Black Magic Sanction Part 7

"Hide," I said, and he immediately dampened the heat and the light with it. "Don't do anything unless they try to take me to the hospital wing. They might give me a lobotomy."

"I won't let them" came his voice from the dark ceiling, and the faintest scratch of nail on metal sounded. The memory of him was a glow on the back of my eyelids, fading when the first door creaked open and harsh electric light made a long rectangle, shining on my untouched salad and my swollen knees.

I blinked, trying to move as a guard opened the inner door and stepped back. I couldn't get up the normal way because of my knees. Above me, Bis clung to the ceiling like a cat-size bat, my protector in case things went from bad to worse. My pulse hammered, and using my hands and the corner, I managed to wedge myself to my feet with my shaking arms. I would not go to the prison hospital. I'd die fighting first.

A shadow eclipsed the electric lights. The scent of roast pork slipped in, and my stomach growled. "I'm not going in there," came Brooke's voice, sour and slightly supercilious, and the light returned to the floor. Brooke? Brooke wanted to talk to me? Brooke? Brooke wanted to talk to me?

My chest hurt. It wasn't the medical people, at least. Maybe the dissension I'd seen in the coven chamber was deeper than I thought. A three a.m a.m. meeting couldn't be sanctioned. She was here on her own.

"I'm not going in there," Brooke said, louder this time when a guard protested. "Bring her out. I'll talk to her in that excuse of a library you have."

There was a moment of muted conversation, then a masculine, "She is is your boss's boss, you cretin! Get her out!" echoed dully. your boss's boss, you cretin! Get her out!" echoed dully.

A flashlight panned over me. "Out," someone ordered, and I shuffled into the light, feeling very... orange. The dried coffee on my jumpsuit looked like old blood, and I lifted my chin when Brooke looked me up and down, lingering on my swollen, cuffed wrists. The sprig of heather in her Mobius-strip pin had wilted, and I felt a pinch of worry when I noticed the same shape embroidered on all the guards' collars. Jeez, they had their own prison?

"Can you walk, Rachel?" she asked.

"It's Ms. Morgan, if you don't mind," I said, leaning against the wall. My stomach hurt and I was almost dizzy from the pain in my knees.

"The inmates aren't allowed in the library, Madam Coven Leader," one of the guards protested weakly, and she spun, giving him a nasty look.

Tm not not going to sit on your ugly little chairs and talk to her through plastic. The woman is cuffed. She is wearing charmed silver. She isn't going to hit me or take me hostage. She can hardly stand up, thanks to you. Rachel, this way." going to sit on your ugly little chairs and talk to her through plastic. The woman is cuffed. She is wearing charmed silver. She isn't going to hit me or take me hostage. She can hardly stand up, thanks to you. Rachel, this way."

"I told you, it's Ms. Morgan." Head down and my lank hair falling into my eyes, I shuffled after her. c.r.a.p, I could hardly move, and a sudden nausea made me glad I hadn't eaten. It would have been nice if someone had offered me a pain amulet, but we were surrounded by salt water. Besides, it would ruin the beating they'd given me.

The guards were not happy, but one jumped to open doors and clear the way. I looked back at my cell to see if Bis was still in there. Someone had tacked sunshine sunshine over the door. Ha, ha. "What time is it?" I asked Brooke as she waited for me to catch up. I felt as if I was a hundred and sixty years old, but the hope that I'd shortly be in Ivy's black tub full of hot water kept me moving. over the door. Ha, ha. "What time is it?" I asked Brooke as she waited for me to catch up. I felt as if I was a hundred and sixty years old, but the hope that I'd shortly be in Ivy's black tub full of hot water kept me moving.

The woman's low heels clicked as I followed her into the main building. "A little after three," she said, sniffing. "G.o.d, it stinks like bad sushi in here."

Most of the inmates we pa.s.sed were either in bed or sitting on top of their covers waiting for lights out. A whisper went out like a wave among them as they saw us. If it was after three here, then it was after six at home. Take into account the difference in lat.i.tude, and the sun was indeed about to rise in Cincy. A quiver of antic.i.p.ation shot through me, and I walked a little straighter. The lines in Cincy were about to close to summoning, though if you knew how, you could still jump them no matter what time of day it was.

A quick look up a.s.sured me Bis was still with me. He was crawling on the ceiling, and I could see him only when he went over a metal bar, his skin not adapting quite fast enough. When he was older, even that wouldn't show. He was a good kid.

The whispers grew to soft voices as word traveled from block to block. Alcatraz was kind of like a one-room schoolhouse. If something happened, everyone knew it in three minutes. I walked slowly to hide my pain, forcing my shoulders back and my head high as we entered the library, enclosed with a ceiling-to-floor fence. There was an oblong coffee table with several cast-off chairs around it in a cruel mimicry of a bookstore lounge. As luck would have it, I could see my empty cell, Mary, Charles, and Ralph. Mary looked shocked, her soulful eyes wide as she sat on her bed with her blanket pulled to her chin.

"This looks... comfortable," Brooke said dryly as she took off her coat, hesitating briefly before gingerly draping it over the grimy chair and sitting on it.

I looked at my equally dirty chair, knowing I wouldn't be able to get out of it once I was down. The promise of a soft cushion was irresistible, though, and I almost fell trying to sit without bending my knees. The jolt was enough to bring my eyes shut for an instant, and I gasped, taking in the scent of musty fabric and discarded books left to the elements.

"How pleasant," I said so she wouldn't see Bis crawl past the windows. "What do you want, Brooke?" I said, tired. If it was three here, it was six at home, and way past my bedtime.

She shifted, steepling her fingers and eying me from behind them. "They told me you didn't eat. Good. Don't eat anything unless it comes from me."

I uncrossed my arms from around my middle. "You know about the food?"

The woman smiled, showing me perfect teeth. "Isolating that amino acid is expensive, but we've been using it for centuries. It has an excellent success rate."

I thought of Mary starving herself for another thirty years, and I unclenched my jaw.

"Not everyone thinks you should be castrated," she said as she adjusted her skirt over her ugly knees. "Magically or otherwise. I'm your friend, Rachel. You should trust me."

Oh. Yeah. That's a good idea. I looked at the ceiling, not seeing Bis, then back to her. d.a.m.n Trent back to the Turn. This was his fault. Didn't tell them, my a.s.s. I looked at the ceiling, not seeing Bis, then back to her. d.a.m.n Trent back to the Turn. This was his fault. Didn't tell them, my a.s.s.

"I alone believe that you don't need such harsh treatment," she continued. "If you can invoke demon magic, you are-"

"A tool?" I interrupted. "A weapon? Have you ever fought a demon, Brooke? You were stupid to have risked it trying to catch me. The only reason I keep surviving demons is because they want me for other things."

I shut up, not wanting to hurt my case any more than I probably just had, but Brooke was smiling her West Coast smile. "I'm trying to help you, Rachel."

"Ms. Morgan, please." I flicked a bit of dried egg off myself, almost hitting her.

"Mor-r-r-rgan," Brooke drawled, bringing my attention back. "I don't want you to become the property of a f.u.c.king elf in your efforts to survive."

Ohhh, potty mouth! I thought, smirking. "No, you'd rather see me become I thought, smirking. "No, you'd rather see me become your your property. The coven's secret weapon. No thanks." property. The coven's secret weapon. No thanks."

The woman's tan darkened as she flushed in anger. "He can't protect you from us. Never. You think you're something special for surviving an I.S. death threat? Where do you think they get their charms from? The ones we don't keep for ourselves? We get what we want, Rachel. Always" Always"

I stifled a shiver as I recalled Vivian's charms, technically white but with devastating results, all invoked without fear of repercussion, and then Pierce, one of their own buried alive because he'd stood up to them and said that even white charms weren't enough. A fear born out of self-preservation slipped through my anger.

"Sign this," Brooke said, confident as she brought an envelope from her purse and set it on the table between us. "It gives us permission to remove your ability to reproduce and chemically take away your ability to do ley-line magic."

Somehow I managed a snort of amus.e.m.e.nt I didn't feel. "As opposed to you doing so behind prison doors and with saturated fats?"

She hesitated, and then as if having made a decision, she leaned close enough for me to smell the linen her suit was cut from, clean and light. Her eyes were bright, almost feverish, and a chill spilled through me. This didn't look good.

"I don't mind your being able to invoke demon magic," she whispered, scaring me. "I don't care that you are the beginning of demons on earth. I do do have a problem with most of the coven unable to see past their shortsighted noses, so entrenched in old fear that they can't see what you are. They would vote against me, and the majority rules, even if the majority is blind." have a problem with most of the coven unable to see past their shortsighted noses, so entrenched in old fear that they can't see what you are. They would vote against me, and the majority rules, even if the majority is blind."

My mouth went dry. "And what am I?"

"You are what we all should be!" she exclaimed, then lowered her voice as she leaned back. "The power you have? We're stunted. Half of what we could be. We can be whole, and you're the way. You are the future. I can protect you. Sign that paper, and I promise you'll come out of the anesthesia completely yourself, with your magic intact. This is a sham to get you off the coven's radar and away from Trent Kalamack."

Whoa. Schism? Try the freaking Grand Canyon. "So I'd be your personal monster, not the coven's?" I said, more than a little afraid. "I don't deal with demons." "So I'd be your personal monster, not the coven's?" I said, more than a little afraid. "I don't deal with demons."

"You do," Brooke insisted, and the soft murmur from the cells ceased. "It's on the record. You survive every time. The power you can give back to us-"

"I meant," I said, disgusted, "I won't deal with you, and I'm not signing that paper."

Brooke's expression soured. "You're being foolish. If you can't see the future, then at least look at your present. You want to go back to that hole? Fine. Or you can be moved into the warden's apartments. Low security, real food. A view." Her gaze went to the inmates watching. "Privacy. Sign the paper. You have my word you will remain as you are now."

I looked at the paper on the table between us. Remain as I was? Cold, miserable, and a continent away from home? Remain as I was? Cold, miserable, and a continent away from home? "Let's just say I took a stupid pill this morning, and I sign your paper. What will I be? Soldier? Brood-mare? "Let's just say I took a stupid pill this morning, and I sign your paper. What will I be? Soldier? Brood-mare?

The woman smiled. "Motherhood is a n.o.ble profession."

My chin went up, and I nodded. "I never said it wasn't, but anything that comes from me will be baby-s.n.a.t.c.hed by demons, Brooke sweetie."

"Way ahead of you," she said, the pen she took from her purse clicking onto the table. "You will become an egg donor," the woman said, unable to hide her eager look. "The demons would never know. You could even adopt one of your own kids. I'm going to."

She wanted one of my unborn children? Parcel my progeny out to the highest bidder? "You are disgusting," I said, but all I got from her was a bemused expression. She took a breath, and I raised my cuffed hands to stop her next words. "What time is it?" I asked, and her expression became annoyed.

"Three fifteen," she said, wiry arm shifting so she could glance at her watch.

Sighing, I sank back into the rank cushions. Almost time. Almost time. "Brooke, I'm already gone. The only reason I tried to get away from you boneheads earlier was because I wanted a couple of hours to see the sights before I headed home. Crooked Street maybe. Or Treasure Island. That sweet little bridge you're all so fond of. I can't say I like the Alcatraz tour, though. It's a little too realistic." "Brooke, I'm already gone. The only reason I tried to get away from you boneheads earlier was because I wanted a couple of hours to see the sights before I headed home. Crooked Street maybe. Or Treasure Island. That sweet little bridge you're all so fond of. I can't say I like the Alcatraz tour, though. It's a little too realistic."

Brooke snorted to show her disbelief. "We are surrounded by salt water. There are no ley lines on the island. A very expensive ward keeps witches from jumping in for a rescue. Even if you could tap a line through a familiar, which I know you don't have, you wear charmed silver."

"This?" I held up my hands to show the link on my pulped wrist. It had my name on it, and a freaking serial number. "This is really pretty," I said, dropping my arm. "But, Brooke, sweetheart, you can't hold me." Any time, Ivy. Any time, Ivy.

"I think we can." Confidence showed as she leaned back in the tatty chair.

I shook my head, smiling. "No, you can't. It's almost sunrise in Cincinnati. You know what happens when the sun rises? The lines close to summoning traffic. Oh, you can still get around with them, but a summons won't work. And you know what's going to happen just before then?" Brooke's expression was empty, but then she got it.

"You can't jump by line," she said, voice loud. "You're cut off."

I leaned forward, the beating, the humiliation, and the indignity of being locked in a metal closet all day falling from me to leave only a bitter satisfaction. "I'm not a demon," I said softly. "But I'm in their system."

A sneeze shook me, and a quiver grew in my middle. I was going home. "You should have come to talk to me," I said, wishing I could cross my knees and look smug. "I really am a nice person most times, but you just p.i.s.sed me off."

I sneezed again, and a gut-cramping feeling rose, threatening worse. "I'm going home to take a hot bath and get some sleep. Tell you what," I said, gripping the arms of the chair-as if it could keep me here a moment longer-"I understand how easy it is to underestimate me. Let's start fresh. You can either instigate a war with me or come and talk. Your choice."

Eyes wide, Brooke stood, reaching across the table to grab me. A gray blur dropped between us, hissing.

My heart beat once, hard, and I forced myself to remain seated when Bis spread his wings, tufts of fur puffed and tail switching like a cat's. One clawed foot gripped her unsigned contract, and his head was lowered, red eyes promising violence.

"s.h.i.t, it's a gargoyle!" Mary shouted, her words taken up and pa.s.sed along. "Rachel has a gargoyle!"

"Security!" Brooke shouted as she stood. She was going to lose me, and she knew it.

My head spun when Bis spread his wings and hopped to my shoulder. The unfamiliar pattern of West Coast ley lines exploded in my thoughts, harsh and jagged, tasting of broken rock. Bis could feel them all the time, and when we touched, I felt them too. The young gargoyle wrapped his tail around my neck, and tears threatened. I was going home.

I wanted to stand, but I couldn't. The pull of the summons had become painful, so I made the vampire kiss-kiss gesture to Brooke as I relaxed my grip on reality and felt the lines pull me in. The s.m.u.t for this, I would willingly take.

d.a.m.n, I had good friends.

There was no pain as my body dissolved into a thought and that thought was yanked across the continent. I wanted to go, and I'd already accepted the s.m.u.t on my soul for the imbalance I was causing. Actually, by taking the s.m.u.t on freely, the feeling of disconnection seemed to be m.u.f.fled. Or perhaps if you break the rules too many times, you start to build up scar tissue. Or maybe it was because I'd slipped from the fractured West Coast lines to the solid, warm ley lines of my birthplace. It could have been simply that the memory of Bis and his tail wrapped around my neck helped to create a feeling of comfort. But whatever it was, the usual tearing apart of soul and mind almost felt good. Like stretching. Which kind of worried me.

The faint outlines of my kitchen echoed in my memory before they became real, and the woody scent of herbs and copper cleaner tickled my nose. It was more than a little relief-it would be just my luck that a third party summoned me and I ended up in someone else's circle dressed in this hideous orange outfit with fashionable fashionable white canvas pull-on shoes. white canvas pull-on shoes.

My will seemed to stretch forward and yank me into existence. With a jolt, everything happened at once, and my aura-which had been holding me together while I existed only as a thought in the ley lines-rose through the memory of myself to build a body. My clothes, bruises, cuffs, everything, down to the egg in my hair, would come through intact. You couldn't fool the demon archive and show up clean, rested, and in a pair of designer boots. I'd tried. The charmed silver, though, would be gone. Small favors.

I took a breath, and I suddenly had lungs. Stumbling, I stayed upright as I popped into existence between the center counter and the sink. The kitchen was dim with early sunlight, shocking since it was dark where I'd been seconds ago. Ivy and Jenks were waiting, worried and tense. Jenks was flying, and all I could see wrong with Ivy was a welt on her forehead.

Immediately the shimmer of s.m.u.t-covered ever-after around me dropped. It was Ceri, then, who had summoned me. "Thank G.o.d," I said, leaning back against the center counter, my head bowed as I mumbled, "Thank you, Ceri. I owe you big." Bis wasn't here, swimming back to Pierce for the jump home, I guess.

Ivy's face was pale as she came close, taking in my tired, filthy state. "What did they do to you?" she said as she fumbled at her key chain for one of her handcuff keys. The steel rings came off, hitting the counter with a loud clatter, and I felt loved.

"Tink's little red panties, Rache," Jenks swore, pinching his nose shut as he hovered over them. "You reek like a fairy's outhouse! Ivy, get her a pain amulet, will you? And maybe one to make her not stink? Good G.o.d, how did you get so stinky? You were only gone a day!"

I smiled, glad to be home. But my expression froze when I turned to thank Ceri again. Ceri hadn't summoned me home. It was Nick.

"You putrid pile of troll c.r.a.p!" I jumped for him, hands grasping. My knees gave way and I slipped, catching myself on the edge of the counter and gasping at the sudden pain. Jenks darted into the air, and Ivy reached for me, concerned.

Nick jumped to his feet. His face was tight and angry, but that was nothing next to my outrage, and I grunted when Ivy pulled me upright and I pushed her away.

"Rache, wait!" Jenks exclaimed, silver sparkles falling from him. "He's here so Jax can make peace with Matalina. He summoned you back. We couldn't find Keasley, and Trent won't let anything get through to Ceri!"

"Bull!" I pointed at Nick, standing sullenly beside the archway to the hall with his too-long hair and faded jeans. "He summoned me, then left me to fight my way out alone!"

Ivy's eyes flashed a full, dangerous black, and Jenks's wings. .h.i.t an unusually high pitch.

"He did what?"

Nick backed into the hall, hands raised. A streak of pixy dust darting in turned into Jax. The renegade pixy had drawn the entire pixy clan with him, and I froze, stunned by the flitting silk and high-pitched voices as Matalina hovered over it all like a distressed angel.

"I didn't have a choice," Nick was saying over their noise. "Rachel, I owed them, thanks to you running off with the focus. I told you how to get out. And I flew back here to get you home! Will you listen to me? I'm trying to help!"

"Trying to help?" Ivy strode across the kitchen, pixies darting out of her way in swirls of color. Nick made a dash for the sanctuary, but she was faster. Like a cat after a bat, she snagged him, her hand gripping him under his throat as she threw him across the kitchen to slam into my mom's old fridge. He started to slip down, and she had him again, lifting him up and holding him there while he tried to make his lungs work. Atop the fridge, the Brimstone cookie jar wobbled and would have fallen off if not for the pixies working as a team to balance it.

"You summoned Rachel to San Francisco?" she said, showing her sharp canines. "She was driving. You could have killed us all!"

Jenks hovered beside his face, his son between his sword and the man's eye. "You were trying to help? Help yourself, maybe!"

G.o.d, I have good friends. Hurting, I staggered around the counter to the big farm table shoved against the interior wall, all but falling into my hard-backed chair and nearly knocking an express mail box onto the floor. It was from my mom, her scrawl unmistakable. I was too tired to guess what she'd sent me this time, and I gingerly felt the backs of my knees. Hurting, I staggered around the counter to the big farm table shoved against the interior wall, all but falling into my hard-backed chair and nearly knocking an express mail box onto the floor. It was from my mom, her scrawl unmistakable. I was too tired to guess what she'd sent me this time, and I gingerly felt the backs of my knees.

Nick's face was going red from a lack of circulation, and the notches in his ears gained in the rat fights stood out like bright flags. "Ivy, let him go before he files a lawsuit," I said casually. That she was slowly choking the life from him was only mildly worrisome. I'd seen her vamp out before, and this was nothing, even if she had missed slaking her hunger this weekend. If she started looking s.e.xy and dropping innuendos, I'd be worried. This was simply anger, and she likely wouldn't tear his throat out for that.

"Why? He can't go to the I.S." Ivy leaned her face next to his, tilting her head and inhaling a line along his neck. A tingling rose through me, and Nick closed his eyes, shuddering. "He's taken himself off the grid," she whispered. "Made himself into a cookie by the side of the road. He can't complain or be jailed for his own crimes. And he wouldn't want that," she crooned. "Would you, little Nicky? Being a blood toy would be better than jail."

Okay, maybe I was wrong. Concerned, I levered myself to a stand. "Ivy-" Concerned, I levered myself to a stand. "Ivy-"

"Let her kill him," Jenks was saying over the sound of his kids. "We've got the graveyard right out back. Humans are like Jell-O. There's always room for one more."

"I didn't have to come here," Nick gasped, and Ivy tightened her grip until he gagged. "The coven didn't give me a choice! They yanked me across state lines and threatened to give me to the FIB. I had to tell them something. They were going to put me away!"

"Better me than you, huh?" I leaned heavily on the table, tired.

"I knew you'd escape," Nick said, spittle at the corners of his mouth. "You've got a foolproof get-out-of-jail-free card. Rachel, you took a demon's name? Why?"

My breath caught at the accusation in his rasping voice, and my anger dulled to shame. I had a demon's name. He'd used it twice to summon me. "Let him go."

Jenks spun in the air to me. "Rache..."

"Let him go!" I exclaimed, and Ivy took her fingers from around Nick's throat. The man fell into a tangle against the fridge, hand over his neck and coughing. Head down, he mumbled to Jax, hovering by his face, his words indistinct. The imprint of Ivy's fingers showed red and clear. Ivy turned away, shaking as she worked to bring herself down. Great. This was exactly what I needed. A jacked-up, hungry vampire and a traitorous ex-boyfriend in the same room.

Jenks wasn't happy, and with an earsplitting whistle, he chased his family out-all but a defiant Jax and a heartbroken Matalina, now perched on the fridge. Her face was riven with tears. Jax s homecoming had turned ugly.

Moving with that vampiric smoothness that gave me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s, Ivy yanked my charm cupboard open and plucked an invoked amulet from my cache. Her eyes were still dangerously black as she strode across the kitchen and extended it. My shoulders eased as the smooth disk of redwood met my fingers. It was one of my own, and the relief from the pain was a blessing.