Page 38 of Demon's Bluff

“Don’t sweat it, Ivy. I’m going with her,” Jenks said, and my head jerked up.

“No, you aren’t,” both Ivy and I said as one, and the sound of his wings shifted into an irritating whine as he flipped us both off. Matalina had been alive five years ago. It would break his heart to leave her, and it would break mine if he stayed there in the past.

I wouldn’t be able to contact Ivy. Trent, either. Al was exiled into the ever-after five years ago and wouldn’t know me.Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

“Try to stop me, witch,” Jenks said belligerently. “Someone needs to watch your six.”

“Truer words may never have been spoken, but you aren’t coming,” I said. “Ivy, I can do this,” I added, but when I moved to give her a hug, she dropped a step back, clearly upset.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, voice raspy, and I jerked my hand away. Jenks froze in the air, and we stared at her as she quietly panicked. “Just because you survived the five years between then and now doesn’t mean you don’t go back tomorrow and get yourself killed.”

“I have that same risk every day,” I pleaded. “I have to try. How else am I going to get the coven off my case? I am not going to be their demon slave, and I’m not going to hide in the ever-after for a hundred years while they live out their lives and die!”

For three heartbeats she stood there, expression stricken. “I have to go,” she said, then spun, head down as she strode from the kitchen.

“Ivy?” I called, but my impetus to follow her died when I realized Al was coming in from his wagon, arms swinging and shoulders hunched as he wove through the graveyard. Torn, I skidded to a halt. He was going to help?

“I got her,” Jenks said, then darted out.

Lip between my teeth, I waited, nervously flipping the book to the energy-spindling curse.Pentagram to contain the curse, linking object to link, words to access the demon collective.The curse was there. All I’d have to do is set it up and run it.

“I thought you weren’t going to help,” I said as Al came into thekitchen, two lengths of a black gold chain dangling from his tightly fisted hand.

“I broke this about five years ago,” he said as he held them out.

His mood was closed, and I gingerly took them, stifling a shiver as they coiled into my palm with a cool sensation.

“It will get you to your target date,” Al said distantly, as if it didn’t matter, as if he hadn’t given me a real chance. “Travel back until it regains its unbroken state, then stop. I can guarantee you that I did not know you then. You should be safe. From me.”

Safe from him…Elation was a heady wash. He thought I could do this. I could do this. “And to get back?”

“That’s simple. Break something an instant before you leave and take it with you as a marker. It will mend on the way out. When it breaks again on the return trip, you are home.”

Home,I thought. Odd. I’d be going somewhere without ever leaving it. “Thank you.”

A tense, false grin crossed him. “Don’t thank me yet. I suggest that you register how you twined these two curses into a new one into the collective.”

“So I can make the return trip easier?” I guessed, and he shook his head.

“No, my thought is that by registering the blended curse in the collective, you can prevent anyone else from using it.”

I bobbed my head at his logic. Without a cost-for-use clause, no other demon could duplicate what I did unless they independently invented it themselves. I’d never registered a spell with the cost-of-use clause, but I knew how in case I ever made a spell anyone else would want.

“I know your reasons for doing this, and they are worth the risk.” Worry pinched his brow, making him look old. “Keep your presence light. Little changes will be absorbed, but anything large will settle in your mind and drive you mad.”

Newt,I thought, stifling a shudder.

“You remember the words to register a spell?” he asked, and I noddedagain. “Good. And stay out of my sight,” he added. “If I encounter you with your current skill level, I will try to snag you as a familiar, regardless of not knowing you then.”

“Okay.” I flipped the book closed. I had so much to do.

“Jenks!” I shouted. “You up for a trip out to Second-Hand Charm?”

Chapter

9

The incongruity of Celtic bagpipesand drums playing “Sabotage” was an odd, wild, and decidedly stirring mix. But the modern beat blended into the ancient sound perfectly, and I tapped in time as I slid a wad of hangers down the rack with a rasp. Second-Hand Charm organized their clothes by color, not size, which worked surprisingly well, and I quickly sorted through the black tees to find something without sequins.