Page 26 of Demon's Bluff
Please stay there,I thought as I began unpacking the bowl. Jenks didn’t entirely trust Al, but I did. And truly, it wasn’t that long ago that spelling with a demon would have scared the crap out of me. Al, though, had mellowed when he regained the ability to come and go freely in reality—all the demons had—and with the pain had gone a lot of their need to punish. Al was an exceptional teacher, and I’d caught him calling me Ceri on more than one occasion. I took it as a compliment, seeing as the powerful elf had been his student and companion for over a thousand years before she died protecting Ray and Lucy from a demon bent on dominating two realities.
But what I think I liked most about Al’s teaching style was how it forced me to think. His list had been everything I’d need even as it wasabsent on what I’d use for technique. I’d have to think through the spell, decide if silver snips would work better than iron, or if I could use a fingerstick instead of a ceremonial knife. Copper bowls gave you a different result than, say, a walnut one, but sometimes it didn’t make a difference. Knowing when it did was a matter of instinct, and developing that instinct would ultimately lengthen my lifespan. A poorly twisted curse could kill you. Not to mention that most demons left things out of their written spells and curses as a way to keep their secrets. The ability to parse out what wasn’t written down was priceless.
Which was why I took the time to layer a heavy spray of Ivy’s enzymatic no-blood on the entire de-felted table.
Al, though, frowned at the scent of citrus. “What,” he said flatly, “are you doing?”
I didn’t feel even a twinge of overkill. “The charm links to me through my blood, right?” I said as Jenks snickered knowingly from the tip of my cue stick. “Do you have any idea what Kisten and Ivy have done on this table? You want me to get the black light?”
The demon hesitated. “Continue,” he muttered.
“Thought so.” But the mist had puddled long enough, and I used the paper towels to soak up the excess before putting another layer of salt water down.
Al sighed impatiently as I wiped it dry and threw the waste into the empty copper pot.
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to use a nonspecific spelling table to spell on,” I said.
“Rache, I gotta get some air.” Jenks hovered before me, his dust a fading gray. The citrus scent was getting to him, and I nodded. Path bobbling, he flew to the kitchen.
“If we may begin?” Al intoned, and I snapped the black silk scarf out, carefully dusting the entire table for free ions.
“Absolutely,” I said as I tucked the silk into my waistband, and he rolled his eyes.
“You are being excessive,” he said. “Don’t expect brownie points.”
I stood at one end of the table with my things, he at the other. “You said it is Newt’s charm, yes? And I’m trying to connect it to my visual cortex? My brain, basically? I don’t want to screw it up because I was in a hurry. And besides,” I whispered, “it got rid of Jenks.”
Al shot a glance at the empty hallway and nodded. “So it did.” He took a slow breath, and I could almost see his teaching hat go on. “The charm is already contained in the stone. What you will be doing is utilizing three pentagrams to firstly burn away its previous link to Newt, secondly to reconnect the stone to yourself, and finally to seal the spell so it does not unravel. To destroy Newt’s connection, you will need to prepare a pyre of three smudge sticks made of white sage wrapped with a binding of rosemary. To apply your own link, you will need to make a paintbrush of your hair and the copper stylus. And lastly, you will need to soak that saffron in about a quarter cup of wine to carry your linkage into the stone. If you can warm it, all the better.”
Of course I could warm it, but as Al went to drag a cushy chair closer, I used my magnetic chalk to draw a line just under the crack from one still-felt-clad bumper to the other, in essence dividing the table into one-third prep space and two-thirds spelling.
“What are you doing now?” Al said in wonder as he finished arranging his chair.
My motions to wipe the chalk from my fingers faltered. “Visually separating my work area from my spelling area. Why?”
The demon frowned. “I’ve never seen anyone do that before except—”
His words cut off, and his focus shifted to the stone amulet on the table.
“Who?” I said as I handed him the bottle of wine to open.
“Never mind,” he said, his wispy voice holding a tired annoyance. “Continue.”
It could be that I was bringing up unwanted memories. No need to pry. “A quarter cup?” I asked to distract him when he set the open bottle at my elbow.
“As I said.” Annoyed, he settled himself where he could watch, one knee atop the other.
The saffron would have to soak, so leaving the smudge sticks for later, I poured an estimated quarter cup of wine into my Srandford bowl. It was glass and consequently neutral, and my brow furrowed as I took up the tiny glass vial. There weren’t that many strands in there, but that wasn’t the reason I shook only three out into my palm. The charm involved three pentagrams to remove the old, install the new, and seal the charm. Three aspects, so therefore three strands.
“Three?” I guessed, and he made a pleased-sounding grunt and a frivolous wave for me to get on with it.
My exhale was louder than I’d meant it to be, and I dropped the saffron strands in and warmed the wine with a quick thought.
Making the paintbrush was next, and I used my silver snips to cut a lock of hair, then plucked three long strands to tie the bundle to the copper stylus with three different knots. Finished, I glanced at Al to see if the three knots should have been the same, but he didn’t seem to care—which meant it didn’t matter, or I had done it right, or he was going to let it blow up in my face.
Mood sour, I soaked the makeshift paintbrush with a heavy layer of salt water to get rid of the hair straightener charm on it. The entire wad immediately twisted into a perfect curl, but at least I knew it was clean, and I blotted it dry with the ion-free scarf.
“Adequate,” Al said, his nose again in myWitch Monthly, and I felt a wash of relief. I needed this to work and not be simply a lesson on what not to do.