’s Elyse?” I said, plastic rattling as I began to unpack.
Scott laced his hands over his middle to look like a mini-me villain. “Itwas thought that we should have an unbiased opinion as to whether you break the curse or not,” he said, voice high.
I set an unmarked scrying mirror down beside a plate, the soft scrape grating. The two would nestle together nicely. “I’m not going to teach you how to break the curse.”
“Ihaveseen the instructions,” Scott said dryly, but I was more interested in that paper bag at his feet.
“Technique is more important than a to-do list.” He must want something, and I wadded the plastic bag up and checked my phone for the time. “You can watch. That’s it.”
Scott stared. “No blood? No wax? What kind of a curse is this?”
“A good one.” A common misconception was that complexity made a curse strong. Will made a curse strong, and that’s all this curse was—will and mist on a mirror.And a dollop of raw power,I thought as I reached my awareness out to a ley line and pulled the living energy in.
At my nod, Pike shifted to sit by his brother. “Hey, Brad. Can I talk to you for a sec?”
“Busy,” the cursed man said, brow furrowed as he put his arches on the edge of the table.
The chilled water chattered as I poured it onto the plate. Water spilled, overflowing when I set the pristine scrying mirror atop it. “Give me fifteen seconds, then make him look up,” I whispered.
“What the Turn?” Scott said, and I glared at him to shut the hell up.
For eight seconds, I held my breath, warming it in my lungs before bending low over the chilled scrying mirror and breathing on it. Like magic, the glyphs that I’d scribed there at sunset appeared, the oils from my touch keeping the glass from beading up.
The spiderweb I’d used to adhere the curse to the glass was long gone, but the intent remained, and I glanced at Pike, worry furrowing my brow.
“Yo, Brad, look at what the witch wrote. It will make you laugh.”
With the innocence of a child, Brad glanced up from his game, going utterly still as his eyes locked on the mirror. A shiver ran through me, andmy hold on the line strengthened. My eyes closed, and I fell into the demon collective. The countercurse was there. I only needed to access it. And the mirror was the key.
“Sic semper erat, et sic semper erit,”I whispered, eyes opening.Thus it has been, and thus it will always be.
A shudder rippled over Brad as the mirror cleared, the words gone, and with it, his curse.
The man took a rasping breath as his feet slipped from the table and he stared at the floor.
“Did it work?” Pike put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Brad. Are you okay? Brad!”
Brad stared at his shaking hands, slowly curling his fingers in as if he’d never seen them before. When he looked up, his eyes were pupil black. “Is it real?” he said. “This feels real.”
“It worked!” Pike yanked Brad into a back-slapping hug, right there on the couch. “You’re okay. Brad, you’re okay. Look at me. You’re okay!”
Hewasokay, and I blinked fast as Brad’s pupils slowly shrank and he numbly gazed over the room. “I remember,” the older man said, and then his expression caved. “Oh, my God,” he moaned, pushing Pike away as he dropped his head into his hands, overcome. “The fog. It was eating me. Every thought I had. I couldn’t hold them.”
“I’m sorry, Brad,” I whispered, and he lifted his head.