Black Magic Sanction

"Shut up, runt," Al muttered, knowing that to backhand him would start a contest that would end with Pierce unconscious and a big mess to clean up. It was easier to ignore him. Al had snared the clever witch within an hour of his first escape, the demon taking great pains to keep us apart during my weekly lessons until Al realized I was ticked with Pierce for having willingly gone into partnership with Al. Partnership? Hell, call it what it was. Slavery.

Oh, I was still impressed with Pierce's magic, which far outstripped mine. His quick one-liners, in his odd accent, aimed at Al when the demon wasn't listening still made me smirk. And I wasn't looking at his long, wavy hair, or his lanky build, much less his tight ass, damn it. But some time shortly after seeing him naked under Carew Tower's restaurant, I'd lost the teenage crush I'd had on him. It might have been his insufferable confidence, or the fact that he wouldn't admit how deep in the crapper he was, or that he was just a little too good at demon magic, but for whatever reason, that devilish smile that had once sparked through me now fell flat.

"I'm stepping out for a tick," Al said as he buttoned his coat. "Merely checking something. A tidy curse is a well-twisted one! Pierce, make yourself useful and help her with her Latin while I'm gone. Her syntax sucks."

"Gee, thanks." The modern phrases sounded odd with Al's accent.

"And don't let her do anything stupid," he added as he adjusted his glasses.

"Hey!" I exclaimed, but my eyes darted to the creepy tapestry whose figures seemed to move when I wasn't looking. There were things in Al's kitchen that it was best not to be alone with, and I appreciated the company. Even if it was Pierce.

"As the almighty Al wishes," Pierce said dryly, earning a raised eyebrow before Al vanished from where he stood, using a ley line to traverse the ever-after to get to Newt's rooms.

In an instant, the lights went out, but before I could move, they flashed back to life, markedly brighter as Pierce took over the charm, telling me it wasn't the demon-curse light charm I knew. Alone. How... nice. I watched him meticulously drape his damp dish towel to dry on the top of the cushioned bench that circled the central fire pit, and then, jaw clenched, I looked away. Standing, I moved to keep the slate table between us as Pierce crossed the room with the grace of another time.

"What is the invocation today?" he asked, and I pointed to it on the table, wanting to look at it again myself but willing to wait. His hair fell over his eyes as he studied it.

"Sunt qui discessum animi a corpore putent esse mortem. Sunt erras." he said softly, his blue eyes shocking against his dark hair as he looked up. "You're working with souls?"

"Auras," I corrected him, but his expression was doubtful. There are those who believe that the departure of the soul from the body is death. They are wrong, I silently translated, then took it from him to set it with the bottle of aura, bowl, and the name scribed with my blood. "Hey, if you can't trust your demon, who can you trust?" I said sarcastically, gathering up the pile of discarded signature attempts and moving them out of the way to the mantel. But I didn't trust Al, and I itched to look at the curse again. Not with Pierce, though. He'd want to help me with my Latin.

The tension rose at my continued silence, and Pierce half-sat on the slate table, one long leg hanging down. He was watching me, making me nervous as I filled the inscribed bowl from a pitcher. It was just plain water, but it smelled faintly of burnt amber. No wonder I go home with headaches, I thought, grimacing as I overfilled the bowl and water dribbled out.

"I'll get that," Pierce said, jumping from the table and reaching for his dish towel.

"Thanks, I'm good," I snapped, snatching the cloth from him and doing it myself.

He drew back, looking hurt as he stood before the fire pit. "I'll allow I've gotten myself in a powerful fix, Rachel, but what have I done to turn you so cold?"

My motion to clean the slate slowed, and I turned with a sigh. The truth of it was, I wasn't sure. I only knew that the things that had attracted me once now looked childish and inane. He'd been a ghost, more or less, and had agreed to be Al's familiar if the demon could give him a body. Al had shoved his soul into a dead witch before the body even had the chance to skip a heartbeat. It didn't help that I'd known the guy Al had put his soul into. I didn't think I could take another person's body to save myself. But then, I'd never been dead before.

I looked at Pierce now, seeing the same reckless determination, the same disregard for the future that had gotten me shu

"It's not going to work, Pierce," I said flatly, and I turned away.

My tone had been harsh, and Pierce's voice lost its sparkle. "Rachel. Truly. What's wrong? I took this job to be closer to you."

"That's just it!" I exclaimed, and he blinked, bewildered. "This is not a job!" I said, waving the dish towel. "It's slavery. You belong to him, body and soul. And you did it intentionally! We could have found another way to give you a body. Your own, maybe! But no. You just jumped right into a demon pact instead of asking for help!"

He came around the table, close but not quite touching me. "I swan, a demon curse is the only way to become living again," he said, touching his chest. "I know what I'm doing. This isn't forever. When I can, I'll kill the demon spawn, and then I'll be free."

"Kill Al?" I breathed, not believing he still thought he could.

"I'll be free of him and have a body, both." He took my hands, and I realized how cold I was. "Trust me, Rachel. I know what I'm doing."

Oh my God. He is as bad as I am. Was. "You're crazy!" I exclaimed, pulling out of his grip. "You think you're more powerful than you are, with your black magic and whatever! Al is a demon, and I don't think you grasp what he can do. He's playing with you!"

Pierce leaned against the table, arms crossed and the light catching the colorful pattern of his vest. "Do tell? You opine I don't know what I'm doing?"

"I opine you don't!" I mocked, using his own words. His attitude was infuriating, and I looked at the bowl behind him, the remnant of others who had thought they were smarter than a demon now just names on a bowl, bottles on a shelf.

"Fair enough." Pierce scratched his chin and stood. "I expect a body needs proof."

I stiffened. Shit. Proof? "Hey, wait a minute," I said, dropping the dish towel to the table. "What are you doing? Al brought you back, but he can take you out again, too."

Pierce impishly put a finger to his nose. "Mayhap. But he has to catch me first."

My eyes darted to the band of charmed silver around his wrist. Pierce could jump ley lines where I couldn't, but charmed silver cut off his access to them. He couldn't leave.

"What, this?" he said confidently, and my lips parted when he ran his finger around the inside of the silver band and the metal seemed to stretch, allowing him to slip it off.

"H-How," I stammered as he twirled it. Crap on toast. I'd be blamed for this. I knew it!

"It's been tampered with so I can move from room to room here. I tampered with it a little more is all," Pierce said, sticking the band of silver in his back pocket, his eyes gleaming. "I've not had a bite of food free of burnt amber in a coon's age. I'll fetch you something to warm your cold heart."

I stepped forward, panicking. "Put that back on! If Al knows you can escape, he'll—"