I exhaled in annoyance and looked at the tall wall surrounding the property. It was going to be another full twenty-four hours before Ivy and I could go talk to Skimmer. Not to mention that the I.S. might find Mia during that time and get someone killed. Concerned at the sound of running water, I turned to Bis, surprised to find him spitting across the graveyard to coat individual grave markers in ice. He was getting smaller by the second, turning white as he warmed up by absorbing the warmth from the water before he let it go. Talk about weird.
"There is no way I'm taking anyone's aura," I muttered, imagining Al sitting on me and holding my nose to make me open my mouth. The truth was, I'd been over to his apartments enough times now that he probably had a strand of hair to target a spell to me. All he had to do was twist the curse and I'd be wearing someone else's aura. Nice.
Bis spit tiny little ice cubes to get his balance perfect, then flew up to land on the angel's shoulder. He looked a little ill. "You want me to come with you? To the ever-after?"
The kid looked scared to death, and my heart went out to him. "No. Absolutely not," I said firmly, looking for my discarded mirror and my forgotten bag of cookies. "Al was just jerking you around. I wouldn't take you even if you asked. It's nasty over there." His wings drooped in relief, and I added, "Look, I don't want to go into the church. It would be just like Al to show up and cause trouble. Will you tell Ivy it didn't work and bring my bag out here? It's in my closet, already packed. Oh, and make sure she calls the correctional facility to set up something for Monday."
Safety was a good reason for not going back in the church, but the truth of it was, I didn't want to have to deal with Jenks. Crap, I didn't have time to waste a day in the ever-after keeping Al at arm's length and going to parties. It seemed that's all we ever did. Al called it networking. No wonder the demon was broke.
"Sure, Ms. Morgan," the gargoyle said, his eyes downcast as if he knew why I was sending him instead of going myself. Bis stretched his wings, going black as he drew all his warmth into his core to maintain his body heat while making the short flight to the church. His leathery wings beat once, and he was airborne, looking scary as he flew to the church.
Alone, I snatched up the scrying mirror and my bag of cookies. I wasn't looking forward to wearing someone else's aura. I'd rather just suffer the pain. Head down, I trudged through the snow, wincing when I felt the icy warmth of the line take me. Usually it was hard to feel them like this, but my aura was thin and this was my line, unused by anyone else, as it was rather small and surrounded by the dead. People were superstitious.
Finding my footprints from last week, I went a few steps beyond and set the cookies and mirror on a nearby tombstone. "Thanks, Beatrice," I whispered, reading the stone marker. Wrapping my arms around myself, I stared at the night and tried to stay warm. It was sort of like waiting at the bus stop, and I found myself falling into blank-stare mode. With a wry smile, I carefully unfocused my attention—slowly, until I knew it wouldn't hurt—to bring up my second sight, hoping to spot Al before he popped in to scare the crap out of me.
The red ribbon of power was suddenly around me, looking like an aurora borealis as it swelled and ebbed, always there, always fluctuating, running off to who knew where. Surrounding it was a broken landscape of stunted scrub and cold rock. Everything had a red sheen to it now except for the moon and the grave markers, and though the moon looked its normal silver now, when I crossed over to the ever-after, it would be an ugly shade of red. Not that we'd stay on the surface long.
I shivered, not liking it when my hair started to move in the wind from the ever-after. There was no snow, but I'd be willing to bet it was colder there. "Any time, Al," I called, then leaned against Beatrice's tombstone. He was going to make me wait. Son of a bastard.
"Ah, mistress witch," a faintly familiar voice sighed. "You're as smart as a steel trap, but I opine you won't keep body and soul together much longer. Nohow can I fix it if you maintain your course."
I spun around, going warm when I saw Al behind me, casually leaning against a tombstone with one booted foot cocked on a toe. He had made himself look like Pierce, and face hot, I gritted my teeth. But then I realized that Al didn't know about Pierce, wouldn't know to look for him in my thoughts, and wouldn't know what the man called me, or the curious accent he had—a mix of rough street talk and pre-Turn English.
