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"Like any circle?" I guessed.
She nodded, blinking in surprise when she looked up and saw the gargoyle. "Is that…," she stammered, her expression showing wonder.
"It's a gargoyle," I finished for her. "He showed up yesterday. Jenks is ticked, but all he does is sleep." I hesitated. "Should we do this somewhere else?"
Smiling a secret smile now, Ceri shook her head. "No. They're good luck, according to my grandmother. He's fine up there. She had a saying that pixies are to elves as gargoyles are to witches."
I smirked as I recalled how Jenks's kids took to Ceri, and how Ellasbeth's mother, another pure-blood elf, adored Jenks. I didn't have any such "charmed" feelings for the lump of somnolent rock in the belfry rafters, and as far as I knew, neither did any other witch. But then, I was the only witch I knew who lived in a church, which was the only place a gargoyle would stay. Something about the big bells ionizing the air or some such.
"Are you sure this isn't a problem?" I said, pointing up to him.
"No. I'd ask to make his acquaintance and for him to tie up your string if he was awake."
I stared hopefully up at the gray winged shape, but he didn't move. Not even his big fringed ears. "I'll do it," I said, then levered myself up onto the dresser top, and from there to standing. My head was in the bell, and the faint echoes hitting my ear made me shiver. I quickly tied the string to the clapper and got down.
Ceri bit the string to cut it long, then expertly shifted her pale fingers to make a three-cornered sling to set the palm-sized ring of metal into. She let it go, and it swung gently at chest height above the dresser. "There," she said, backing away. "That will make a pretty light."
I nodded, conscious of the gargoyle and wondering if his or her tail curling around the pair of craggy feet had twitched. I didn't like spelling in front of people I didn't know, especially one who had taken up residence without paying rent.
"So the first step is…," Ceri prompted, and I pulled my attention back to her.
"Sorry," I said, gathering myself. "Let me set my outer circle."
Ceri nodded, and I sent my will to the ley line out back. Energy flowed, bright and pure, and I exhaled as the forces balanced in me. I kicked off my slipper and touched my toe to the metallic chalk ring. My trigger word, rhombus, echoed forcefully in my thoughts, and a molecule-thin sheet of ever-after swarmed up to arch to a close over our heads. The trigger word condensed a five-minute prep with candles and chalk to a half-second. It had taken me six months to learn to do it.
I winced at the ugly black that crawled over the half-sphere a second later, doing its best to smother the bright gold my aura had colored the typically red sheet of ever-after. The smut was a visual representation of what was on my soul. I felt ugly as I silently scuffed my slipper back on. It didn't seem to bother Ceri, but her smut level was a thousand times thicker than mine. Minus one year, I thought, hoping she had really forgiven me for yelling at her.
The gargoyle wasn't in the circle, which made me feel tons better. My hair was starting to float from the currents of energy ru
Ceri chuckled a rueful agreement, and seeing her confident nod, I took the strand and turned to the candlelit dresser. I exhaled a puff of air. Calmer, I reached for the oil.
"In fidem recipare," I said, dabbing it on my fingers and ru
Ceri's brow was furrowed, but she nodded in agreement, so I carefully coiled the strand so it lay across the ring. A drop of my blood was next, and I hardly felt the prick of the finger stick. The metal ring seemed to be warmer than it should have been when I smeared the blood onto it. "Um, iungo," I said, rubbing my palms nervously against each other to wipe off the oil and blood, then, after checking my notations, performed the gesture that cramped my right hand.
"Good," she prompted, easing closer, attention fixed on the dull gray metal.
"Rhombus," I said strongly, holding back a surge of power that wanted to slip my control, allowing only the barest amount to spill forth as I touched the ring.
A second bubble of force sprang up, and the ring of metal shifted to exist both here and in the ever-after, looking unreal and translucent. Like a ghost. I smiled at the black-and-gold sphere hanging there like one of Ivy's glass Christmas balls, the cord bisecting the sheet of unreality as it suspended the metal the charm was in. It wasn't often that I saw the bottom half of a protection circle, and though I knew it was wrong to think the black demon smut marring the glittering golden sphere of my will was pretty, I did. It looked like an aged patina.
"See if you can make it glow," Ceri prompted, but she still seemed worried.
My life is going to change with the creation of light, I thought. Gut clenched, I said, "Lenio cinis," while watching my fingers awkwardly make the invocation movement. The two had to be simultaneous, otherwise the air would burn up and snuff the spell before the co
Anxious, I held my breath and watched the sphere flash before settling to a steady burn. "Oh, my God!" I squeaked when a dropping sensation plinked through me and settled to a steady flow. The power keeping the globe burning rushed through me, and I reached to steady myself against the dresser. I couldn't take my eyes off the burning sphere.
"Breathe!" Ceri said with forced gaiety, and I took a breath and held it. Feeling the energy flow into the ball and become an ephemeral light was just too weird. It was akin to a mental vacuum, or what being in free fall could feel like. It was the oddest thing I'd ever felt, but Ceri was smiling at me through the mirror, her expression pinched and her eyes bright with moisture.
"Do you know what it feels like?" I said, tense, edgy, and excited all at the same time.
Blinking fast, she shook her head. "I can't do this. Rachel…be careful."
I swallowed hard. I could do something that no other witch or elf could do, save Lee. Demon magic. And it was easy.
And that fast, my life shifted again. I didn't change, but suddenly I was different. A small globe of light had been my signpost. I hoped it was a good portent.
Becoming used to the odd feeling of energy pulling through me quickly, I looked at my light. The glow was not the clear glow of fluorescents, but that of amber. It lit the six-sided room with a black-and-gold haze that seemed darker than the candlelight, but infinitely more far-reaching. Laying heavily upon the empty walls, it brought to mind the late sun close to the horizon that shows from under storm clouds still hanging over you, making everything look like it had a razor-thin shadow, the air full of hidden pressure and the scent of ozone. Demon magic aside, I had created it, and that made it the most everlastingly cool thing I had ever seen.
Eyeing it, I licked my lips, wondering. "What happens if I let more energy into it?"
"Rachel, no!" Ceri shouted.
Something dropped from the ceiling, thumping onto the marble top of the dresser with a sharp crack. It was the gargoyle, his red eyes wide and the tuft of lion fur on his tail bristled. I stumbled back, my elbow knocking into my protection circle to make it fall.
"Don't," he said, his voice both high and resonant.
My mouth gaping, I stared at the foot-high person before me as he shook his leathery wings and settled them against himself. Flushing a deep black, he looked at his feet and the new cracks spreading out from them. "Dragon fewmets," he muttered. "I cracked your table. I'm sorry. God in all his grace help me. I am a clay brain."