Page 27 of Demon's Bluff

Satisfied, I took up the white sage and began plucking leaves from all but three of the dried stems, then tightly folding the picked leaves into a packet around each and binding them with a denuded stem of rosemary. “Gordian knot?” I guessed, wanting to be sure.

“If you can manage it,” Al said superciliously, a single finger slowly turning a page.

Obviously I could, and the very fact that he wasn’t watching meant I was doing it right, but he put the magazine down and stood when I levered myself up to kneel on the table, chalk in hand. Eyeing the open spacebefore me, I set the three smudge sticks down at the top to give myself room to draw three pentagrams total.

Al shook his head, his gaze at the center of the space. “You will be nesting the pentagrams,” he said, and I made a small noise. This was something new. “Hence needing the large table,” he added. “Put the first in the middle of your space.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Grateful for the new technique, I set the three unlit smudge sticks in the center. Nodding once sharply, Al set the stone with the hole atop them.

“Keeping your work small, sketch a pentagram of purity around the stone,” he directed, and I jumped when he dropped the bag of salt beside me. “Use salt for clarity.”

I should have known that, and I tucked the magnetic chalk into a pocket before stretching for my black silk cloth and working it quickly into a cone. Using it like a pastry bag, I carefully traced a small pentagram around the stone. “Runes?” I asked, relieved when I’d finished. I wasn’t good at free-drawing pentagrams, but I was getting better.

“Yes, of purity at the points,” Al said, nodding in satisfaction when I started at the bottom right leg and moved clockwise. “Very good. The pentagram surrounding it will be of connection,” he continued as I worked. “The glyphs commonly used in calling circles are sufficient. Use your blood without the paintbrush. It will not work if the lines of the first pentagram touch the lines of the second.”

Finished, I reached for my silver knife.

“And if you use that damned silver knife, I will be most disappointed,” he added, throwing something at me.

It was a knife as well. I caught it by instinct and took a moment to study it. Unlike mine, it was copper, the soft metal almost useless. I didn’t have one of these. “Jupiter finger?” I guessed. The point was dull, but it would work if I used enough pressure.

“Of course,” he drawled.

It took some doing to open the skin enough to get a good flow. Finger moving, I sketched a blood pentagram around the first. Most practitionersequated them with illicit magic, but if it was my blood, what was the hurt? It would make a very secure connection to me, and that was more important than what everyone thought.

The glyphs I could sketch in my sleep, and I inched off the table and wiped my finger clean using the black silk cloth. The final pentagram would be enormous, and I could sketch it with my feet on the floor. “Good?” I said, asking for the next step, not his approval.

“As before, it is adequate.” But the smile quirking his lips said different. “You have left yourself barely enough room to sketch the third and final pentagram of permanence around it using the magnetic chalk.”

It felt almost done, and I hadn’t tapped a line yet other than to warm up the wine. The smudge sticks, though, would need to be lit, and I set a faint ribbon of my awareness into the lines, relishing the warm tingle of power as I drew the final pentagram.

“Ahh, crap,” I whispered when I noticed that I’d stained the chalk with my blood, and Al made a noncommittal huff. The pentagram was okay, but the chalk itself was ruined. Fortunately there was about a quarter inch unsullied with which to finish the spell.

“Wait,” Al said when I reached to scribe the glyphs of permanence.

“I have another chalk in the kitchen,” I said, and he shook his head.

“The chalk is fine. You will scribe the runes mid-spell.” Al hesitated. “Can you tell me why?”

I thought about it for a moment, frowning. “Because if I do it now, the permanence will adhere to the table, not the spell? Seeing as it’s nested?” I guessed, and the demon grunted in satisfaction, his thick fingers reaching to tug at lace that wasn’t there.

“Correct!” he said. “You will now begin the spell. Do not work ahead of what I tell you to do. You have set it up properly, and as a reward, I will ensure that you finish it such that you have a functioning transposition charm.”

I couldn’t help my grin. “Thank you.” And whereas showing any appreciation had once been fraught with a sullen annoyance, it now was laced with true gratitude. It felt like a win even if this last part was goingto be fed to me as if I was a child. If I hadn’t shown the level of proficiency he expected me to have, he would have let me screw it up. He had before. Once. And then I learned to think.

Al came closer, the scent of redwood and burnt amber a pleasant mix. “Light the three smudge sticks with your thoughts, but do not contain the smoke in a circle. Leave it free to disperse as it will—because…” he prompted.

I had no idea. “To allow for the impurities to escape?” I guessed.

His held breath slipped from him. “Possibly. Try it and see.”

Al had already assured me that I would end up with a functioning charm, so I pulled deeper on the ley line, letting the tingling potential fill me until I pushed a wad of the energy into my hand and flicked it at the smudge sticks.“Flagro,”I said softly to harness the black-and-red-smeared ball of energy arching through the air, giving it agency and focus. Giving it magic.

The spoken spell hit the smudge sticks, and they burst into a bright flame, which quickly dulled into a billowing black smoke.

“Ah, the smoke detector…” I said, surprised at how fast it was burning.

But then I realized that the smoke and ash were settling only within the area defined by the second pentagram, in effect rubbing out the lines of the first.

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