The Hollows Series Books 1-4. Kim Harrison

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СКАЧАТЬ they lived happy in the ever-after.” Well … that’s the way it’s supposed to go. Grimm lost the “in the” part somewhere. That some witches use ley lines probably accounted for the longstanding misinterpretation that witches aligned themselves with demons. I shudder to think how many lives that mistake had ended.

      I was strictly an earth witch, dealing solely with amulets, potions, and charms. Gestures and incantations were in the realm of ley line magic. Witches specializing in this branch of craft tapped directly into ley lines for their strength. It was a harsher magic, and I thought less structured and beautiful, since it lacked much of the discipline earth enchantment had. The only benefit I could see in ley line magic was that it could be invoked instantly with the right word. The drawback was that one had to carry around a slice of ever-after in their chi. I didn’t care that there were ways to isolate it from your chakras. I was convinced that the demonic taint from the ever-after left some sort of accumulated smut on your soul. I’d seen too many friends lose their ability to clearly see what side of the fence their magic was on.

      Ley line magic was where the greatest potential for black magic lay. If a charm was hard to trace back to its maker, finding out who cursed your car with ley line magic was nigh impossible. That’s not to say all ley line witches were bad—their skills were in high demand in the entertainment, weather control, and security industries—but with such a close association with the ever-after and the greater power at one’s disposal, it was easy to lose one’s morals.

      My lack of advancement with the I.S. might be placed at the feet of my refusal to use ley line magic to apprehend the big bad uglies. But what was the difference if I tagged them with a charm instead of an incantation? I had gotten very good fighting ley line magic with earth, though one wouldn’t be able to tell that looking at my tag/run ratio.

      The memory of that pyramid of splat balls outside my back door twinged through me, and I poured the milk over the mouse hair and into the pot. The mixture was boiling, and I raised the bowl even higher on its tripod, stirring it with a wooden spoon. Using wood while spelling wasn’t a good idea, but all my ceramic spoons were still cursed, and to use metal other than copper would be inviting disaster. Wood spoons tended to act like amulets, absorbing spell and leading to embarrassing mistakes, but if I soaked it in my vat of saltwater when done, I’d be fine.

      Hands on my hips, I read over the spell again and set the timer. The simmering mix was starting to smell musky. I hoped that was all right.

      “So,” Ivy said as she clicked and clacked at her keyboard. “You’re going to sneak into the records vault as a mouse. You won’t be able to open the file cabinet.”

      “Jenks says he has a copy of everything already. We just have to go look at it.”

      Ivy’s chair creaked as she leaned back and crossed her legs, her doubt that we two midgets would be able to handle a keyboard obvious in how she had her head cocked. “Why don’t you just change back to a witch once you’re there?”

      I shook my head as I double-checked the recipe. “Transformations invoked by a potion last until you get a solid soaking in saltwater. If I wanted, I could transform using an amulet, break into the vault, take it off, find what I need as a human, and then put the amulet back on to get out. But I’m not going to.”

      “Why not?”

      She was just full of questions, and I looked up from adding the fuzz of a pussytoes plant. “Haven’t you ever used a transformation spell?” I questioned. “I thought vamps used them all the time to turn into bats and stuff.”

      Ivy dropped her eyes. “Some do,” she said softly.

      Obviously Ivy had never transformed. I wondered why. She certainly had the money for it. “It’s not a good idea to use an amulet for transforming,” I said. “I’d have to tie the amulet to me or wear it around my neck, and all my amulets are bigger than a mouse. Kind of awkward. And what if I was in a wall and dropped it? Witches have died from despelling back to normal and solidifying with extra parts—like a wall or cage.” I shuddered, giving the brew a quick clockwise stir. “Besides,” I added softly, “I won’t have any clothes on when I turn back.”

      “Ha!” Ivy barked, and I jerked. “Now we hear the real reason. Rachel, you’re shy!”

      What could I say to that? Mildly embarrassed, I closed my spell book and shelved it under the island with the rest of my new library. The timer dinged, and I blew out the flame. There wasn’t much liquid left. It wouldn’t take long to reach room temperature.

      Wiping my hands off on my jeans, I reached across the clutter for a finger stick. Many a witch before the Turn had feigned a mild case of diabetes in order to get these little gems for free. I hated them, but it was better than using a knife to open a vein, as they had in less enlightened times. Poised to jab myself, I suddenly hesitated. Ivy couldn’t cross the circle, but last night was still very real in my thoughts. I’d sleep in a salt circle if I could, but the continuous connection to the ever-after would make me insane if I didn’t have a familiar to absorb the mental toxins the lines put out. “I—uh—need three drops of my blood to quicken it,” I said.

      “Really?” Her look entirely lacked that intent expression that generally proceeded a vamp’s hunting aura. Still, I didn’t trust her.

      I nodded. “Maybe you should leave.”

      Ivy laughed. “Three drops drawn from a finger stick isn’t going to do anything.”

      Still I hesitated. My stomach clenched. How could I be sure she knew her limits? Her eyes narrowed and red spots appeared on her pale cheeks. If I insisted she leave, she would take offense, I could tell. And I wasn’t about to show I was afraid of her. I was absolutely safe within my circle. It could stop a demon; stopping a vamp was nothing.

      I took a breath and stuck my finger. There was a flicker of black in her eyes and a chill through me, then nothing. My shoulders eased. Emboldened, I massaged three drops into the brew. The brown, milky liquid looked the same, but my nose could tell the difference. I closed my eyes, bringing the smell of grass and grain deep into my lungs. I would need three more drops of my blood to prime each dose before use.

      “It smells different.”

      “What?” I jumped, cursing my reaction. I had forgotten she was there.

      “Your blood smells different,” Ivy said. “It smells woody. Spicy. Like dirt, but dirt that’s alive. Human blood doesn’t smell like that, or vampire.”

      “Um,” I muttered, quite sure I didn’t like that she could smell three drops of my blood from halfway across the room through a barrier of ever-after. But it was reassuring to know she had never bled a witch.

      “Would my blood work?” she asked intently.

      I shook my head as I gave the brew a nervous stir. “No. It has to be from a witch or warlock. It’s not the blood but the enzymes that are in it. They act as a catalyst.”

      She nodded, clicking her computer into sleep mode and sitting back to watch me.

      I rubbed the tip of my finger to smear the slick of blood to nothing. Like most, this recipe made seven spells. The ones I didn’t use tonight, I’d store as potions. If I cared to put them in amulets, they would last a year. But I wouldn’t transform with an amulet for anything.

      Ivy’s eyes were heavy on me as I carefully divided the brew into the thumb-sized vials and capped them tightly. Done. All that was left was СКАЧАТЬ