"Oh, that's ultimate!" Bis said as the wine-and-crystal-colored scrying mirror threw back the moonlight. I looked down at it, feeling the cold right through my gloves. I agreed with him, even though I thought something that called demons should be ugly. This was my second mirror, made with a stick of yew, some salt, wine, a bit of magic, and a lot of help from Ceri. The first one I'd broken over Minias's head when the demon had startled me. Ceri had helped me make that one, too. It was a contact glyph, not a summoning spell, and the double-circled pentagram with its symbols could open a path to the ever-after and any demon I wished to talk to. I didn't need to know their summoning name, just their common one. That, and the word that tapped into the demon's communal magic. Some days I really wished I didn't know the magic word.
Nervous, I hunched down to sit on the edge of the monolith, beside the cookies, and balanced the mirror on my knees. I took my right glove off and set my palm in the cave of the large pentagram. The red-tinted glass was icy cold to my naked fingers as the spelled glass transferred the cold of the night into me. Glancing up at Bis lurking above me, I said, "If Al shows up, get to hallowed ground, okay?"
The cat-size gargoyle nervously rustled his wings. "'Kay."
Satisfied, I pressed more firmly and reached to touch the nearby ley line.
Power that seemed to have picked up the chill of the night coursed in, finding a balance within me with an unusual flush of vertigo. Surprised, I leaned back until my shoulders hit the statue for balance. What in hell? The flow of energy was irregular, making me feel almost seasick. The odd sensation must be from my thin aura. Maybe auras functioned like filters, evening the highs and lows into a steady stream. The longer I held the line, the worse it got.
Bis dropped to stand uncertainly by my knee in concern, his clawed feet seeming to grow bigger when they hit the snow. "You okay, Ms. Morgan?" he asked, and I nodded slowly.
"Dizzy." Mirror balanced on my knees, I tucked a strand of floating hair behind my ear.
"Your aura is still thin," Bis said. "You sure you should be doing this?"
I blinked at him to get rid of the last of the vertigo. "You can see auras?" I asked, then rolled my eyes. Bis could see every ley line in Cincinnati in his mind, like I could see contrails in the daytime sky. When he touched me, I could see them, too. Of course he could see auras.
It was frigid out here, and since I was already connected to a line, all that was left was calling Al. Hands trembling faintly from light-headedness, I pressed my hand firmly and thought mater tintinnabulum to open a connection. The power of the ley line swelled in me, and my lips parted as I panted. God, this thin aura sucked—it felt like I was sick again—and I wondered how long until I was back to normal.
Shutting my eyes was worse, and I forced them open. It was as if I was in a huge space, but unlike before, when it seemed there were hundreds of whispering voices, there were only a few. Al, I thought again, making my goal specific, and I felt a part of me wing off in an unknown direction, a faint vibration seeming to echo through my mind.
I was contacting the demon, which was different from summoning. If I summoned Al into a circle, he'd be subject to my whims and a prisoner until the sun rose or he was able to make his escape through trickery or a lack of interaction with his summoner. He'd also be ticked, seeing as he would be taking on the payment for crossing the lines. No, I was calling him, which was cheaper, smut wise. He could ignore me, though he never refused a chance to flap his lip and show off. He could also use the connection to make the jump to our reality, which was why I was doing it out here. Us having an understanding or no, Algaliarept was a demon, and he would happily hurt Ivy or Jenks for the satisfaction of seeing me angry and impotent.
As expected, the demon picked up immediately, and the unusual vertigo from my thin aura vanished as my expanded experience narrowed to a single, tunnel-vision-like expression.
Itchy witch? his sharp thought echoed in mine. It was surprised and confused, and it was as if I could almost hear the elegant and precise British TV accent he used. I had no idea why. It's early, he thought, giving me the impression he was scrambling to organize his thoughts. It is early, isn't it? There was a hesitation, then, It's bloody hell four in the morning! If this is about exchanging my summoning name for that old mark of Newt's, the answer is no. I like you owing me two marks, and I'm enjoying not being yanked across the lines to answer stupid questions from stupid people. You included.
