White Witch, Black Curse

"I know." Not bothering to explain, I picked up the cylinder and made the big no-no of putting it to my lips and doing my impression of "The Drunken Chef." The hint of warmth slipped down my throat as I sipped the level back to where it should be. My mom had said to do the spell exactly the same, and being stupid at eighteen, that's how I had leveled it. Who knew? It might be why it had worked. Arcane earth spells were notoriously difficult to reproduce. It might be something that nebulous that had made it possible the first time.

Three separate batches of the yew and lemon mix were already waiting, and leaving them where they sat, I dumped the wine into the mortar already holding the snipped bits of holly leaf I'd taken from Ivy's Christmas centerpiece earlier. "Don't get your dust in that," I said, waving Jenks off from the top of the open bottle, and the pixy shifted to alight on the overhead rack of spelling utensils instead. Ivy had replaced the tacked-together rack with a solid redwood mesh, and my spelling supplies were again where they should be instead of shoved in cupboards.

"So-o-o-orry," he muttered, and I nodded, more concerned with the spell than his pique.

"Ivy roots," I murmured, reaching for the little measuring cup full of the tiny little rhizomes from one of Jenks's plants in the sanctuary. It had to be airborne roots, not underground, and Jenks's kids had been delighted to harvest them for me. The knobby roots went in, and with a few twists, the scent of chlorophyll mixed with the cheap wine.

It was a lot easier to crush everything this time, not being sick now like I'd been at eighteen. My thoughts went back to Pierce as the soft sounds of rock against rock filled the kitchen, and a whisper of worry lifted through me that tomorrow might be too late. I didn't think Al would give Pierce a body until he had a buyer, enabling him to work the cost of the expensive curse into the deal. Not to mention that Pierce couldn't tap a line given the state he was in. Why would Al make him stronger if he didn't have to? I knew Al wouldn't sell to the first buyer, wanting to up the going price as far as he could. It would take a few days at least.

A curl drifted between me and the mix, and remembering something, I carefully drew a single hair into the mortar and gave the pestle two twists, grinding it before I pulled the hair out. My hair had been to my waist the first time I had done this charm, and it had gotten caught. It might be important. I was betting it was. With this and my spit, I might be investing part of myself in the spell. It was going to be hard enough getting this to work.

I straightened to crack my back. "Holy dust," I murmured, looking for it among the clutter. Jenks's wings hummed and he dropped to hover over the envelope that I'd gathered from the slats under my bed, the only place the pixies didn't clean. It was on sanctified ground, so I figured it was holy enough. And God knew my bed hadn't seen any action lately.

"Thanks," I said absently as I pulled the flap to open it. I wiped the pans of my scales with a tissue, then frowned. A thin smear of lotion showed in the bright overhead lights. Not only would it add aloe, but the dust would stick to it and I wouldn't get enough in the mix.

Sighing, I took the pans to the sink to give them a quick wash. Jenks moved back to the overhead rack, and in the black mirror the window had become, I could see a sifting of dust falling from him. He was worried.

"Ivy is going to be fine," I said over the chatter of running water. "I'll call before I go to bed, to find out how she is, okay?"

"I'm not worried about Ivy, I'm worried about you."

Metal pans swathed in a dish towel, I turned. "Me? Why?" He made an exasperated gesture that encompassed my spelling, and I huffed. "You want Al popping over anytime with the excuse of checking on me and then snagging whoever he wants? Can you imagine the trouble I'd be in if Al showed up and took, say, Trent, when I'm telling the little shoemaker to get lost?"

Jenks's small angular features pulled into a tight grimace. "Al is going to be more pissed than a fairy who finds acorns in his spider sack."

That was a new one, and I frowned as I replaced the pans and weighed out the dust, carefully tapping the envelope until the delicate balance started to shift. "He left a loophole, and I'm going to use it," I said as the instrument leveled. "Al's not taking my calls, and this is the only way I can think of to get his attention. Not to mention, this will save Pierce, too. Two birds with one stone. He'll probably treat me to dinner for outsmarting him." After he smacks me around. I looked up, seeing an unsure look on his tiny features. "What's the worst he's going to do to me? Ground me? Cancel our weekly sessions?" A private smile curved across my face and I tapped the dust from the pan into the wine medium. "Bully for him."

"Rachel, he's a demon. He might just pull you into the ever-after and not let you back."