For a Few Demons More (3 page)

“Hurry,” Ceri whispered, sweat tracking her face. “You'll probably show up as an unregistered user, but unless she's cursed him again, he's likely looking for her and will answer.”

Unregistered? I wondered. Licking my lips, I closed my eyes. I was already connected to the line, so all that was left was invoking the curse and thinking his name.
Mater tintinnabulum, Minias,
I thought, not expecting anything to happen.

My breath came in a quick heave, and I felt Ceri's hand clamp on my wrist, forcing my own to stay in the circle. A jolt of ever-after spun from me, colored with my aura. I felt it leave me like a winging bird, and I struggled to hold myself together as I saw it flee in my imagination, taking a portion of me with it.

“I won't let him steal it from me!” Newt shouted. “It's mine! I want it back!”

“Concentrate,” Ceri whispered, and I fell into myself, feeling that
freed slice of me ring like a bell through the entirety of the ever-after. And like a ringing bell, it was answered.

I'm a little busy,
came an irritated thought.
Leave a message on the damned landline and I'll get back to you.

I shuddered at the sensation of thoughts not my own curling through my mind, but Ceri kept my hand unmoving. Within Minias was a background clutter of worry, guilt, aggravation. But he had dismissed me like a telemarketer and was ready to snap the connection.

Newt,
I thought.
Take the imbalance for my calling you, and I'll tell you where she is. And promise you won't hurt us,
I added.
Or let her hurt us. And get her the hell out of my church!

“Hurry!” Ceri cried, and my concentration bobbled.

Done,
the voice thought decisively. Minias's worry sharpened to a point and joined mine.
Where are you?

My brief elation vanished.
Uh,
I thought, wondering how you give directions to a demon, but Minias's own thoughts faltered in confusion.

What the devil is she doing past the lines? It's almost sunup.

She's trying to kill me!
I thought.
Get your ass over here and collect her!

You aren't registered. How am I supposed to know where you are? I'll have to…

I stiffened, jerking my hand out of the circle and Ceri's grip when the voice's presence squeezed my thoughts harder. Gasping, I fell backward onto my butt, my body mirroring my attempt to jerk away from Minias's presence.

“…come though on your thoughts,” a darkly mellow voice said.

“Heavenly Father, save us,” Ceri gasped.

My head spun, and I caught a glimpse of Ceri falling backward. She hit her circle, and panic iced through me when it broke in a flash of black.

Oh, God. We're dead.

She met my gaze as she sprawled half upright up on the floor, her eyes saying she thought she had killed us. Newt cried out, and I spun where I was sitting, only to freeze in shock.

Nothing stood between Newt and us now but a man, his purple robes reflecting hers in all but color. He was barefoot, and only now did I remember the flash of those robes coming between me and Ceri as he shoved the elf into the bubble to break it so he could get to Newt.

“Let me go, Minias,” Newt snarled, and my eyes widened at his thick-knuckled hand gripping her upper arm. “She has something of mine. I want it back.”

“What has she got of yours?” he asked calmly, his back to me. Newt was a head shorter than Minias, and it made her look vulnerable despite the scathing vehemence in her voice. His voice carried the intent sound of a more-than-casual question, and my eyes dropped to the grip he had on her staff, right above her hand. It never eased up, not even as his honey-amber voice spilled into the violated sanctuary like a balm. Soothing, yes, but holding tension, too.

Newt said nothing. I could see the hem of her robe past Minias tremble.

I scrambled up, Ceri finding her feet beside me. She didn't bother to reinstate the circle. What was the point? Minias shifted to block Newt's view. He was focused on her, but I was sure he was aware of us, and he looked like he knew what he was doing. I had yet to see his face, but his brown hair was short, the curls crushed by the same hat Newt wore.

“Breathe,” Minias said, as if trying to trigger something. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to remember,” she whispered. It was as if we weren't even in the room anymore, so focused were they on each other, and only now did Minias's grip become gentle.

“Then why do you—”

“Because it hurts,” she said, her bare feet shifting.

Leaning in as if concerned, he asked gently, “Why did you come here?”

She was silent, and then finally said, “I don't remember.” It was agitated—soft and threatening—and the only reason I believed her was that she had clearly forgotten before Minias had shown up.

Minias lost the last of his anger. I felt as if we were witnessing a common but seldom-seen event, and I hoped he would hold to his promise that they wouldn't take us when they were ready to leave. “Then let's go,” he soothed, and I wondered how much of this was caretaker and how much was simply caring. Could demons care about each other?

“Maybe you'll remember when we get back,” he said, turning Newt as if he were going to lead her away. “If you forget something, you should go to where you first thought it, and it will be waiting for you.”

Newt refused to step with him, and our eyes met when Minias moved out of the way. “It's not at home,” she said, her brow furrowed to show a deep inner pain and, under that, a seething power held in check by the demon whose grip had slid from her staff to her hand. “It's here, not there. Whatever it is, it's here. Or it was here. I…I know it.” Anger slipped over her brow, born from frustration. “You don't want me to remember,” she accused.

“
I
don't want you to remember?” he asked harshly, his hand falling from her and extending in demand. “Give them to me. Now.”

My gaze flicked between them. He had gone from lover to jailer in a pulse.

“I'm missing my cache of yew,” he said. “I didn't make you forget. Give them to me.”

Newt's lips pressed together, and spots of color appeared on her cheeks. It was starting to make sense. Yew was highly toxic and used almost exclusively in communing with the dead and for making forget charms. Illegal forget charms. I had found a yew in the back of the graveyard by an abandoned mausoleum, and though I didn't commune with the dead, I had left it, hoping that plausible deniability would keep my butt out of court if anyone found it there. Growing yew wasn't illegal, but growing it in a graveyard, where the potency was enhanced, was.

“I made them,” Newt snapped. “They're mine! I made them myself!”

She turned to leave, and he reached out and spun her back. I could see Minias's face now. He had a strong jaw, clenched with emotion. His red demon eyes were so dark they almost hid the characteristic goat-slitted appearance, and his nose was strongly Roman. Anger was heavy on him, balancing Newt's own temper perfectly.

Emotions cascaded over them both in a rapid, fluid torrent. It was as if a five-minute argument were passing in three seconds, her face changing, his responding, causing a shift of her mood that was reflected in his body language. He carefully manipulated her, this demon who had removed the sanctity of the church without a second thought, who had turned a triple blood-circle to her will—something that I had been told was impossible but of which Ceri had known Newt was fully capable. I didn't know whom to be more frightened of—Newt, who could plague the world, or Minias, who controlled her.

“Please,” he asked when her face shifted to chagrin and her black eyes dropped.

Hesitating briefly, she reached into the pocket of her expansive sleeve and handed him a fistful of vials.

“How many did you invoke when you remembered?” he asked, the vials clattering.

Newt's eyes went to the floor, beaten, but the sly look to her demeanor told me she wasn't sorry about it. “I don't recall.”

He jiggled them in his hand before pocketing them, clearly seeing her unrepentant mood. “There are four missing.”

She looked at him, real tears showing. “It hurts,” she said, scaring the crap out of me.
Newt had inflicted her own memory loss? What had she remembered that she didn't want to?

Ceri was standing beside me, almost forgotten, and she slumped, telling me that it was almost done. I wondered how often she had seen this played out.

His mood easing, Minias pulled Newt close, the purple of his robe curving around her. Newt folded her arms against herself and let him hold her, her eyes shut and her head tucked under his chin. They looked elegant and self-possessed standing in their strongly colored robes and proud stances. I wondered how I could ever have doubted Newt's gender. It was so clear now, and I spared a thought that perhaps she had subtly shifted her appearance. Seeing them together made a shudder ripple over me. Minias was the only thing holding Newt to her sanity. I didn't think he was just her familiar. I don't think he had ever been
just
anything.

“You shouldn't take them,” he whispered, his breath brushing her forehead. His voice was captivating, moving up and down like music.

“It hurts,” she said, her own voice muffled.

“I know.” His demonic eyes locked with mine, and I shivered. “That's why I don't like it when you go out without me,” he said, looking at me but talking to her. “You don't need them.” Breaking our eye contact, Minias turned her face to his, his hand cupping her strong jawline.

My arms wrapped around my middle, I wondered how long they had been together. Long enough that a forced burden became one willingly shouldered?

“I don't want to remember,” Newt said. “The things I've done—”

A demon with a conscience? Why not? They did have souls.

“Don't,” Minias said, interrupting her. He held her more gently. “Promise you'll tell me the next time you remember something instead of going looking for answers?”

Newt nodded, then stiffened in his arms. “That's where I was,” she whispered, and my gut clenched at the sound of realization in her voice. Minias froze, and beside me Ceri paled.

“It was in your journals!” Newt exclaimed, pushing him away. Minias fell back, wary, but the demon was beyond noticing. “You've been writing it down. You've written down everything I remember! How much do you have in your books, Minias? How much do you know that I wanted to forget!”

“Newt…” he warned, his fingers fumbling in his pocket.

“I found them!” Newt shouted. “You know why I'm here! Tell me why am I over here!”

I jumped when Ceri gripped my arm. Shouting in rage, Newt swung her staff at him. Minias's fingers danced in the air as if babbling in sign language, forming a ley line spell. I felt a huge drop as someone pulled on the line out back, and with a surprising shout, Minias ended his spell by popping the lid to a vial he'd taken from Newt and flinging it at her.

Newt cried out in dismay as the sparkles hung in the air, her anger, frustration, and pain shocking in their depth. And then the potion hit her, and her face went blank.

Sliding to a stop, she blinked, glancing over the empty sanctuary with no recognition in her gaze as it landed on Ceri and me. She saw Minias, then threw her staff to the floor as if it were a snake. It hit with a clatter and bounced. Outside, past the stained-glass windows, the robins were singing in the predawn haze, but in here it was as if the air were dead.

“Minias?” she said, her tone confused and dismayed.

“It's done,” he said gently. He came forward, scooping up her staff and handing it to her.

“Did I hurt you?” Her voice was worried, and when Minias shook his head, relief spilled over her, quickly turning to depression.

I felt sick.

“Take me home,” the demon said, glancing at me. “My head hurts.”

“Wait for me.” Minias's gaze flicked to mine, then returned to her. “We'll go together.”

Ceri held her breath as the demon approached us, his face down and wide shoulders hunched. I thought briefly about reinstating the circle but didn't. Minias stopped before me, too close for comfort. His tired eyes took in my nightclothes, Ceri's blood staining my hands, and the three circles that had nearly failed to stop Newt. His gaze rose to encompass the interior of the sanctuary, with my desk, Ivy's piano, and the stark emptiness between them. “You were the one who stole Ceri from her demon?” he asked, surprising me.

I wanted to explain that it had been a rescue, not stealing her, but I just nodded.

His head moved up and down once, mocking me, and I fixed on his eyes. The red was so dark that they looked brown, and the characteristic demonic sideways pupil gave me pause.

“Your blood kindled the curse,” he said, his red, goat-slitted eyes darting to the blood circle beside me. “She told me about shoving you through the lines last winter.” His eyes traveled over me, evaluating. “No wonder Al is interested in you. Do you have anything that might have attracted her?”

“Other than the favor I owe her?” I said, my voice shaking. “I don't think so.”

His eyes dropped to the elaborate circle Ceri had drawn for me to contact him with. “If you think of anything, call me. I'll pick up the imbalance. I don't want her coming over here again.”

Ceri's fingers on my arm tightened.
Yeah, me neither,
I thought.

“Stay here,” he said as he turned away. “I'll be back to settle up.”

Alarmed, I pulled from Ceri. “Whoa, hold up, demon boy. I don't owe you anything.”

His eyebrows were high and mocking when he turned around. “I owe you, idiot. The sun is almost up. I have to get out of here. I'll be back when I can.”