Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
My mind whirred through the pages of my internal grimoire as I tried to choose a tactic to deal with a stubborn spirit curse.
“No things shall cause me fear. With these words, they flee from here!” I chanted with a throat dry as paper wasp nests.
The purple cloud was getting bigger.
Fumbling with the cabinet lock, I grabbed an armful of herbs and oils from my stash.
A vial slipped out of my fingers and bounced on the floor, knocking out the cork.
Running water should protect me. I slid across the green ooze of parsley oil as I turned the shower on.
“No things shall cause me fear. With these words, they fly from here!”
The shock of cold water turned my chant into a scream. Crouching down in the corner, I drizzled fennel, lavender, and oregano oils over me, counting on the rising steam to diffuse the spell. My hands quivered as I wove the incantation.
“Blessed spirits of my ancestors, fill the space with light and surround me with your endless night. Spirits take pain and vanish. I am the night, and I declare you banished.”
I curled up, bringing my knees to my chest as the cloud outside the glass door coalesced into a form. I screamed the words, but even if someone could hear me, no one could help me.
This room was soundproofed.
No one would see the towering, man-sized spirit forming out of purple smoke; they would only see my lifeless body after the spirit sucked my essence out…
Holy crocuses.
This bracelet was coming off—now.
With slippery fingers, I unsnapped one of the pouches on my mushroom-leather belt that held banishment essentials. At least they were still dry.
“I suggest you don’t do that,” said a husky voice with an accent. My breath froze in my chest. Was it reading my mind? I sang to block my conscious thoughts while assembling curse-removal herbs.
“Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full. Oranges and lemons say the bells of St. Clement’s. Give me five farthings…”
I jammed a rowan stick between the gold bracelet and my skin, changing from nursery rhymes to spell words—though the words were never as important as the intention.
“Magic mend the path of this broken soul. With the power of wood and plant, that which is not of this world, I release you.”
Dabbing sage oil at my throat and the wrist points around the stick for extra protection, I concentrated on the image of the bracelet breaking. The heat of the water lifted the essence of the herb oils from my skin, swirling it into a green steamy haze.
“I am clean. I am whole. I am sound. I am light. I am one. I am beyond touch. I am clean. I am whole. I am sound. I am light. I am one. I am beyond touch.”
When I got to the end of the cycle, the purple smoke had pretty well dissipated.
Had it worked? I tugged at the bracelet. But it didn’t break.
Flipping Foxgloves.
There was only one way to go.
I cracked open the shower door, releasing the herbal steam.
Terror clawed its way from my stomach to my throat.
A naked man was leaning on the counter, wrapping one of my lavender towels around his waist. Steam beaded on his rippling bronze torso. Around my age and pretty much a thirst trap. Terrifyingly handsome. Was this thing a product of my imagination? His smug smile turned my blood into bubbling lava.
I swiped dripping gray braids out of my face and threw the remaining sage oil into the vicinity of the man’s head. “I banish thee!”
The steam thinned. A bracelet like the one on my wrist slid down the interloper’s forearm as he wiped the rivulets of oil from an angular jaw.
He sniffed his fingers. “Bardaqūsh? Curious theurgy, but your concoctions will not work on me.” His voice was amber-smooth, but his archaic terms didn’t faze me.
Theurgy was the art of persuading a supernatural power from doing something, which is exactly what I was attempting.
I called it banishment, but an apple was an apple.
He knew what I was doing, and that was concerning in itself.
I was seeing a whole new flowery side to potentially taking a life—if he had one to take. Pulling energy into my fists, I focused it internally, twining it into silvery balls. Then with everything I had, I whipped them at him.
My fluffy orbs smacked the mirror and ricocheted back at me as he flashed a maddening grin. I ducked, and the balls poofed into the shower glass.
Blood rushed in my ears as I recalled the steps of banishment. If he was a spirit, or an interloper on this plane, the energy balls should have pulled apart his form and dissipated it.
But they went right through him.
This was not good.
I swiped water out of my eyes. “What are you? And how do I make you go away?”
He ran a hand down his chest, like he, too, was amazed by how washboard his abs were. “Now that’s rather complicated, and I’m a little mystified myself. The more compelling question is who or what you are.” His full dark-brown eyebrows raised. He plucked a second towel from the bar and held it out.
He could hold towels.
He had to be really here.
I ripped it out of his hand and backed up against the door, but he didn’t try to stop me. His presence was bizarrely physical, and from my experience, that took a lot of power unless my energy was feeding an illusion, and he really wasn’t there.
I rubbed the towel over my hair, and the bracelet slid down my arm.
“I assume you came from the chain, Mr. Genie or Spirit, or whatever the hellebore you are. Why don’t you go back in the chain, and we can continue this discussion under water?
” Maybe if I got his bracelet off, mine would come off too.
“You’re misguided. What you intended wouldn’t have worked with the lovely Brenda either. When the Essifer popped in, he helped you out. The only way to release that chain now is to end your life.”
“How about we end yours instead?” I grabbed his arm near the bracelet.
A wave of amber light buffeted around me, and the air tasted sweet, like honeyed apricots and exotic spices mixed with lush greenery and some primal sandy freshness.
Immersed in his energy, I floated in the golden cloud, my mind wandering down the trail of sensations.
“That would be ill-advised.” His tanned fingers lifted my hand away, as if I were a child touching forbidden fruit. When he let go, I staggered back against the door.
His eyes turned from dark brown to a watery blue green, like crystal water.
“What are you?” I whispered, backing up against the shower door. The pit in my stomach was five times as big as the space between me and whatever he was.
He paused, considering me. His pressed lips were buttery smooth and rosy.
“You really are rare and unusual, wrapped up in your amethyst sparkles. Finally, you might be of use to me.” He straightened up, bowed from the waist, then adjusted the towel.
“They call me Ranth. I am of the Ahknim.” Midnight dark hair trailed up to his belly button.
His very solid chest rounded into wide shoulders with muscled arms that flexed as he crossed them.
He smiled at me. Wolfish with all teeth.
Sepia tattoos in the shape of a serpent wrapped a bicep, and a jagged silvery scar snaked from his collarbone to his ear.
Both demons and spirits can adopt human shapes, but they never get them quite right. Sort of like AI glitches with an extra finger or twelve eyes, depending on how far they went wrong, but this man was very right.
I bristled at the “use” label. “That didn’t answer my question. And where are your clothes?”
“The Ahknim don’t require them, but I’ve observed your civilization adheres to a modicum of propriety.” He adjusted the towel.
The flippancy rankled me. I wasn’t trusting anything he said, but there was often truth in lies. “Quit with the condescending walking dictionary-speak and stop tossing names without defining them. What is an S-f-fer, and that other Ank-him thing?”
“The Ahknim?”
“Yes, that. Explain all of it, or—”
“Or?” He leaned against the counter again and wiped sweat dripping down his cheek with a languid trail of a finger.
His six-foot-two-ish frame towered over my five foot six. One of his bare feet added up to two of mine. Was his human form from my imagination? The silver scar down the side of his throat spoke otherwise. But still, he wasn’t threatening me, even if I was locked in my bathroom with him.
Flipping foxgloves, Ori was on her way here.
“Move over there.” I pointed at the sink, and he glanced at it before repositioning. It was good he was taking orders. I reached around him and ravaged the herb cabinet for valerian and tansy. He leaned into me, his heat distractingly human.
“Hey, keep your distance.” I backed up with bottles clasped to my chest.
“I thought you wanted to know about Essifers? They’re a particular type of lesser demon used by greater demons, the Derellers, to hunt magic users and handle pesky jobs.” Gooseflesh prickled up my arms.
“You’re describing yourself as pesky, then?” I ran through what herbs might help. If the portal wasn’t gone, I wasn’t sure what I’d do. Ori was probably safe in the house, but I couldn’t be certain until I felt for the house’s energy.
Ranth leaned back on the sink. “Ahknim are often described as Learned Ones. We are what you might call wizards, but with a truer power which most humans don’t share. Something akin to yours. You must be exceptional, or you would not be able to see me.”
The bottle of valerian dropped. He snatched it out of the air before it hit the floor, like time had slowed.
He offered it to me.
I swiped the bottle out of his hand. “Nice reflexes. What the hellebore do you mean by being able to see you?”
“Do you always talk in these plant names? It’s rather charming.” His smile made a dimple on his left cheek.
“Don’t even,” I said, gripping the valerian. “You stay in here while I go check on something.”
If the portal hadn’t dissipated, I could have tried energy balls, but now I was weakened from attacking the wizard, or spirit, or whatever he was.
“The portal?”
“Yes, the foxgloves portal.” I gave him the full palm-up signal to stay put and cracked the door open.