Ceri jerked, and she looked down the hallway. Faint on the air I heard the front door open, and the blanket moved in the shifting air currents.
"Rachel?" came Ivy's voice. "Where's Jenks? And why is there a Home Depot truck unloading sheet plywood in our drive?"
I sank down onto a chair before I fell over. My elbows went on my knees, and my head dropped into my hands. The Brimstone and bane still warred within me, making me shaky and weak. Damn. What was I going to tell Ivy?
Twenty
The coffee in my oversized mug was cold, but I wasn't going to go into the kitchen for more. Ivy was banging around there, baking more of her vile cookies despite us having already gone over that I wasn't going to eat them and was madder than a troll with a hangover that she'd been slipping me Brimstone.
The clatter of my pain amulet against the complexion charm hiding my bruised eye intruded as I set my mug aside and reached for the desk lamp. It had gotten dusky while Ceri tried to teach me how to store line energy. Cheery yellow light spilled over the plants strewn on my desk, the glow just reaching Ceri sitting on a cushion she had brought over from Keasley's. We could have done this in the more comfortable living room, but Ceri had insisted on hallowed ground despite the sun being up. And it was quiet in the sanctuary. Depressingly so.
Ceri sat cross-legged on the floor to make a small figure in jeans and a casual shirt under the shadow of the cross. A pot of tea sat beside her, steaming though my own mug was long cold. I had a feeling she was using magic to keep it warm, though I had yet to catch her at it. A delicate cup was cradled reverently in her thin hands—she had brought that from Keasley's, too—and Ivy's crucifix glimmered about her neck. The woman's hands were never far from it. Her fair hair had been plaited by Jenks's eldest daughter that morning, and she looked at peace with herself. I loved seeing her like this, knowing what she had endured.
There was a thump from the kitchen followed by the clatter of the oven door shutting. A frown crossed me, and I turned to Ceri as she prompted, "Are you ready to try again?"
Setting my sock-footed feet firmly on the floor, I nodded. Quick from practice, I reached out with my awareness and touched the line out back. My chi filled, taking no more or less than it ever did. The energy flowed through me much like a river flows through a pond. I had been able to do this since I was twelve and accidentally threw Trent into a tree at his father's Make-A-Wish camp. What I had to do was pull some of that energy out of the pond and lift it to a cistern in my mind, so to speak. A person's chi, whether human, Inderlander, or demon, could hold only so much. Familiars acted as extra chi that a magic user could draw on as his or her own.
Ceri waited until I gestured I was ready before she tapped the same line and fostered more into me. It was a trickle instead of Algaliarept's deluge, but even so, my skin burned when my chi overflowed and the force rippled through me, seeking somewhere to puddle. Going back to the pond and river analogy, the banks had overflowed and the valley was flooding.
My thoughts were the only place it could settle, and by the time it found them, I had made the tiny three-dimensional circle in my imagination that Ceri had spent most of the afternoon teaching me how to craft. Shoulders easing, I felt the trickle find the small enclosure. Immediately the warm sensation on my skin vanished as the energy my chi couldn't hold was drawn into it like mercury droplets. The bubble expanded, glowing with a red smear that took on the color of my and Al's aura. Yuck.
"Say your trigger word," Ceri prompted, and I winced. It was too late. My eyes met hers, and her thin lips twitched. "You forgot," she accused, and I shrugged. Immediately she stopped forcing energy into me, and the excess ran out in a brief spark of heat back to the line. "Say it this time," she said tightly. Ceri was nice, but she wasn't a particularly patient teacher.
Again she made ley line energy overflow my chi. My skin warmed, the bruise from where Algaliarept slapped me throbbing. The amperage, if you will, was a touch more than usual, and I thought that it was Ceri's not-so-subtle encouragement to get it right this time.
"Tulpa," I whispered, hearing it in my mind as well as my ear. The word choice wasn't important. It was building the association between the word and the actions that were. Latin was generally used, as it was unlikely that I would say it accidentally, triggering the spell by mistake. The process was identical to when I had learned to make an instant circle. The word tulpa wasn't Latin—it hardly qualified as English—but how often was it used in conversation?
Faster this time, the energy from the line found my enclosure and filled it. I pulled my gaze to Ceri and nodded for more. Green eyes serious in the dim light from the heat lamp on my desk, she returned it. My breath seeped out and my focus blurred when Ceri upped the level and a flash of warmth tingled over my skin. "Tulpa," I whispered, pulse quickening.
The new force found the first. My spherical protection circle within my unconsciousness expanded to take it in. Again my focus cleared, and I nodded to Ceri. She blinked when I gestured for more, but I wasn't going to let Al knock me out with an overload of force. "I'm fine," I said, then stiffened when the bruised skin around my eye throbbed, burning with the sensation of a sunburn even through the pain amulet. "Tulpa," I said, slumping as the heat vanished. See, I told my frazzled brain. It's an illusion. I'm not really on fire.
"That's enough," Ceri said uncomfortably, and I pulled my chin up from my chest. The fire was gone from my veins, but I was exhausted and my fingers were trembling.
"I don't want to sleep tonight until I can hold what he pushed into me," I replied.
"But, Rachel…" she protested, and I raised a hand slowly in denial.
"He's going to come back," I said. "I can't fight him if I'm convulsing in pain."
Face pale, she bobbed her head, and I jerked as she forced more into me. "Oh God," I whispered, then said my trigger word before Ceri could stop. This time I felt the energy flow like acid through me, following new channels, pulled by my word rather than finding its way to my bubble by accident. My head jerked up. Eyes wide, I stared at Ceri as the pain vanished.
"You did it," she said, looking almost frightened as she sat cross-legged before me.
Swallowing, I pulled my legs under me so she wouldn't see my knees tremble. "Yeah."
Unblinking, she held her cup in her lap. "Let it go. You need to recenter yourself."
I found my arms were wrapped around myself. Forcing them down, I exhaled. Letting go of the energy spindled in my head sounded easier than it was. I had enough force in me to throw Ivy into the next county. If it didn't flow back to my chi and then the line using the gently seared channels that Ceri had been burning through my nervous system, it was really going to hurt.
Steeling myself, I set my will around the bubble and squeezed. Breath held, I waited for the pain, but the ley line energy smoothly returned to my chi and then the line, leaving me shaking from spent adrenaline. Enormously relieved, I brushed my hair out of my eyes and put my gaze on Ceri. I felt awfuclass="underline" tired, exhausted, sweaty, and shaking—but satisfied.
"You're improving," she said, and a thin smile crossed me.
"Thanks." Taking my mug, I took a sip of cold coffee. She was probably going to ask me to pull it off the line by myself next; I wasn't yet ready to try. "Ceri," I said as my fingers trembled. "This isn't that hard compared to the benefits. Why don't more people know this?"
She smiled, her dusky shape in the shadow of the lamp going sage looking. "They do in the ever-after. It's the first thing—no, the second thing—that a new familiar is taught."