For a Few Demons More

Ceri's eyebrows rose as she tore a chunk from her herbed bread—a strand of her hair drifting in the breeze from the open transom windows above the fixed stained glass, dark with night. "It's never safe to ask for a demon's attention, but you don't want this unsettled."

My head bobbed, and I wrangled another blob of pasta on my fork. It tasted flat, and I set my fork down. "You think Newt will come with him?"

A soft flush showed on her. "No. In all likelihood she doesn't remember you, and Minias won't allow anyone to remind her. He's reprimanded when she strays."

I wondered what Newt knew that was so terrible she had to forget it to stay halfway sane. "She took your circle. I didn't think that was possible."

Ceri delicately dabbed the corner of her mouth with a napkin to hide her fear. "Newt does what she wants because no one is strong enough to hold her accountable," she said. My anxiety must have shown, for she added, "It's skill in this case. Newt knows everything. It's just a matter of her remembering it long enough to teach someone."

Maybe that was why Minias stuck with her despite the dangers. He was picking things up, bit by bit.

Ceri reached for the remote and pointed it at the stereo. It was a very modern gesture for such an old personality, and I smiled. If you didn't know she'd spent a thousand years imaging as a demon's familiar, you might think she was a set-in-her-ways thirty-something.

The soft jazz lifting through the air cut off. "The sun is down. You should rescribe the calling circle before midnight," she said brightly, and my stomach twisted. "Do you remember the figures from this morning? They are the same."

I stared at her, trying not to look stupid. "Uh, no."

Ceri nodded, then made five distinct motions with her right hand. "Remember?"

"Uh, no," I repeated, having no idea what the co

Ceri's breath escaped her in a long sound of exasperation. "It's mostly ley-line magic," she said. "Heavy on symbolism and intent. If you don't draw it from start to finish, then I'll be the one who gets all the incoming calls—and, Rachel, I like you, but I'm not going to do that."

I winced. "Sorry."

She smiled, but I caught a grimace when she didn't realize I was watching. Ceri was the nicest person I knew, giving treats to children and squirrels and being polite to door-to-door solicitors, but she had little patience when it came to teaching. Her abrupt temper didn't mix well with my scattered concentration and haphazard study habits.

Flushing, I set my plate aside and slid the cool, sinking-into-my-legs feeling of my scrying mirror onto, my lap. I wasn't hungry anymore, and Ceri's impatience was making me feel stupid. I reached for my magnetic chalk, nervous. "I'm not very good at this," I muttered.

"Which is why you're doing it in chalk, then etching it in," she said. "Go on, let's see it."

I hesitated, looking at the big blank expanse of glass. Crap.

"Come on, Rache!" Jenks coaxed, dropping down to land on the mirror. "Just follow me." Wings going full tilt, he started to pace in a wide circle.

I arranged myself to follow his lead, and Ceri said, "Pentagram first."

I jerked my hand from the glass. "Right."

Jenks looked up at me as if in direction, and I felt a sinking sensation.

Ceri set her plate down, her disgust obvious. "You don't know a thing about this, do you?"

"Jeez, Ceri," I complained, watching Jenks flit furtively to steal the smear of honey on Ceri's spoon. "I haven't actually finished any ley-line classes. I know my pentagrams suck dishwater, and I have no idea what those symbols mean or how to draw them." Feeling dumb, I grabbed my wineglass—the white wine, not the red Ceri had brought out—and took a sip.

"You shouldn't drink when you work magic," Ceri said.

Frustrated, I set the glass down almost hard enough to spill. "Then why is it out here?" I said, a shade too loudly.

Jenks eyed me in warning, and I puffed my air out. I didn't like feeling stupid.

"Rachel," the woman said softly, and I grimaced at the chagrin in her voice. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't expect you to have the skills of a master when you're only starting out. It's just…"

"… a stupid pentagram," I finished for her, trying to find the humor in it.

She reddened. "Actually, it's merely that I wanted to get this done tonight."

"Oh." Embarrassed, I looked at the blank mirror, my reflection a gray shadow peering back at me. It was going to look like crap. I knew it.

"The wine is a carrier for the invocation blood, also washing the salt off the mirror when you're done," Ceri said, and my gaze went to the bucket, now understanding why she'd brought it out. "The salt acts as a leveler, removing the excess intent in the lines you scribe in the glass as well as bringing the acidic content of the yew back to a neutral state."

"Yew is toxic, not acidic," I said, and she nodded apologetically.

"But it will etch the glass once you coat it in your aura."

Euwie. It was one of those curses. Great. "I'm sorry for barking at you," I said softly, my gaze flicking to her and away. "I don't know what I'm doing, and I don't like it."

She smiled and leaned across the table between us. "Would you like to know the meaning behind the symbols?"

I nodded, feeling my tension ease. If I was going to do this, I really ought to.

"They are pictorial representations of ley line gestures," she said, her hand moving as if signing in American Sign Language. "See?"

She made a fist, her thumb tight to her curled index finger, angling her hand so that her thumb pointed to the ceiling. "This is the first one," she added, then pointed to the first symbol on the cheat sheet lying on the table. It was a circle bisected by a vertical line. "The thumb's position is indicated by the line," she added.

I looked from the figure to my fist, turning my hand until they matched. Okay.

"This is the second one," she said, making the "okay" sign, angling her hand so the back of it was parallel with the floor.

I mimicked her, feeling a stirring of understanding as I looked at the circle with three lines coming out the right side. My thumb and index finger made a circle, my three fingers stretching out like the lines fa

"Yes!" Ceri said, following the gesture with her own. "And the next would be…?"

Thinking, I compressed my lips and stared at the symbol. It looked like the previous one, with a finger coming out one side. "Index finger?" I guessed, and when she nodded, I stuck a finger out, earning a smile.

"Exactly. Try making the gesture with your pinkie, and you can see how wrong it feels."

I tucked my index finger back and stuck out my pinkie. It did feel wrong, so I went back to the proper gesture. "And this one?" I asked as I looked at the figure in the last space. There was a circle, so I knew that something was touching my thumb, but which finger?

"Middle one," Ceri offered, and I made the gesture, gri

She leaned back, still smiling. "Let's see them."

More confident now, I made the five gestures, reading them as I traveled around the pentagram clockwise. This wasn't so hard.

"And this middle figure?" I asked, looking at the long baseline with three rays coming up from the center equidistant from each other. It was where my hand had been when I contacted Minias earlier, and by the looks of it, my fingertips would hit the ends of the lines.

"That's the symbol for an open co