Worry that he might never make good on our agreement flitted through me, but he needed his name to make a living and would eventually want it back. He was in debt up to his eyebrows, and had the further indignity of not having a familiar to stir his spells and curses. Even better, he now lived in a dump of a two-hollow hellhole instead of the ten-room mansion deep underground that he kept bitching about. Everything but his kitchen and front room had been sold to bribe the demon muck-ety-mucks to let him out on parole.
Despite his numerous and loud complaints, he wasn't too unhappy, because I was the only witch alive whose kids would technically be demons…and I belonged to him. Sort of. I was his student, not his familiar, and he had me only one night a week. Just my luck it was Saturday. Not that I was dating or anything, but a girl liked to keep her weekends free just in case.
That I still had his summoning name meant he couldn't pursue his freelance job of luring stupid people into demon servitude and then selling them to the highest bidder. That I might get summoned out under his name didn't bother me as much as I'd thought it would. I'd scare the crap out of them so good that they wouldn't dare think to summon Al again, and they'd be safe. Soon as Al figured that out, he'd switch back. I hoped.
Curiosity got the better of him when I remained silent, and he finally added, What do you want? I'm not letting you go early tomorrow for starting early today.
My eyes met Bis's. The gargoyle looked concerned, shifting his clawed feet and using a wing tip to scratch the middle of his back. "Uh," I said aloud so the kid could hear at least half of the conversation. "Can I have the night off? I don't feel very well."
There was a slight background confusion in him, but Al was alone or I'd be able to pick up his thinking about whoever was with him. You don't feel well? he thought, then hesitated as I got the impression he was unhappy with the way he looked. There was a surge of minor power through his mind, followed by a flush of satisfaction, and then he added, You want time off because you don't feel well? No.
I could feel him ready to snap the connection, and I blurted, "But I made you cookies." I moaned, knowing if I played ignorant, he might give in. He knew I wasn't ignorant, but he liked it when I pretended, as if I could manipulate him. Which I could, so who was smarter after all?
The tingles of thought coming from him touched on crushed green velvet coattails and lace, and I guessed he was primping. And what the hell do I care about that? he thought, but there had been a flash of hidden interest, and I smiled at Bis's worried expression.
I exhaled, not caring that Al could read my relief, because he hadn't hung up on me. "Look, I was attacked by a banshee yesterday and she sucked most of my aura off. I don't feel good, and tapping a line makes me dizzy, so I don't think I can be of any use anyway."
I can think of a lot of things to do, he thought. And none of them involve standing up.
"Very funny. I'm serious," I said, wondering what I had interrupted. His thoughts were focused on…tidying up? Good grief, is he tidying up for me? "I would have gotten a work excuse, but I had to break out of the hospital just to get here to talk to you."
I felt a surge of annoyance, and then, quite unexpectedly, it vanished. My gaze slid to Bis. Crap, was Al coming over? "Bis, take off!" I said in alarm, then gasped as a wave of vertigo slammed into me like a cresting wave.
"Ms. Morgan!" Bis shouted.
I pushed the mirror off my lap as I struggled not to spew. Pain followed the nausea. My skin felt like it was on fire, the pulsating energy hitting me hard without my aura to even out the surges. My legs wouldn't work, and when I tried to stand, I fell over. I hit the snow-covered pavement on my side, managing to get my arms out so I didn't crack my nose open.
"Ms. Morgan?" Bis tried again, and I clenched in agony when he touched me and I felt like I was going to explode. Damn it, I'd been okay until Al tapped into me to make his crossing cheaper. The cement slab under me was hard, and my cheek burned against the snow.
I smelled burnt amber, and suddenly there was a pair of shiny, buckled shoes before my pain-clenched eyes. "Run, Bis," I panted, then sucked in air when the pain cut off with a blessed suddenness. The power of the line was gone, and it was just me lying in the snow.
"What, by my blood dame's shadow, am I doing in the snow?" came Al's refined British accent. "Morgan, get up. You look like a scullery girl down there."
"Ow," I said as his white-gloved hand grabbed my shoulder and hauled me up. I stumbled, my feet not quite finding the ground for the first second or two.
"Let go of Ms. Morgan," came a deep, gravelly voice from behind me, and still in Al's grip, I worked to look around me.
