Pure Blood Part 26

Rhoda picked up the pad and frowned at it. "You were attempting to copy the workings," she said, not bothering to hide the accusation in her voice. "Why did you do that?"

"It's a very long story." I sighed. The scents and sounds and vision so vivid they hurt were fading, and now I just felt like I'd gone a few rounds with Batman and lost.

"Tell me what you did," said Rhoda. Hex it if I wasn't ten years old again, having to explain why one of her favorite gla.s.ses was broken.

I closed my eyes, ma.s.saging my forehead with my index fingers. "I was just... writing out the lettering," I muttered. "And all of a sudden I couldn't see. The pain... it was like getting hit by a truck and I felt this ... sort of... like my mind was being pushed out, by my senses. Everything went up to eleven." The best way I could describe what had happened, truly.

When I opened my eyes, Rhoda's lips were pressed into a thin line. I had never seen her face exactly like this-her eyes were sharp and wide, and she was breathing through her nose. I was shocked when I realized that my grandmother was scared.

"This can't be happening," she muttered, putting her hands over her face. "Luna, tell me exactly exactly what you did." what you did."

"I just copied the symbols," I said, puzzled. "That's all."

"Grandma, are you okay?" Sunny said anxiously. "Do you need to lie down or take your pills?"

"You copied the working in your own hand. When a witch copies workings in her own hand, energy is transferred into the spell," Rhoda continued as if she hadn't heard Sunny. "Into "Into a spell. The working absorbs the witch's latent magick and that's what makes a working possible, how it manifests." She fixed her panicked gaze on me. a spell. The working absorbs the witch's latent magick and that's what makes a working possible, how it manifests." She fixed her panicked gaze on me. "You "You absorbed it. All that magick..." absorbed it. All that magick..."

"Okay, a plain-English translation would be good at some point," I said, giving Sunny the she's-crazy look. Sunny was nibbling on her lip like it was nutritious, eyes flicking between Rhoda and me.

"A Path, is what they're called," said Rhoda slowly. "Witches who absorb magick rather than expend it. They store it in themselves and are a human focus for a working. They're very rare." She took a breath and blinked, and she was back to the familiar scary-fairy grandmother I knew. "But Paths are always witches, never weres, so this must have just been something you did to yourself with that filthy blood relic. I'm glad you're all right." She stood up, brus.h.i.+ng herself off like close contact with me had soiled her, and went into the kitchen.

Sunny stared at me. "What the Hex is going on?"

"You tell me!" I hissed. "One minute I'm sitting here minding my own business and the next she's babbling on about Paths and storing magickal energy and witches!"

"I hate to tell you she's right," said Sunny. "But Paths are are those of the blood. Not weres. It doesn't make sense." those of the blood. Not weres. It doesn't make sense."

I curled up, hugging one of the big throw pillows to me. "Actually, it makes a lot of sense to me. Unfortunately."

"Oh G.o.ds," Sunny muttered. "Luna, it can't can't happen. You're happen. You're not not a witch-trust me." a witch-trust me."

"Just because it's never never happened doesn't mean it happened doesn't mean it can't can't happen," I muttered. "And how do you know for sure, anyway? Serpent Eye pack magick is different for everyone who gets the bite. I may not be the first were to have Path magick." Up until now, I'd always a.s.sumed I was defective, devoid of magicks because I had chosen to be Insoli. But the more I talked and the more Sunny shook her head, the surer I became. happen," I muttered. "And how do you know for sure, anyway? Serpent Eye pack magick is different for everyone who gets the bite. I may not be the first were to have Path magick." Up until now, I'd always a.s.sumed I was defective, devoid of magicks because I had chosen to be Insoli. But the more I talked and the more Sunny shook her head, the surer I became.

It made sense now, the sinuous p.r.i.c.kle I felt every time I was close to powerful magick. My aversion to workings and circles and all the other trappings of being a witch. And here I had thought it was just psychological baggage from my childhood.

I voiced this to Sunny, and she slowly nodded.

"I'd believe that at least, Luna. Paths are extremely sensitive to s.h.i.+fting energies."

"Yeah, that's me," I said. "Sensitive as h.e.l.l to the s.h.i.+fting energies."

"If this is true ... and I'll admit, you may not be the first. There were reports right around the Inquisition of witches who-"

"Sunny," I said. "Less history. More helping me figure out a way not to explode whenever I brush up against magick."

"I'll help you as much as I can," said Sunny. "But I'm not a Path, or a were. Just the standard-issue caster witch ... I don't know anything about this branch of magick."

"Thanks anyway." I sighed. She worried her hands together.

"Do you still want to spend the night?"

"No," I said, standing and putting the Skull back into the tote bag. "Right now I think I just want to go home." I shouldn't, of course, but after what had happened to me I wanted to be at home, in my own bed, alone. Screw whatever Seamus would try to do to me. I was beyond caring.

The cottage was dark and desolate, just the way I'd left it. No shadowy security men waiting in the bushes in full tac gear. No trip wires in front of my door.

I put the Skull on the high shelf of the downstairs closet, with boxes of old shoes that I kept meaning to sell online, and went to my bedroom to find my backup gun. Morgan would probably chew me a new a.s.s for losing the Glock, but right now all I cared about was firepower, so I loaded my father's .38 revolver with hollow-point slugs and set it on my nightstand. I flopped onto the bed, intending to rest for just a minute before taking a shower, and when I woke up again it was morning, and my alarm clock was pinging at me.

Not my alarm clock, I realized after a second. Something from downstairs, an insistent ding ding ding ding ding ding that no one with normal ears would even notice from this far away. that no one with normal ears would even notice from this far away.

I followed the noise into my office and saw that my e-mail in-box was blinking with a new message.

No sender, the address line informed me. Sent from an anonymous box. The message was one word. the address line informed me. Sent from an anonymous box. The message was one word. Look. Look.

A video attachment blinked at the top of the message.

s.h.i.+t. I already knew I wasn't going to like this.

The image jumped into focus, a grainy handheld digital camera. Three plain black chairs against a blank white wall. In the chairs sat three bodies, tied down and slumped over, their heads covered in hoods. One of the anonymous suited security thugs came into the frame and s.n.a.t.c.hed the hoods off. My stomach lurched, even though I'd half known what I'd see.

Victor Blackburn was tied in one chair, his face bleeding from a recent beating. He was gallows-pale, his eyes unfocused. The other figures were Shelby and Valerie. Shelby looked scared, but she wasn't panicking, and her expression was enraged. If I were the security thug, I wouldn't get too close.

Seamus stepped in front of the camera, bending down to look directly into it. "You have two hours to bring the Skull to me. Since I know you won't just give it back, I propose this: partic.i.p.ate in the Certamen Letum, Certamen Letum, werewolf. If you best me, I'll release my hostages. If you don't... well, you can figure out the rest." He smiled thinly, and I dug my nails into my palm. The son of a b.i.t.c.h was enjoying this. "The O'Halloran Tower. I think you know where that is. Two hours." werewolf. If you best me, I'll release my hostages. If you don't... well, you can figure out the rest." He smiled thinly, and I dug my nails into my palm. The son of a b.i.t.c.h was enjoying this. "The O'Halloran Tower. I think you know where that is. Two hours."

The screen went dark.

To my credit, I only sat frozen with disbelief for about thirty seconds before I grabbed up the phone and dialed Sunny. She answered groggily. "Luna, it's six-thirty in the morning."

"What's the Certamen Letum?" Certamen Letum?"

Silence. "Where did you hear that?"

"Seamus O'Halloran," I said grimly, "of course. He has Shelby. I have two hours to bring him the Skull and partic.i.p.ate in whatever-it-is."

"It's a contest," said Sunny, and I heard s.h.i.+fting as she sat up in bed. "A witch's contest. Literally, 'contest to the death.'"

I had figured it was something melodramatic like that. "So what, we get in a big ring and poke each other with sticks while alien lizard-men look on?"

"It's not funny," said Sunny. "Two caster witches face each other inside a working circle and they raise their energy until one of them burns themselves out. Or dies."

She was right, that didn't sound terribly amusing. "What does he want from me, then? I'm not a witch."

Sunny sighed. "No, you're not. But it doesn't sound like you've got many options here."

Exactly one option, really, because I had absolutely no doubt that Seamus would kill Victor, Shelby, and Valerie if I didn't show up within the two hours-less than two, now.

"Thanks, Sunny," I said slowly. "Thanks for everything."

"Luna .. ." she started, but I hung up the phone and unplugged it from the wall. Knowing Sunny, she'd keep calling until I answered out of pure irritation. And now I needed to concentrate.

I went into the sitting room, and rummaged in the drawer of the entry table until I found one of Sunny's old pieces of chalk. I kicked the rug aside and drew a double circle, closing myself inside it. I sat cross-legged, trying to ignore the sensation that I was slowly sinking into deep water as the circle closed.

"Asmodeus," I spoke aloud, clearly and sharply. Only once. All that chanting in dead languages that blood witches went through during a summoning was overrated. All you really really needed to do was think about them. They always listened, and watched. Waited. needed to do was think about them. They always listened, and watched. Waited.

"You called me, Insoli. I was not wrong about your impending trouble."

Asmodeus appeared as if he were s.h.i.+elded by a column of gold smoke, flickering and half translucent. I swallowed. Even half there, the daemon set every nerve and instinct in me on end, screaming to get away. He was Other, dangerous.

"I'm facing Seamus O'Halloran in the Certamen Letum," Certamen Letum," I said. "And I'm calling on your promise to me." I said. "And I'm calling on your promise to me."

"Ah, but I have already delivered your desire to you." Asmodeus's face was obscured, but I swear he smirked. " Asmodeus's face was obscured, but I swear he smirked. "I restored the other creature, the man, when you wished it." restored the other creature, the man, when you wished it."

"You poisoned him," I spat. "It was not not what I wanted." what I wanted."

"And it is not, often."

"Seamus O'Halloran is trying to use the Skull of Mathias for his own ends," I said desperately. "And I'm trying to stop him. Isn't that worth something?"

"What would you you use the Skull for, Insoli? Can you answer truthfully?" use the Skull for, Insoli? Can you answer truthfully?"

"I'd sink that thing to the bottom of Siren Bay," I answered. "I never want to see it again. I hate this, all of this idiotic warring over something that was never meant to be used by people in the first place. It's a perversion."

Asmodeus considered, his gold skin emitting a soft, pulsating glow that was brighter than the early morning sun.

"Go to your witch's contest. I will strike a bargain with you one more time." His form became corporeal, and he reached into the circle and placed a hand on top of my head. A single ma.s.sive chill racked me, as if my body had been encased in ice. His form became corporeal, and he reached into the circle and placed a hand on top of my head. A single ma.s.sive chill racked me, as if my body had been encased in ice. "Make no mistake, Insoli. One day, I will ask you to repay my terms. And you will have no more recourse. You accept?" "Make no mistake, Insoli. One day, I will ask you to repay my terms. And you will have no more recourse. You accept?"

"Yes," I whispered, shaking. "I accept."

"Face O'Halloran knowing that I have aided you. And do not call me again."

"Then don't keep showing up!" I snapped. Too late. He was gone, leaving behind that charred smell of broken barriers and foreign magick.

CHAPTER 30.

I waited the full two hours to go to O'Halloran Tower, and I brought my gun, for all the good it would do me. I really considered leaving the Skull behind, trying to bluff Shelby, Victor, and Valerie free, but in the end I carried it inside using the same canvas bag I'd carried it out in.

The lobby of the tower was deserted when it should have been the fullest, just at the start of the workday. One elevator was operational, standing open, deceptively bright and calm.

I rode it to Seamus's office, and I took out the revolver, sliding my finger along the trigger guard, ready. I didn't expect to use it, but it was familiar, and secure. I'd planned to die fighting ever since I'd gotten the bite, and I hadn't changed my mind.

Two security thugs derailed my grand plans as soon as the elevator reached Seamus's office. They patted me down and took away the revolver. "What did you think you were gonna do with that?" one snorted.

"Put your head up your a.s.s and I'll show you," I snarled. He pulled a mock-scared expression and then pointed at the bag.

"That the object Mr. O'Halloran asked for?"

"Do you have any more stupid questions for me?" I snapped. "Want to know if I come here often, perhaps?"

He jerked his head at the second thug, who led me into the private room behind the desk. "She's here, Mr. O'Halloran," he murmured, and got the h.e.l.l out.

Not that I blamed him in the least. Seamus glided forward, clad in black slacks and a crew-neck sweater. It was no robe with a pentagram topped with a headdress of antlers, but it was intimidating enough.

"Thank you for being on time, Detective," he said, inclining his head. "And for not attempting anything stupid."

I swallowed and thrust my chin out. "You don't know that."

He smiled. Not an evil smile by any stretch. No moustache-twirling or sardonic smirking. Just a small, satisfied expression that a.s.sured everyone he was in complete control.

b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

"I'm sure we don't want unpleasantness at this late date, Detective Wilder. Show me the Skull."

"Show me Shelby and Valerie and Victor," I countered, holding the canvas bag closer.

"They're not here," said Seamus. "Trust me, I've seen all the same spy movies you have, Detective. They're in the secure room in the bas.e.m.e.nt. I think it was a bomb shelter at some point. Very quiet and secluded, to avoid any questions about screaming. But they're alive. I am a worthy witch. I keep my promises."

I looked into Seamus's eyes, trying to see the lie there. He betrayed nothing. But he was was a worthy witch. Evil, ambitious, depraved, but still a witch. And they were all OCD about the honor-and-promises c.r.a.p. a worthy witch. Evil, ambitious, depraved, but still a witch. And they were all OCD about the honor-and-promises c.r.a.p.

"Fine," I said, pulling the Skull out of the bag. "Let's get this stupid Certamen Certamen or whatever over with." or whatever over with."

Seamus held out his palm and I slapped the Skull into it. "Very good," he said. He went and set it back on its pedestal, and then bowed to me, gesturing to a circle worked into the gaudy floor tiles I hadn't noticed before. "Please."

I made sure we both stepped into the circle at the same time, and Seamus brought his hands together and muttered a few words to close the circle and bring up the energy.

It snapped shut around us like the jaws of a trap, and I almost staggered under the weight of Seamus's power. He was stronger than Sunny by a thousand times, even stronger than my grandmother. Even Alistair Duncan hadn't been this bad.

"By the laws laid down at Rouen in 1597, we battle for honor and for prestige on the even field of a working circle," Seamus said, muttering quickly like you say grace when you're really, really hungry and don't mean it anyway. "Do you stand as a combatant of your own free will, so bound until the contest is ended?"

"Um," I said. "Sure. Yes. I do."

Seamus nodded. "Very good. Unfortunately, I do not."

And as his power hit me, blue flames that burned my clothes and skin and seared me body and soul, I saw just how foolish I'd been. I'd let my worries for Shelby blind me to the fact that once Seamus had the Skull, he didn't need to be honorable anymore. And he didn't need me alive.

You'd better believe I fought, though. I tried to draw the power into me like when I'd copied the runes. I tried to feel the strength Asmodeus had imbued me with and just as quickly screamed as I felt the cold certainty of the daemon's gift burned away by Seamus's magick.

"Whatever little tricks you might have picked up," said Seamus, "won't do you a d.a.m.n bit of good inside that circle. I'm as safe from you as you are from an inmate at the jail."

"Hex ... you ..." I moaned, and then I couldn't speak anymore. My heartbeat fluttered, and it was hard to draw a breath. I was angry, at my own arrogance and that I'd made a deal with Asmodeus for no reason and that someone like Seamus O'Halloran had outsmarted me with casual effort.