Chapter 8

Chapter

8

My fingers tingled as they traced the cramped text of my recovered book, but with both that bounty hunter Laker and Elyse's crow at the curb, I didn't dare let go completely of the ley line out in the graveyard, and I simply made a fist to squeeze the extra energy out of my hand. The unharnessed power hit the page with a little hiss, and I shifted uneasily, glancing at the hall where Ivy lay sleeping in Stef's old room before turning to the kitchen counter where Getty and Jenks were busy stringing her loom.

I'd been in a bad mood all morning, and yet a small smile found me. Matti had always asked her daughters to help set up her loom, and that Jenks and Getty had found something to do together that didn't touch upon his wife's memory seemed…important. The dark-haired pixy was making a point of including him in her design concept, and I was hoping that he might buck pixy tradition and wear something his late wife hadn't made. The two of them needed each other, did better in each other's company. Again important. It wasn't always about attraction—though that's what had moved me once, apparently.

Exhaling, I dropped my gaze to my demon book that held the curse I'd accidentally used on Brad. I'd been standing at the center island counter now for a good hour, head down as I yet again went through it carefully, page by page, looking for any hint of a substitute for that damned Atlantean mirror within the multitudes of other curses. Newt's spell books kind of sucked. There was never a table of contents and she left things out. All the time.

The sliver of cold November sun that had been here this morning was gone, and yet a good feeling suffused me despite my frustration. The church felt different, more complete with the light scent of vampire mixing with the rich aroma of brewed coffee, the tang of burnt amber, and a hint of pixy dust. After seeing Ivy's grief, I had insisted that she spend the night in Stef's old room. My former roommate had wisely moved out shortly after getting her first paycheck from the hospital, and though Ivy had stronger ties across the river in the Hollows with Nina, it was more than reassuring having her here—not for my or Jenks's sake, but for hers.

There was no way Jenks or I was going to let Ivy go home last night—not with that old grief finding her anew. My excuse that I was worried about the coven showing up had been met with a sour, eyebrow-high expression, but she had stayed, and the scent of anxious vamp was now everywhere. Most might find it unnerving, but Ivy had always been uptight, and the tangy pheromones felt like home. My life in a nutshell.

Not helpful… I mused as I flipped from a curse that colored a lock of hair permanently gray. Time would do the same thing, and it wouldn't leave any smut on your soul. And somewhat innocuous for Newt? I thought, stretching until my spine cracked.

I collapsed back into myself, my gaze going to the plate of croissants. I'd picked them up for Trent, but he hadn't shown, and yawning, I took a bite of one before returning to the book.

"Oh, that's just nasty," I said as I realized the intent of the curse before me wasn't to lightly siphon off a person's energy to give to another in need, but to rip the person's aura away entirely and use it to extend the practitioner's life. What an ugly bunch of hocus-pocus, I mused, shuddering. It was clearly illicit magic, and I hoped that Scott hadn't seen it. I didn't need any more dings questioning my reputation.

"Hey, Rache." Jenks's wing hum gave me bare warning before he landed right on the pages. "Any luck?"

"Only bad." His dust was making the print glow. With a sudden thought, I flipped to Brad's countercurse and pulled my bag closer, rummaging to find that flat stone with the hole in it. "Is Ivy showing any signs of wakey-wakey?" One eye squinted shut, I peered through the stone at the pages. Jenks's dust vanished, but no secret words or phrases appeared to replace them.

"Yeah." Jenks used his chopsticks to pull a long flake of croissant from one of the untouched pastries. "This is your five-minute warning. She's going to want coffee."

"There's a cup still in there." Intent, I set my hand on the page and ran a light trace of energy through it. Again, the print seemed to burst into glowing relief, but nothing extra showed, even when I looked at it through the stone.

Slumping, I pushed away from the counter. Crap on toast, I wasn't going to let them put me into Alcatraz because I had trusted the wrong person—even if a significant fraction of the population there was incarcerated for that reason.

"How is she doing?" I asked as I picked at my croissant.

Jenks's wings went still, the veined gossamer angled low on his back. "She's handling it better than I would have thought. Which means her grief will show in inappropriate ways."

I winced. "Not necessarily bad, if it can be channeled." Cincy, though, had been on an even keel for a while, and now that Brice wasn't aiming to take over the city, there was no one for Ivy to take her grief out on. "I practically promised her I could raise Kisten's ghost," I whispered. "It's as if she's in mourning all over again."

Jenks's wings blurred into motion at the soft squeak of a door. "I'm glad you made her stay the night," he whispered as Ivy went into the bathroom.

"I know how she gets." Eyes down, I pulled my croissant apart. "She wouldn't have taken it out on me, but there was bound to be some stupid ass at Piscary's who would push her too far. And then she'd hate herself in the morning. Probably insist on cleaning up all the blood by herself."

The pixy's sharply angled features twisted into a bittersweet smirk. "Like I said, I'm glad you made her stay the night."

No one could make Ivy do anything, but the sentiment was there, and I pulled the book closer and studied it to at least pretend we hadn't been gossiping about her. Her empty expression last night at Elyse's bungalow had torn me up, all the way back to the church, all the way through a late, uncomfortable dinner. She'd gone straight to her old room afterward under the excuse of being tired, but I had heard her muffled sobs.

To say that I was pissed at Elyse for dangling a hope that didn't exist before us was an understatement. I'd refuse to work with them for that alone, and I was really glad I'd realized that the coven's half-ass invitation was in truth a calculated way to limit me. Still, I wasn't sure what I was going to do now. I was no closer to uncursing Brad. Come June, the coven would choose a sixth member and they would vote me into Alcatraz.

My attention rose when the bathroom door opened, but Ivy made a beeline to her room, and I exhaled, feeling as if we were already walking on eggs.

"I'll see how bad it is," Jenks said, and I bobbed my head as he took off.

Head down, I flipped through pages. I had half expected Elyse to show up on my doorstep this morning and demand her book back. Embarrassment might have kept Scott's mouth shut concerning our chat, and if no one opened the glamoured Reader's Digest , the switch might not have been discovered. Maybe…

Getty's warning wing rasp sounded like summer itself, and my pulse quickened in anticipation at the soft knuckle-knock on the porch railing.

It wasn't Trent but Al, and the imposing demon hesitated on the stair as my flash of libido died. Annoyed, he stomped across the covered porch, looking odd in an enormous bearskin coat.

Oh, yeah. The other book, I thought as I glanced at it sitting atop the counter. I should have taken it to him last night—a loan until he deemed my skills enough to handle it.

"Hi, Mr. Al," Getty sang out as Al opened the French doors and came in, an extravagant mood full upon him once more. But he had seen my disappointment that he wasn't Trent, and I was embarrassed.

"Hey, Al." I focused on my book as my neck warmed. "The book with the curse to bring back the undead is by the fridge. Sorry. I should have brought it out last night. You want a croissant?"

"No, thank you…" he drawled. Ignoring the book, he took off his coat to show a more typical thick wool slacks, pressed shirt, and embroidered vest, plus a handmade scarf I had never seen before. I couldn't help but wonder who had knitted it. Ceri, perhaps?

"I have coffee, too," I added when he tossed his heavy bearskin coat to the eat-at counter.

"Coffee, I will indulge in. It is much appreciated." He hesitated as if I might get off my dead ass and pour him a cup, and when I didn't move, he frowned and went to the pot. He hadn't so much as glanced at the book I'd stolen to pay for the translocation stone, and I wondered if I'd done something wrong.

The last of the brew chattered into his traditional rainbow mug. There was a pause, and then a sigh of contentment. "This tastes so much better without the bitter ash of burnt amber."

"Yeah?" Demons once reeked of charred sap, the scent clinging to them from their forced occupation in the hellish ever-after, the reality so abused and beaten by magic that you couldn't survive on the surface. But he wasn't showing any signs of making more coffee, and I finally flipped the book closed to make a puff of burnt amber and went to run the tap.

"Well done." Al's boots clicked on the tile as he went to the book I'd stolen for him and flipped it open. "Bold is half the battle and should be rewarded when real risk is required."

Our positions had been reversed, and I threw out the old grounds. "I wasn't bold, I was pissed." My elbow ached as I put a new filter in and added fresh coffee. "They lied to me."

"Did they?" he drawled, using one finger to flip from curse to curse until he settled on the one I'd been hoping would bring Kisten's ghost back.

I measured out the grounds, accidentally spilling them. "They knew the spell wouldn't work. Bis went over it. It needs an intact body, not ashes." I should have done more than walked out with a couple of books, and I slowly exhaled to bring my anger down. I'd have to play it cool if Elyse and her little gang showed up.

Al studied the book, his lips pressed. "Perhaps it is for the best. The spell you used to draw Pierce's ghost from purgatory is bastardized from this very stirring, and like the spell you stirred when you were eighteen, the price for giving a ghost enough mass to touch is that the magic only works when the sun is absent." He closed the book with a thump. "You would have to perform it every sunset."

The water went into the reservoir, and I hit the button to start the coffee brewing as he strode across the kitchen to the other spell book. "I could do that. I would do that."

A smile quirked the demon's expression as he flipped the book open—right to the spell to uncurse Brad. "Of that, I have no doubt, but tell me, Rachel. When would you cease preforming it and let his soul rest?" He eyed me over his blue-tinted glasses. "Five years? A hundred? Two hundred? You're not only making a choice to bring him to life but taking on the decision to choose when he finally moves on to whatever awaits all of us." He turned his attention to the book, studying it. "You will decide when he dies his final death. I see no benefit for the vampire in question other than him seeing you and Ivy happy."

My arms crept up over my middle. It sounded selfish when he put it like that. "Kisten deserves to have a life. Piscary cut it short because he stood up for me."

His head bowed, Al dipped his fingers into a small pocket in his vest to withdraw a smoky-gray glass. "No one knows you have it?" he asked.

"I'm not sure." I glanced at the empty hallway, hoping Ivy wasn't hearing this. "Ivy was right about them expecting me to burgle their office for the book, but they left some guy they pulled out of retirement to guard it." I hesitated, remembering the bitter anger on Scott's youthful face. "Seeing as the only person at the curb this morning is that bounty hunter looking for Trent, I'd say either they haven't opened it up yet or they are ignoring I have it." I leaned against the counter, watching Al run that smoky glass over the print to see if anything new showed. "Maybe Scott was too embarrassed to tell them we tied him to a chair and hasn't said anything."

Al straightened from his hunch over Brad's countercurse. "Since you risked everything to recover it, consider it yours fully and unconditionally." He grimaced. "You earned it."

"You mean the one I stole for you?" I blurted, warming in embarrassment as he eyed me over his blue-tinted glasses. "I mean, thank you."

He nodded, a soft smile flickering before he hid it. "Well. That was my last idea." He pocketed the glass and closed the book with a peeved flick of the finger. "Brad Welroe's curse can't be broken. Rachel—"

"I'm not hiding in the ever-after." Annoyance and a little fear trickled through me as I nudged him aside and flipped the book open again. "As tempting as that would be with Trent stuck there as well."

"It's not hiding," Al coaxed. "It's a short sabbatical in the ever-after to build on your skills. We all take sabbaticals. Say, a hundred years? Good round number?"

Jaw clenched, I stared at the book.

"A few more spells in your chi would put you eons beyond any upstart at Camp Wanna-Be-a-Ruler," Al said. "Your gargoyle, Bis, would assuredly be rebonded to you by then, and you would be able to jump the lines. My synapses would no longer be burned. This fuddling about as a half-ass demon is making us all look bad."

I spun, annoyed. "Then help me."

"That is what I am doing," he practically growled, and my shoulders tensed. "Home is where your books are," he added as he took a sip from that rainbow mug. "I can move the entire church. Pixies, gravestones, Vivian's ghost, and all."

"I can't leave," I said, amazed that, only two years ago, he had been trying to own me, because to own and dominate had been the only way he would allow himself to care for someone. The day I'd figured that out had been as scary as all hell. That we were now arguing as peers was a fragile candle I would fight to keep lit. We did not have an equal relationship. He needed me more than I needed him: to teach, to argue with, to stand with against his kin, who were still mired in the past. The responsibility of that scared the crap out of me.

"Al, I have worked too damn hard at getting demons in reality for me to walk away," I said softly. "This is my home. Tell me you wouldn't do the same thing."

The demon slumped. Slowly he lost his bluster, and his head bowed. "I would," he said as he stared into the depths of his coffee, and from the far corner of the room, Getty sighed.

Frustrated, I crossed my arms over my middle. All for a lack of a friggin' mirror destroyed two years ago with the original ever-after. Lost.

Al shifted, and my shoulders relaxed when he began to fiddle with the curse book again. "I'm surprised Elyse isn't banging on my door," I said sourly. "Scott might be too embarrassed to tell her what happened if he got out of those zip strips."

Al snorted, then flipped to the last few pages in the book where the index would be. But Newt never bothered to make an index, and it was only a curse to turn stone into water.

"He's got a really nasty curse on him," I said as I leaned against the counter. "Yesterday, at the coven offices, I'd swear he was over a hundred. Last night at Elyse's place, he was ten. And when I looked through the transposition charm, he was about sixty. It's hard to tell." Even when he's naked.

"Mmmm?" Al ran a finger down a line of text. "Glamoured to throw you off, I suppose."

"Maybe, but he said he'd be older in the morning. I think it's a curse. Young at night, old in the day." I rocked forward to top off my mug. "He looked sixty through the transposition stone, but I couldn't touch his foot. It wasn't really there. No wonder they put him on disability. I'm surprised they pulled him back into active duty. He was downright bitter when I asked who cursed him."

Al's brow furrowed as he studied the book. "I don't know any curse that does that."

"Newt's time and space calibration curse, maybe?" I offered, remembering how the half-mad demon had pushed the captured soul of an undead vampire forward and back to see if time and space were still running congruently. I had modified it to push a lily two years into the future to torment Constance with a super-scented plant. It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Al shifted in a soundless sigh. "Perhaps, but Newt's curse requires direction. It does not wax and wane without prompting." His expression shifted to one of worry. "Ah, you still have that book, yes? I mean, you didn't loan it to your—ah, Trent, did you?"

I sipped my coffee, thinking. "Perhaps Scott tried to twist it and did it wrong and ended up sending his body back and forth through time instead of whatever it was he wanted to move." I frowned, remembering the ache of sending the lily. It had been connected to me, and it drew on my body's resources to stay alive through the spell. "He must have found a way to pull energy from the ley lines to survive."

And then Al's last question hit me. You still have that book, yes? But it wasn't his words as much as the concern he was trying to hide that struck me. He was worried? About that spell? Why? All it did was move things through time. Badly, if Scott was any indication.

But Scott had done it wrong.

Huh. "Do you think I can use Newt's calibration curse to return to when the ever-after was still intact?" I said, and his eye twitched. "I pushed that lily two years forward. Maybe I could get the mirror before the ever-after fell."

"Mother pus bucket!" he shouted, a thick fist slamming down on the demon book to make a flash of power spark. "No. Even if you could, you'd be trying to seduce something from an insane demon. Do you remember Newt's state of mind then? You will do your hundred years in the ever-after as penance for being uncommonly stupid. Why do you think I gave you two books if not to keep yourself occupied? Pay the price and go on with your life. Don't be uncommonly stupid again. Two stupids do not make a smart."

I glanced at the hall, my pulse quickening. "You think I could, though?"

Al took a breath to protest, then hesitated, making a soft groan as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Let's say you go into the past until the original ever-after exists, then solve the issue of providing your body the two years of resources it will need to return. You will still have to bargain with Newt for the mirror, and she was absolute chaos. It's too dangerous."

"And Alcatraz and the coven aren't?"

"No," he said as Jenks flew in, drawn by our argument. "Newt's spell will not send your mind to fill your younger body. It will unwind your body to an earlier state. Your mind is fluid and would remain as it is, but your body will not. The energy demands alone to return will kill you."

Jenks's dust flashed an alarmed red. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Rache, I know what he's saying here. Remember what happened when you made that lily grow two years in two minutes? There's no way you can take the long way home. You'd have to hide from everyone."

"So we add another spell or two to get around the energy needs," I said.

Al used a single finger to possessively draw the book away from me, closer to him. "And what if you find a way and are successful? Do you remember seeing another version of yourself during that time? No, because you were not there."

"Yeah, well, maybe that's because I stayed out of sight."

But as I paged through the curse book, searching for that spell that spindled auratic energy, I felt a drop of foreboding. "Soon as I get there, I'll twist a doppelganger charm. Make myself look like someone else. Or I could return to a time when I was out of the city. That trip up to Mackinaw, maybe." When Kisten was still alive? flickered in my mind. I could see him, but what would be the point other than giving myself more heartache? I couldn't risk possibly changing anything. He was gone—even his ghost was out of reach.

Oblivious to my thoughts, Al flung a hand into the air as Jenks dropped down, his tiny, angular face pinched in worry. "Rache, you could have died moving that lily."

"But I didn't." I found the curse to siphon energy and began studying it.

"Only because a plant has a tiny metabolic need," Jenks protested. "You're talking about a person. Do you have any idea what you consume in a week, let alone two years?"

"Here," I said as I pointed at the curse I wanted, and Al paused in his huff to glance at it. "I can use this to spindle my life's energy on the way out, stockpiling it to use when I come forward. Store it in the collective."

"Right from your soul, eh?" Al said sourly. "This curse is designed to kill, itchy witch."

"So I modify it," I coaxed as I waved Jenks's dust away. He was hovering far too close.

"Rache, I can't come with you." Red-faced, Jenks spun as Ivy's boots sounded in the hall.

I froze, sure she hadn't heard what we were talking about. She seemed far too lost in her own misery, her face puffy and pale as she took in Al standing at the counter. Her slacks were wrinkled and her shirt untucked, but it was the emptiness in her expression that tore at me.

"Good morning, Ivy Tamwood," Al said, practically baring his wide, flat teeth at her.

Ivy's eyes flashed pupil black in annoyance before regaining their usual brown. "What is she doing now?" she asked as she shuffled to the coffee maker.

I glanced at Al, peeved. "I've decided to give the coven what they want, proof that I cursed Brad with illicit magic," I lied. "I'll be in Alcatraz by the end of the week."

Ivy turned, coffee in hand. "Thanks for the heads-up," she said, clearly unconvinced.

A frustrated red and gold dust spilled from Jenks, and Al glowered.

"Yep." I turned to the curse in question. It didn't seem too complex, even if it was one of Newt's. It was likely already in the collective. All I had to do was say the words and accept the smut. "On second thought, perhaps I should become the coven's puppet. I'm sure I'll have time to keep Cincinnati together between fending off the coven's attempts at forcing me to give them every last demon secret I know."

Al cleared his throat, and Ivy numbly sipped her coffee, trying to wake up.

"Or I could go down rabbit hole number three," I finished.

Jenks flashed an alarmed red and Al's chin lifted. "Which is more likely than the other two to kill you," the demon intoned. "If you remember, I was hell-bent on owning you in the past."

"The past?" Ivy went to top off her mug.

"So I go far enough that you don't know me. Five years ought to do it." I took the demon book in hand and dropped it on the counter beside Ivy. She jumped at the loud pop and edged away. I knew she didn't like that I could do magic, but I wanted her to see this. "I can use Newt's curse to go back to when the original ever-after still existed and get an Atlantean mirror. Bring it forward, uncurse Brad, expunge my record, stick it to the coven." I took a breath, hoping I wasn't making a mistake.

Ivy's eyes flicked to mine, her hope and pain obvious. "The past? Kisten…"

"Five years," I said, feeling like a shit-heel. "I'd still be interning at the I.S. Ivy, I can't—"

"This is academic," Al said, pulling my attention from Ivy. "The energy needed to return forbids it. Newt developed that curse to test the balance of time and space within the ever-after. She used surface demons as visual markers because they are nothing but the souls of the undead in purgatory. Yes, they moved back and forth through time, but they have no caloric needs."

"You would be right there, and I won't be able to help you," Ivy whispered, and I pulled her into a quick hug. She stumbled, her grace gone.

"Look." I let her go and turned to the book. "It's a dark curse, yeah, but only because you are taking energy from someone. If I take my own, spindle it with this curse here…" I flipped through the book, my finger holding the place of the original curse. "Store it in the collective. Maybe the vault. No one goes in there. I can use it on the trip home."

"It's too dangerous when you can simply move yourself and all that you care about to the ever-after," Al insisted. "Give everything a chance to pass. There's no need to risk yourself."

"There is every need!" I shouted, and anger flashed across him. "I can not do that. I will not ask Ivy, and Jenks, and everyone I care about to move to the ever-after, exiled into taking little sips of life when they think they can avoid detection. This is my home. And I'm not leaving it if there is one shred of a chance that doing something bold, and inventive, and yeah, a little dangerous, will allow me to not only stay but make my place more certain."

Ivy slumped where she stood, Jenks's wings making an obvious hum until he landed on her shoulder. They both looked miserable, but I was more concerned about Al, his head down and avoiding me.

"Al, you hid for thousands of years, and nothing good came of it," I pleaded, thinking he looked depressed. "It's my risk. My decision. But I need help. Please."

For a moment, I thought he was going to walk out, but then he came closer, jaw set as he nudged me out of the way and he took control of the book. Head down, he silently studied it, his brow furrowing. "Your body will grow younger, but your mind will not," he said, voice distant as he talked about the curse I'd used to move the lily through time. "You will be limited to taking things with you that existed at your target date, or they will vanish en route."

"Yes!" I exclaimed, hearing his agreement to help me.

"I would also suggest not twisting the curse in the church. You need someplace hidden that hasn't changed in five years. The tunnels perhaps? Or Eden Park. There's a ley line there."

"Five years!" Jenks exclaimed. "Rachel doesn't have anything from five years ago. She lost everything when she quit the I.S."

"My shoulder bag is that old," I said, my enthusiasm faltering as I saw Ivy's fear. Jenks, too, was not happy, bobbing up and down in frustration. Finding a place to twist it wasn't a problem. I could probably find money that was that old. I'd have to make the doppelganger charm when I got there, as I doubted the spell itself or the materials to craft one would survive the trip. My new transposition charm, however, should be okay, seeing as it worked through my mind and my mind would be unchanged. The stone itself was probably older than the sun.

"But the ley lines," Jenks protested. "You're using them to run the spell, right? What about when the Goddess destroyed them?"

Panic froze me, but as I looked at Al, I knew there was an answer. He looked reluctant to speak…and my jaw clenched.

"The day the lines went down will not be an issue," he admitted. "The curse will use the line it originates with until it's completed, blipping over the span of no-magic." His gaze turned to me. "You would use the new lines on the way out, and the old ones on the way back. I'm more concerned with finding something to indicate when you need to end the curse to arrive when you want." Al frowned, his mood bad. "A marker of sorts. Do you have anything that was broken five years ago? If you carry it with you, you can end the traveling curse when it becomes whole and be exactly when you want to be."

Adrenaline was a heavy wash, but there was nothing to fight, nothing to flee, and I jiggled on my toes. "I can go back in little hops until I get to the time period where I want to be."

Al's expression soured. "That is an extremely bad idea. Excuse me."

"Yeah, well, it's the only one I got," I snapped.

Al dropped the book and stomped away. "I can do this," I said, then jumped at the glass-shaking thump when he slammed the door to the porch. "Where are you going?" I shouted, but he never slowed, slogging out into the cold November morning as if on his way to war. "It's all here. All I need to do is dovetail it together," I said softly, frustrated and worried.

Until I realized Ivy was scared to death. Then I was just worried.

"Don't sweat it, Ivy. I'm going with her," Jenks said, and my head jerked up.

"No, you aren't," both Ivy and I said as one, and the sound of his wings shifted into an irritating whine as he flipped us both off. Matalina had been alive five years ago. It would break his heart to leave her, and it would break mine if he stayed there in the past.

I wouldn't be able to contact Ivy. Trent, either. Al was exiled into the ever-after five years ago and wouldn't know me. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.

"Try to stop me, witch," Jenks said belligerently. "Someone needs to watch your six."

"Truer words may never have been spoken, but you aren't coming," I said. "Ivy, I can do this," I added, but when I moved to give her a hug, she dropped a step back, clearly upset.

"Don't touch me," she said, voice raspy, and I jerked my hand away. Jenks froze in the air, and we stared at her as she quietly panicked. "Just because you survived the five years between then and now doesn't mean you don't go back tomorrow and get yourself killed."

"I have that same risk every day," I pleaded. "I have to try. How else am I going to get the coven off my case? I am not going to be their demon slave, and I'm not going to hide in the ever-after for a hundred years while they live out their lives and die!"

For three heartbeats she stood there, expression stricken. "I have to go," she said, then spun, head down as she strode from the kitchen.

"Ivy?" I called, but my impetus to follow her died when I realized Al was coming in from his wagon, arms swinging and shoulders hunched as he wove through the graveyard. Torn, I skidded to a halt. He was going to help?

"I got her," Jenks said, then darted out.

Lip between my teeth, I waited, nervously flipping the book to the energy-spindling curse. Pentagram to contain the curse, linking object to link, words to access the demon collective. The curse was there. All I'd have to do is set it up and run it.

"I thought you weren't going to help," I said as Al came into the kitchen, two lengths of a black gold chain dangling from his tightly fisted hand.

"I broke this about five years ago," he said as he held them out.

His mood was closed, and I gingerly took them, stifling a shiver as they coiled into my palm with a cool sensation.

"It will get you to your target date," Al said distantly, as if it didn't matter, as if he hadn't given me a real chance. "Travel back until it regains its unbroken state, then stop. I can guarantee you that I did not know you then. You should be safe. From me."

Safe from him…Elation was a heady wash. He thought I could do this. I could do this. "And to get back?"

"That's simple. Break something an instant before you leave and take it with you as a marker. It will mend on the way out. When it breaks again on the return trip, you are home."

Home, I thought. Odd. I'd be going somewhere without ever leaving it. "Thank you."

A tense, false grin crossed him. "Don't thank me yet. I suggest that you register how you twined these two curses into a new one into the collective."

"So I can make the return trip easier?" I guessed, and he shook his head.

"No, my thought is that by registering the blended curse in the collective, you can prevent anyone else from using it."

I bobbed my head at his logic. Without a cost-for-use clause, no other demon could duplicate what I did unless they independently invented it themselves. I'd never registered a spell with the cost-of-use clause, but I knew how in case I ever made a spell anyone else would want.

"I know your reasons for doing this, and they are worth the risk." Worry pinched his brow, making him look old. "Keep your presence light. Little changes will be absorbed, but anything large will settle in your mind and drive you mad."

Newt, I thought, stifling a shudder.

"You remember the words to register a spell?" he asked, and I nodded again. "Good. And stay out of my sight," he added. "If I encounter you with your current skill level, I will try to snag you as a familiar, regardless of not knowing you then."

"Okay." I flipped the book closed. I had so much to do.

"Jenks!" I shouted. "You up for a trip out to Second-Hand Charm?"