Kindling the Moon
Page 14

Without time to find the caduceus, I’d have to release the kindled Heka without a filter. The danger of electrical shock wasn’t in the pull as much as the release. As long as I had the caduceus to even things out, the release was relatively painless. Without it, I risked burning myself up from the inside out.
I quickly tapped into the current from Mrs. Marsh’s house. Too fast. The raw surge of electricity mixed erratically with my inner Heka; my body stiffened and began shaking.
Ever been shocked with electrical current? I mean, really shocked, as in a jolt up the arm, can’t let go, can’t breathe, life flashing before your eyes kind of shock? Not something most people would want to willingly do. You have to be a little crazy to practice hard-core magick: It’s not for the weak. The only thing in my favor was the high electric resistance that Heka-rich bodies tend to possess. Current flows differently in me.
But not so differently that I was indestructible.
At this point, all I could do was release the Heka, but it wouldn’t be pretty. I gathered all my willpower, flung myself up and over toward the imp, and muttered the entrapment spell as my hand came down on the canvas and released the energy.
My teeth clattered as the kindled charge left my body, hit the canvas, and exploded into a small fire.
“Shit!”
A muffled howl came from underneath the burning canvas as Tiddlywinks shot out and sped off toward the front yard. Before the entrapment portal could burn away, I said one more spell and banished the imp back into the Æthyr.
“Tiddlywinks!” Mrs. Marsh yelled as she ran after her cat.
I leapt over to the canvas, removed one flip-flop, and used it to beat the fire down. It took several slaps to extinguish. Putrid-smelling smoke trailed up into the air from the blackened hole in the middle of the cloth. Smoked pig’s blood. Disgusting.
As I slid back on my soot-smeared shoe, Mrs. Marsh appeared with Tiddlywinks in tow.
“Guess you’ll have to make another circle, sweetie,” she said as we both looked down at the smoking cloth. “But at least I’ll be able to sleep tonight.”
And at least I wasn’t wasting my magical talent on supernatural pest control. Oh, wait—I was. I found my caduceus in the grass and stalked off toward my house, one charred corner of the barbecued canvas dangling between the tips of my fingers.
6
Exhaustion set in as I locked my side door. On the way upstairs to my bedroom, I gathered up my pet, Mr. Piggy, a rescued hedgehog. Not much bigger than my hand, Mr. Piggy is a cute thing with a petite pink nose and dark, beady eyes. I scratched him on the underside of his little pointy chin and he yawned. At times he can be downright grumpy, but as far as roommates go, he’s a pretty good one.
Sleep. That was what I needed. Once I got to my bedroom, I maneuvered my bra from underneath my shirt, dropped it on the floor, and ditched my jeans before crawling under the bedcovers. The small, sagging mattress felt like heaven. Mr. Piggy huffed and puffed as he climbed the set of pet stairs that I kept at the foot of the bed; he waddled across the covers and stopped when he found an acceptable spot to settle near my feet. Then he turned three slow circles before finally plopping down.
My hair stunk of smoky pig’s blood, but I didn’t have the strength to care. At that moment I just needed rest; I figured I’d wash off the funk when I woke up.
I drowsily made plans for the next day. First I’d contact Father Carrow and ask him to put some pressure on Lon for me. Then maybe I’d call Kar Yee to arrange for a part-time bartender to take a couple of my shifts. My thoughts roamed and faded. Just when I was at the cusp of succumbing to the heavy pull of sleep, a loud knock sounded from downstairs.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” No way on God’s green earth was I getting out of bed to run after another damned imp for that woman. All my charity and goodwill were gone. If I didn’t answer the door, maybe she’d go away. I waited and heard nothing, then settled back into my pillow while Mr. Piggy grumbled his own protests.
Not for long.
Another knock came, this one louder and more insistent. Furious, I threw back the covers and stomped downstairs. I really didn’t think I could be nice this time. I made my way down the side hall, turned the lock, and flung the door open with nothing short of malice.
“Mrs. Marsh—” I hissed.
It was not Mrs. Marsh standing in my doorway. It was Lon Butler.
“Expecting someone else?” he asked with an amused look on his face.
“What the hell are you doing here? How did you—”
“I’ve just been over at Father Carrow’s house down the block and …” He hesitated as his eyes skimmed over me. I followed his gaze and peered down at myself. Nothing but my T-shirt and panties. A blowtorch warmth spread up my neck, over my cheeks. “Father Carrow,” he repeated, still not looking at my face, “pointed out which house was yours, so I drove over.”
I stealthily attempted to tug down the hem of my T-shirt, but it barely covered my waist.
“Looks like you’ve stuck your finger in a light socket,” he observed, tearing his eyes away from my hips to stare at my hair. Damn Mrs. Marsh and that imp. And damn myself for kindling raw electricity without a caduceus.
“Well?” I prompted.
“You gonna invite me in, or you wanna talk out here?”
I moved from the doorway and gestured for him to come inside. Ten o’clock on a Friday night, and I was letting strange men into my house while I was half dressed. I reminded myself that he had, at one time, been studying to become a priest. That meant he took a vow of chastity, didn’t it? I idly wondered if he stuck to it after he got kicked out, then decided that he didn’t look all that chaste to me.