Demon Song

14

Emma and Dawna laughed and the three of us simultaneously raised our margarita glasses. I felt a cool swirl brush around us in a ghostly hug. Dawna clinked her glass, first with mine and then with Emma’s on her other side. “To the girls! No boys allowed. Although…” She paused and lowered her tortoiseshell sunglasses to the tip of her nose as one of the staff walked through carrying another tray of lime-topped refreshments. “Pretty boys are always allowed.”

I leaned back with a sigh and stared up at the stained glass and carved wood above the heat lamp for a moment before raising myself on one elbow to look at my three friends lounging next to the shining turquoise pool.

Yeah, Vicki was here, and while we couldn’t see her directly, there was a distinct body mark denting the thick white towel on the otherwise empty-seeming chaise. Emma and Dawna were bronzing under tanning lamps, but I was just as “allergic” to artificial sunlight as I was to the real thing. But a heat lamp is just heat without UV rays and such, and even if I wasn’t particularly cold, I wanted to share in the luxury of the moment. The heat lamp, fourth lounge, and framed mirror for communication with our dead friend had thrown the staff into a little bit of a tizzy, but they’d recovered quickly.

I was done worrying, at least for a weekend. I’d promised Pili I’d do my best to relax while she helped Gran do the same. Then maybe Gran and I could go back to the warm, loving relationship we’d shared for so many years. I looked forward to getting to know Pili better, too. I not only trusted her; I liked her. Finding a new relative who was both wise and wonderful was one of the better side effects of the last few weeks.

The cabana boy saw Dawna flicking her eyes up and down the length of his body and responded in kind. His sly, confident smile was enough to make me roll my eyes and shake my head. If Dawna didn’t get lucky this weekend it would be a miracle. Emma wasn’t above gawking, too, but the last thing I needed was another man in my life. After all, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with the ones I already had.

After our drinks had been replaced—I’d sent the cabana boy back to get me an energy shake instead of another alcoholic margarita—I relaxed into the wave of warm air. “So what do you think about the mystery heir thing? Do you agree with me?”

Vicki had been noncommittal about my thought that she’d chosen Mick Murphy because his daughters were younger versions of me and Ivy—and because if Mom had had money to buy off the kidnappers Ivy might still be alive.

“I guess it’s possible,” Dawna said after a few seconds. “But it’s not the sort of thing she normally saw in her visions, right, Vick? If she’d seen something, it would have been the actual kidnapping. Why see a happy family with no trauma?”

Dunno appeared on the mirror that was propped on an easel next to Vicki’s lounge so she didn’t have to get up to write. It was interesting to me that after she’d first died she could only write a word or two. Now she’d often do five or six with ease. Could a ghost get stronger, or had she just learned the trick to it?

“That makes sense, really,” Emma said from the far end. “If she remembered why, she wouldn’t have asked you to investigate.”

“True. But I really think we need to follow the money. That’s a lot of freaking cash. Why not a hundred thousand, or even a million? Why give them a quarter of the estate?”

Yes. About the money showed on the mirror. It was the first acknowledgment that I was on to something. Needs to buy …

“Needs to buy … what?” She’d disappeared. The room got warmer and the heat lamp was abruptly almost too hot. I sat up and looked around, searching for the sparkling cloud. But she was gone. “What’s up? Where’d she go?”

Dawna shrugged and sat up fully, setting her feet on the floor. “Maybe she had an idea. She’ll be back. Anyway, we need to get to the salon. We have a haircut and style in fifteen minutes. Then facials and makeup. Ladies, we are going to rock that debut tonight!”

So true. Who knew the spa would have such an amazing boutique? Absolutely everything fit and looked good on me. That was saying something. “Can you believe the dresses we found? There’d better be cameras there, because I want a picture of us for my album.”

Emma nodded. “Before you were attacked, I wouldn’t have picked silver and blue for you; they would have really washed you out. But you looked amazing in the dressing room. I can’t wait to see you … and me and, well, Dawna, too. This is just what I needed.”

I tried to smile, wanted to because she looked so happy. She used to be that way all the time. Well, not cheerful and bouncy, but content in her own skin. We both were. Before. Now she looked … haunted. And it was my fault. Worse, I didn’t know how to fix it. “I really want you to get what you need, Em. You shouldn’t have to be fighting this.” It was a non sequitur from dresses to a demon attack. I knew that I should keep the tone light, but I couldn’t seem to stop the seriousness and pain that rolled out with the tears that filled my eyes. “It’s my fault that you’re going through this and I hate it. I’d fix it if I could. Eirene was trying to hurt me. You got caught in the middle. That’s not fair.…” I felt my lip trembling.

Her brow furrowed and she stood in a rush, knocking over the small table that held her drink. It crashed to the floor, but neither of us cared. “Oh, Celie! No! It’s not your fault at all.” She raced the few feet between us and enveloped me in a hug. There was a fierceness to her grip that took me by surprise. “I took the job with Eirene. I could have said no. Dad told me to say no—to not leave school.” She pulled back to grab me by the shoulders and stare into my eyes. “This is not yours. And it’s going to be okay. You’ll see. They’re really helping me at Birchwoods.”

Fortunately, Dr. Gwen had agreed with that sentiment. It had taken more than a few minutes to convince her to release Emma for this mini-break, but ultimately Dr. Gwen decided that Em would be best served by doing some “normal” things. Normally, in the first month at Birchwoods it’s lockdown city. Everybody is supposed to wear gray sweats to “level” everyone’s class and status bars. After all, the alcoholic father of a middle-class family who is court-ordered to rehab isn’t the same in the eyes of society as a top-money model with “alcohol dependency.” But at Birchwoods they’re treated the same … and they have to treat each other the same.

Birchwoods is exclusive and pricey and it gets results because of its strict standards and effective staff. It wasn’t just a rehab center, and in fact Emma wasn’t there because of any sort of addiction. She needed to get her head on straight and was undergoing frequent religious rites to remove her attachment to the demon who’d tried to claim her soul.

Dawna joined the group hug and we cried for long minutes until we finally laughed. Dawna wiped a long streak of mascara from her tawny cheek. “They’re really going to have to earn their money to make us look good now.”

I let out a choking laugh that was still a little bit soppy. “I’m all about value for my dollar. C’mon. Let’s go let them make us look like movie stars.”

* * *

“No, there’s no flash photography allowed until the end of the event. Sorry.” The heavyset guard at the gate before the long, winding path really did look apologetic. The burgundy red carpet and the fairy lights that followed the curves of the road were really impressive touches that made me eager to get inside. “The owners want this to be about the wine, not about who’s attending.”

I suppose it made sense, but it was sad. We looked good. Dawna’s bronze and green sparkles had obviously stolen the guard’s heart and Emma’s blonde cheerleader beauty was only enhanced by the black and gold dress that hugged her every curve. And yeah, I really did look good in silver and blue, and the dress had a built-in bra that gave me more cleavage than nature had. The stylist had even put silvery white extensions in my hair that I thought would look cheap but were amazing.

Dawna batted those big brown eyes at the guard who couldn’t keep his eyes off her long expanse of bare legs. She shifted to expose even more skin to hand him her ticket. “Could you take a picture of us … out here? That wouldn’t break any rules, would it? We just want to remember looking this good.”

It hadn’t occurred to me to bring a camera, but it had to Dawna. Her glove-clad fingers pulled a little digital out of a purse that wasn’t much bigger than the camera. “Please?”

There was no one waiting, so nobody would know. The press were a quarter of a mile down the road, waiting for the event to end. I don’t know what kind of magic they’d done to keep the press at bay, but they literally couldn’t come closer. We even saw one reporter try to pole-vault over the barrier. It had been entertaining in that ouch, that must have hurt sort of way.

We’d arrived a little late because Emma desperately needed highlights. The guard stared at Dawna and the camera with a frown. She tipped her head just a bit to show off her gorgeous neck. We all smiled winningly and he finally let out a sigh and held out a pudgy hand. She squealed and bounced and we got together in front of the winery’s sign: The Twins. He snapped two pictures and let us see them on the screen before he pulled the camera away and tucked it in a jacket pocket. “You can pick it up on the way out. I’ll be here until everybody is gone. But I’ll lose my job if I let a camera inside, and I know you don’t want that.”

Dawna wasn’t the only one who could work facial expressions. He gave such a sad puppy face pout that we had no choice but to let out little maternal noises and give him a peck on the cheek. Then he picked up his radio and said, “Three more to pick up and then we’re ready to lock the gates, Dave. All invitations accounted for.”

Wow, we really were late. Oops. It was only a moment before we heard the hum of an electric motor. A golf cart modified to look like a horse-drawn carriage—minus the horse—pulled up to the gate. The guard opened the massive silver gates and bowed us inside. I walked toward the cart and felt the moment the magic barrier pressed against me. It was an oddly familiar sensation, but I couldn’t place why. I was through in moments, but it left the hair on my arms standing on end for nearly the whole trip up the path.

“Are you cold?” Emma leaned over as we rolled down the path. “You keep rubbing your arms.”

“I just feel a little weird. Did the barrier make your skin tingle?”

They looked at each other and then shrugged with heads shaking. “No.” Dawna looked at her arm. “Not really. It felt like a barrier. Maybe you’re having a vamp reaction. I’ll bet they stepped up the oomph on security for tonight.”

That was probably it. Fortunately, I’d stashed a couple of shakes in my purse. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that wine was going to taste horrible with chocolate, so vanilla was all I’d brought. Not my favorite but definitely more Chablis friendly. I drank it quickly, then tossed the empty can into a tiny, almost-hidden trash can beside the golf cart’s drop-off point.

We’d missed the early mixer, which was probably a good thing. I hadn’t realized how many of my clients would be here. From movie stars to singers and a few politicians, it was old home week, and many eyes lit up with surprise as I walked in. No bodyguards were allowed at the premiere, and that meant I was, gasp, a guest.

Dawna likewise recognized a few people—mostly from dating them. She is so good at crashing high-end events that half of the beautiful people in L.A. probably think she’s some reclusive heiress, rather than a receptionist who’s still studying for a degree. Of course, now she really was an heiress, so it all worked out. Emma didn’t see a single familiar face, judging by her brief look of disappointment.

I took it upon myself to grab her hand and pull her forward. When she tried to pull away, Dawna realized what the problem was and grabbed her other hand. “C’mon, Em. I know just the person to introduce you to.”

I wondered who she was thinking of and started scanning the crowd. When I spotted him I smiled, because Dawna was right. He was perfect. Emma protested for just a moment until she saw the first frown from a guest. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “We wouldn’t ever embarrass you, Em. Just give us a chance.”

Emma had always been the outgoing one in school, gorgeous and popular; I’d felt like the ugly duckling. To have the reverse happen was a bizarre feeling. But as my words sank home, she bucked up and stood straight and gave the frowning man a smile that was worthy of a homecoming queen. He let out a little chuckle and turned back to the group he was talking to.

A handsome man in the corner was our goal. He was tall and exotic looking, just the opposite of the so-American Emma. I’d guarded him on his way to a science award ceremony and Dawna had tried to date him because of his amazing looks. But she’d given up after one dinner, when he’d done nothing but talk about gene splicing.

Like I said … perfect.

“Remir? How are you?”

Emma’s mouth went wide when he turned those sapphire blue eyes our way. I didn’t blame her. It was like someone had set gemstones into a frame of aged honey pine. Gorgeous.

He reached out both hands for one of mine. “Celia Graves. What a wonderful surprise. I know so few people here.” He rolled his eyes. “Too much time in the lab, I suppose.”

“Remir, I’d like to introduce Emma Landingham. I think you two have a lot in common.” He turned his head and smiled at her and tipped his head just a bit in a how so? expression.

As I expected, Emma’s eyes had brightened. “Are you really Remir Sandrow? I loved your article in Scientific American last May. It’s no wonder you were up for the Nobel.” I hadn’t expected her to recognize Remir, but it should have occurred to me. Every field has its rock stars, and Remir was definitely one. They launched into a discussion about prokaryote cells and DNA and both Dawna and I were lost in moments. They never even saw us leave.

A gentle but piercing crystal bell caught our attention and I turned before I’d reached the next person I wanted to say hi to. I felt my heart rate speed up and let out a little internal cheer. While there’s nothing better than mingling with people in a non-work environment to cement a future work relationship, I wanted to get to the wine. The uniformed butler who had rung the bell looked as if he could be moonlighting from Buckingham Palace. “If I could have your attention, would everybody please come into the next room? We’re ready to begin.”

I smiled at Dawna and we started to move forward with the now-murmuring crowd. When I glanced back, I saw Emma and Remir deep in discussion, completely oblivious to the sudden absence of people in the room. Would she hate me if I interrupted? He was really giving her his full attention. I’d guarded him for nearly a week and I hadn’t seen him look at anyone like that. Or would she hate herself for missing the tasting? I asked Dawna, “What do you think? Should I tell them?”

Dawna looked back and took in the whole scene—from his hand, not so casually on the wall next to Emma’s shoulder, to her bright eyes and animated expression. “Nah. She’ll hate us. Let someone else spoil their moment.”

I agreed and went through the bejeweled curtain into the tasting room. Yay! At the front of the room was a small stage with a table covered by shimmering golden cloth. They were really pulling out all the stops for drama, building the anticipation, and I was loving every second of it.

The lights dimmed and two women walked out onto the stage and were hit by a spotlight. They were mirror images of each other, though with different-colored hair. They smiled at the crowd and picked up microphones. The blonde spoke: “Welcome, everyone, to our home.” She swept an arm gracefully to include the whole room. “I’m Pam.”

The redhead brought her mic to her mouth. “And I’m Sam. And we’re—”

“The Darby Twins.” They said the words together and everyone applauded. Pam lowered her mic and Sam kept talking. “You’ve been invited here tonight to share our excitement as we unveil a wine that’s the first of its kind in the world. You’re the very sort of connoisseurs who will most appreciate Witches’ Brew.”

What the—? First of its kind? Did they come up with a new variety of grape? There aren’t many different kinds of wine out there. I heard others asking the same questions in quiet voices that were barely audible. The scent of all of the expensive perfume and cologne was making me a little woozy in the closely packed room, but I couldn’t take my eyes off the sisters.

Pam picked up the story: “Sam and I come from a magical background. Our mother is a witch; and our father, a mage. The energy of the earth has filled our lives and we wanted to share that magic with you. We tried to figure out some way to make what we experienced available to others, and after long experiments and tests we discovered that we could actually infuse magic into the very soil where our vines grew … and that the grapes could absorb it.”

The whispering stopped dead.

“Excuse me?” A slender man with snow-white hair in the front row raised a hand. “Did you say there’s magic in the wine?” He looked around him, a bit blue around the gills. “Is that legal?”

Sam laughed easily, with no discomfort at all in her body language. “Oh, it’s very legal, and we can assure you there has been exhaustive testing for both purity and safety over the past two years. Each bottle bears the seal of the EPA and the certified organic emblem, plus symbols from the FDA and the MPRC, the Magical Protection and Regulatory Commission. This is why we’ve taken so long to introduce the wine. We didn’t want to risk any allergic reaction or other physical problems.”

Wow. Just wow. A magic wine. I shared a look with Dawna. Like me, she was now more excited to taste the wine than ever.

Pam picked up the mic again. “And now we’d like to introduce the man behind the magic. We searched long and hard to find someone who exemplified the spirit we wanted our wine to have. Proud and confident but with a soft finish. He’s world renowned for his skill and power and we’ve been beyond thrilled he’s been part of our journey. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome … John Creede!”

If I could have moved enough to faint, I would have. Wild applause filled the room until there was nothing but a roaring in my brain. I whipped around to stare at Dawna, and her sneaky smile told me exactly where our tickets came from. Creede stepped onto the stage and smiled and waved before hugging each sister. He was dressed in a traditional tux with a golden cummerbund that matched the decorations.

Not to mention the flame in his eyes. Wow.

Pam handed him her mic and he stepped over to the table. At his signal, Pam and Sam lifted the gold cloth and tossed it into the air. With a wave of Creede’s hand that would do any stage magician proud, the cloth disappeared.

Another round of applause came from the crowd, me included.

I found myself smiling. When Creede turned to the room, his eyes found mine. For a moment he seemed confused and his jaw dropped. He recovered in seconds, smiled again, and began his speech. “Thank you all for joining us here. It’s been really interesting, working with the Darby sisters in this venture. As many of you know, mages need to use their energy. We have to expend it somewhere. The more powerful the mage, the more there is to release.” I knew that from being around Bruno. My knives were part of that release. “Like many other practitioners, in the past I’ve concentrated on creating weapons for my business and the charm disk trade.” He spread his arms out with an expression of almost bliss. “But here at the vineyards, I’ve had the opportunity to give back to the very nature that provides my magic. It’s infused in the land, in the vines, and in the grapes. A little part of the magic that makes the world work is everywhere you walk. Please come forward and help yourself.” Another wave of his hand revealed long tables on each side of the room. I’d been wondering why everybody was squished together when the room seemed so much bigger. “We hope you enjoy the wine as much as the people who tasted it before you did.” He winked at the crowd and said, as an aside, whispering, with his lips right next to the microphone, “You know, the ones who gave us the gold medals in Europe.”

The tittering I heard around me said he had succeeded in ramping up the tension just a notch more. He’d never mentioned a word about this to me in all the time we’d spent together. It interested me that he would do something like wine making. I liked learning about unexpected talents in people I knew.

I tried to move forward toward the stage, but everybody else was heading for the tables and I wound up being forced in that direction. While I could have pulled on my supernatural strength and shoved my way through the crowd, it wasn’t really worth it. He’d still be there in ten minutes. So I let myself be propelled to a glass of Chablis. Dawna wound up at the other side of the room, where the goblets held Burgundy.

Two years of waiting, of reading bits of news and searching online for more information, were about to pay off. I raised the glass and inhaled deeply with both nose and mouth. The taste hit my tongue first—vanilla, chocolate, and just a hint of strawberries. But my nose picked up roses and oranges. How weird.

The glass tipped nearly of its own accord and smooth, cool liquid filled my mouth. The taste burst across my tongue—everything I’d smelled and tasted as well as some cantaloupe and fresh green grapes.

Then I heard the woman next to me, holding a glass of the very same wine, say, “Cherries with a woody overtone. It’s heavier than I expected, with more tannin, which is perfect. I normally don’t like white wines.”

I stared at my glass with furrowed brow. Were we drinking the same wine? I tapped her on the shoulder and she turned. She didn’t stare at my fangs, so I was being successful in hiding them. “I’m sorry to listen in, but I’m tasting chocolate and strawberries in mine.” I held up my glass. “Could we switch? I’m wondering if we have different varieties.”

Her elegantly painted brows rose slightly. “Interesting. I like strawberries. All right.” We traded glasses and I took a sip from the side of hers without the lipstick print. Her brow furrowed and so did mine. “It still tastes like cherries and wood.”

“No, like strawberries and chocolate.”

Other people started doing the same thing, switching glasses, and pretty soon all of us were looking confused.

Then we heard Creede’s voice over the growing noise of talking and everyone turned toward those glowing gold eyes. “And now you know what’s special about Witches’ Brew. It’s like no other wine because it’s tailored to the individual drinker. Every person will taste what he or she likes best. You can never serve a bad wine at a party again. The Pinot Noir will be perfect with shrimp or steak. The Chablis? Equally terrific with halibut or hamburgers. Always right … just like magic.”

He snapped his fingers and he and the sisters disappeared. People wanted to applaud, which is hard to do while holding wine goblets, but they managed, tapping fingernails on the glass.

The sisters made a grand entrance through the far doors, which burst open in a shower of glitter and fairy lights. They smiled and separated, moving into the room to do the meet and greet. But as much as I wanted to talk about the craft of making the wine, I wanted to do it with Creede. How had he managed the magic? I wasn’t a witch, but I loved talking about crafting. Bruno had gotten me hooked on the technique of spellcasting.

And … yeah, I wanted to thank him for the tickets.

But I didn’t see him. I looked around, through the sea of talking heads, and didn’t see his familiar golden curls. I finally got up on the stage and looked out over the crowd. But the event had spread out into multiple rooms and it could be that I was just missing him. I did see Emma and Remir, clinking glasses of blush, while Dawna was snuggling up to Latino soap star Fernando Gomez.

“Miss? Can I help you with something?”

I looked down to see a young man with an earphone and clipboard. I realized that I must look like an idiot up on the stage. “Sorry. I was looking for John Creede. He’s a…” A what, exactly? Associate? Friend? Colleague? Sort of all of the above and yet none of them. What the heck, I could embellish. “A friend. Have you seen him?”

He shook his dark hair with amusement. “Honey, everybody is Mr. Creede’s friend tonight. Everybody wants a piece of him. But I know all of his friends and I don’t know you.”

Oh. Talk about putting me in my place. “I’m Celia Graves.”

His eyes widened and his mouth actually dropped as he took in the dress and hair and, yes, he really did look for fangs. “Ohmigod! You’re Celia? Wow. He didn’t describe you quite like … um, well, let’s say I had a little more down-to-earth girl in my head, not a model.”

When I got back to the spa tonight, I was going to find my stylist and makeup person and hand each one a hundred-dollar tip. Because the look on this guy’s face was worth the price.

I felt special for the first time in weeks. “So, have you seen him?”

His eyebrows dropped and he thought. “You know, I haven’t seen him since the Darby sisters came back in. He should be around somewhere.” I started to walk down the stairs and he immediately jumped to my side and offered a hand. I took it because there wasn’t a banister and the risers weren’t very stable with three-inch heels. Once I had my feet back on the thick Oriental rug, he tapped the receiver in his ear. “John? Can you hear me?”

I waited while he listened, then shrugged and shook his head. “Sorry. He’s not answering.” He held out his hand. “I’m Andrew, by the way … John’s personal assistant. I’ve been with Miller and Creede since I was in college. He’s an amazing practitioner. I’m learning so much about the trade.”

I shook the hand. He had a good grip. Not too tight and there was a tingle of power there. But I could tell he’d never be at Creede’s or Bruno’s level. Maybe he was a level four. “Nice to meet you. I guess I’ll just wander around and hope I run into him.”

Andrew let out a frustrated noise. “I know he’s going to want to see you.” Then he snapped his fingers before giving his own forehead a little slap. “I bet I know where he is. He’s probably taken some people down to see the grotto.”

“The grotto? What’s that?”

He flipped open the cover of his clipboard, pulled a pen from behind the ear without the phone, and started drawing. “Oh, you’ve got to see it. That’s where all the magic happens. It’s amazingly beautiful. Here. Just follow this map and you can’t miss it.”

The paper he tore off showed an x in a circle that I presumed represented where we were now. It wasn’t much of a map—just a curvy line that ended shortly with another x. “Is it far?” I looked down at my slinky, strappy sandals. “These boots weren’t made for walking, Andrew.”

He put a hand on my shoulder. I raised my brows and lowered my chin. I don’t like it when people touch me. He pulled away instantly. “Sorry. Too much, huh? John tells me all the time I need to learn distance to work in this business. I’ve got to work on not touching. But no, in answer to your question, it’s not far. Probably not more than a hundred yards from where we are. Just follow the path to the right and it’s all downhill on a paved path. You’ll get to see some of the new vines, too. Very picturesque with all the paper lanterns.”

Well, it was gorgeous weather and my friends were otherwise occupied. What the heck. “Okay, thanks.” I took the paper and walked across the room to tap Dawna on the shoulder. “Be right back.” She nodded and returned to talking to her new favorite leading man.

* * *

Andrew had been right. It wasn’t a long walk and the path only went one place. The Japanese lanterns that had been strung along the pathways offset the twisted vines on waist-high poles and made them seem elegant. But when the string of lanterns ended, so did the paved path—as though people were supposed to stop when they reached the end of the lights. But there was a flickering light ahead in what looked like the mouth of a cave.

Oh. Duh. A grotto—as in cave.

There was enough light to see and the ground was hard-packed soil, so it was easy walking. As I approached, I could hear murmuring voices inside, so I stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt. I expected the cave itself to be cooler than the outside, but it was actually warmer. The press of light magic flowed over me as I walked down the steep path into the earth. The barrier explained the dampening of sound. Now that I was inside, the voice was louder, but I couldn’t make out what was being said.

Flowering vines covered the walls and ceilings, turning what would normally have been dark stone and soil into a burst of color and texture. The smell was amazing … soft and sweet but not cloying. Even though I didn’t recognize any of the individual flowers, together they smelled like a butterfly garden in the warmest part of spring. “Hello?” I called out softly. There was no answer.

Finally I saw a brighter light ahead and heard a roaring sound that reminded me of a bath being run in a distant room. The air felt moister, cooler, and heavier with magic. The combination of sensation and scent was amazing. I stepped into the main grotto. The ceiling was high enough I couldn’t actually see it, and the waterfall I’d heard was the height of a three-story building. I was so engrossed in looking around that I didn’t notice the circle drawn in white in the very center of the room, where a hooded figure was kneeling.

Crap. I’d walked into a casting.

The candles on the points of the compass were the giveaway and I should have recognized the muttering after hearing Bruno speaking in odd tongues all those years. I froze in place, remembering Bruno’s stern lectures: Never interrupt the caster, don’t speak, don’t break the circle, and don’t freak out at anything you see. He hadn’t been kidding about the last part. I’d seen full-blown tornadoes spring up in a casting circle. Demons had appeared in chains, pulled out from inside the person they were possessing, spewing all the vile excrement and lava of hell itself until they were banished by the mage.

I looked around and spotted a bench carved out of the rock wall next to a massive taproot from one of the ancient white oaks I’d seen from the road when we arrived. I could be quiet and I was really curious to find out if I was going to see a sample of Creede’s skill. I’d seen his power in battle and a hint of the finesse behind it. But to see a real casting was to see into the soul of a mage.

This seriously rocked.

I became a church mouse with a hungry cat nearby—utterly silent and watchful. Creede’s hands began to move; it looked like he was holding an invisible volleyball in front of his chest. I could see his face peering out from the shadow of the hood. The spell got stronger and his voice louder. A ball of energy appeared between his cupped hands. It had no form or color, visible only as wavy air currents, like heat rising from hot asphalt.

He lifted his arms and the tiny candles became flares to reach his shoulders. Wow. “Removie il parse … et parse … en natur!” The ball of energy took on a life of its own. Power flowed out from Creede’s skin to spin over his head until the ball of energy was bigger than a school globe and then bigger than a car.

Every muscle in my body jumped when he threw his hands forward. “Dispersei!” The energy exploded outward at his command, filling the whole circle until it seemed like it would burst. The candles tipped sideways, flames licking up the sides of the energy bubble until it was a full fledged ball of fire. I was a little afraid it was going to explode and stood up in case I needed to get out in a hurry.

That’s when the ball blew.

Creede’s hood was blown back by the force of the energy wave and his eyes were twin stars that were too large for his face. Concentric waves of energy began to flow out of the circle, ripples of magic that swept toward me with the speed and intensity of a tsunami.

I wasn’t going to be able to get out of the way in time.