This Wicked Magic

Chapter 28



A circle has no beginning and no end. There is, theoretically, no way in and no way out. The perfect means for protecting magic—and containing the vilest of evils.

It was amazing to watch the brothers work in tandem. Two masters of dark spellcraft who barely had to speak to one another and easily found a deep, harmonizing rhythm to their spell chant. CJ, stripped to but tattered jeans, stood barefoot in the center of the circle, the white-bone Nacht März in hand. He chanted low and bass to his brother’s matching bellow.

Thoroughly Jones, clad in black and wearing a top hat that emphasized his darkness with a steampunkish touch of mischief, walked the circle with a bended knee and a spring to his step, almost as if an Indian fancy dance. He recited a spell Vika was not familiar with, but she understood they were summoning a doppelganger for CJ, a double who would emulate him in flesh, blood and even soul and who would remain connected to CJ via a fine astral cord that should run between them. An invisible cord of life—CJ’s aura, if you will.

Vika had never seen the ceremony performed before, and she sat forward beside her sister, her elbows on her knees, fingers clutching the jade beads.

TJ nodded to Lucian, who had removed his shirt and wielded the steel pipe. Vika didn’t want to imagine its use, but she had a good idea. Blood from the vampire’s heart was the important ingredient.

“The things I do for friends.” Lucian offered the sisters a smirk.

Stepping inside the salt circle, the vampire handed the pipe to CJ, and without a second thought or a verbal warning, CJ jammed the pipe into his best friend’s chest.

Libby let out a chirp. They clasped hands, and Vika’s shiver joined her sister’s shaking. It wasn’t like her to get frightened during spellcraft. They pulled one another into a hug.

Blood poured out the end of the pipe, over CJ’s hands and onto his bare feet. The vampire braced himself against his friend’s shoulders, wincing yet otherwise appearing to take the intrusion as nothing more than a prick from a pin. CJ, using his left hand, traced over the spell tattooed above his heart, leaving a pentacle drawn in blood dripping down his skin. He then touched his forehead, his eyelids and chin, marking the spell.

“Out of the circle, Lucian!” TJ commanded.

The vampire nodded to CJ, who gripped the steel rod, and then he jerked his chest away from the weapon and stepped backward, watching his steps so as not to muss the salt circle. Once outside, he staggered and dropped to his knees. CJ tossed the bloody pipe out behind him.

“That’s my cue,” Libby whispered. She scampered over to the vampire’s side, catching him as he fell forward into her clutches.

Suddenly TJ shouted, “Harrahya!” and reached over the salt line to clasp his brother’s right hand firmly. The brothers raised their hands high. The room grew ominously shadowed, and outside lightning flashed.

The air electrified, lifting the hairs on Vika’s skin in a prickling tingle and bringing the various oils used in the spell to a heady perfume. Earthy vetiver filled the space, lemony sweet. Cinnamon and frankincense to access the psychic realm. Clary sage would attract and secure the doppelganger.

Inside the circle, CJ’s body went stiff, his eyes closed and his jaw clamped tightly shut, as if he was being pierced through with a shock of electricity. He’d dragged his bloody hands over his abdomen, leaving a tribal marking down the side of his torso.

Vika crept forward on the couch, feeling the urge to rush in and help. But she would only destroy the spell. She must be patient and trust the Jones brothers knew what they were doing.

Libby cradled Lucian’s head and shoulders in her lap, but the vampire observed the spell with keen eyes. He would be fine, the narrow pipe not wide enough to have made his heart burst. His healing should be complete within moments.

The brothers’ chants rose in a bellowing wave and knocked at the veil between the realms. Baritone rhythms mastered the atmosphere. Vika felt their voices upon her skin, permeating, exploring, laying claim. With a tribal yell, CJ’s body stiffened with a hand up in a triumphant clasp with his brother’s hand.

A chill swept about Vika’s shoulders as the claiming touch receded and she decided Daemonia had been breeched. CJ’s torso arched forward, while his head and feet remained back. He looked as though he were being tugged by a rope about his waist. The fingers of the hand he clasped within TJ’s stiffened, and she could see the struggle to unloose himself from the firm hold. Jaw tight, CJ fought against something.

When in Daemonia, Vika knew, the moments became days and hours turned to weeks or months. If the spell lasted only minutes on this side of the veil, CJ could well endure a week in the place of all demons.

She didn’t want that for him. Why had she let him go through with this? What sort of man would return, should he return? He would be changed, altered, perhaps even inhabited with more demons. Could the doppelgänger bring back demons to CJ’s soul?

Squeezing a pillow on her lap, she realized in her apprehension she’d torn the seam to expose the stuffing.

A glance to Libby found her sister riveted to the center of the circle, along with the vampire, who held a palm over his wounded chest.

TJ turned, twisting at the waist, and tugged at CJ’s hand, as if pulling on a tug-of-war rope. “He’s struggling,” he said to Vika.

“What can I do?”

The witch shook his head, dismissing her to focus his concentration on the task. He resumed chanting, deeply, rhythmically.

Standing, Vika spread out her fingers, but she had no magic to hand for she had no idea what her lover needed. She felt out of control, helpless. Her lover’s body was beginning to arch backward, his head tilted over his shoulders and his chest lifted. He stood on his tiptoes, an impossible feat. Yet he remained in that position, despite his brother struggling to maintain hold on his hand.

“Please let the war demon stand good on the bargain,” she whispered, and closed her eyes, whispering the same thing over and over as she began to mark out each bead on the strand of jade. Repetitive chanting would enforce the energies required to bolster the spell. The beads would keep her focused.

“He’s pulling me in,” TJ gasped. “I’m not sure I can hold him.”

“Let me help!” Lucian shouted.

TJ shook his head negatively. Any interference now from a nonwitch would deplete the spell’s strength.

She could see TJ’s body sliding toward the salt line. The moment his boot cut through the line, the consequences could prove disastrous. He had to remain outside the circle to keep hold of the spell.

Clasping the nail necklace, Vika winced. Just as the brothers’ hands separated, she leaped toward the circle, straddling it with one foot. Dropping the beads, she slid her hand into CJ’s and at the same time gripped TJ’s hand. “I can be an extension.”

“Yes, good.” TJ’s grip was sure in her hand. “So powerful,” he noted with a look of surprise. And then he switched to business mode. “Hold him, Vika. Don’t let him go!”

“Never.”

But her lover’s hand was hard and cold as ice, and it felt as if she’d laid her bare flesh against a frozen steel pole. The chill of Daemonia trickled through her veins, and she gasped in the incensed and blood-tainted air. She could feel his heartbeat, her lover’s galloping rhythm of life, and she would not give it up.

Tugged abruptly, her other foot lost hold and she lifted it as it entered the circle. CJ grasped her across the back. Face-to-face, they held one another, while TJ maintained his grip on her hand. She wasn’t sure if CJ was aware, conscious of what he was doing on this side of the connection, but she held his gaze in an attempt to keep him here. His clutch on her was strong, crushing out her breath.

“Libby, help!” she cried.

Libby dashed to her side yet remained outside the circle.

“Let her take CJ’s hand,” Vika called to his brother. “Our magic combined can hold him here.”

With a nod, TJ grabbed Libby’s hand and made the switch. Her sister grabbed CJ’s other hand, then took hold of TJ’s hand as he anchored himself, one leg bent and leaning forward to hold Libby to the safe side of the circle.

“Damn, your sister’s powers are strong,” TJ hissed. He tucked his head and focused.

Grandmother St. Charles’s power focused between the two of them. Normally it took three from the family—Vika, Libby and their sister, Eternitie—to invoke such power, but combined with TJ’s magic, it seemed to be doing the trick.

Vika felt the chill of Daemonia trickle through her veins, as if sluicing out to drip from her fingertips. The air grew humid, brewing up the cinnamon and frankincense. Blood cloyed at the back of her throat.

CJ’s body went lax, falling out of her and Libby’s grasps, and he collapsed on the floor, sprawled across the salt circle.

Vika teetered but did not fall, and she managed to stumble outside the circle. TJ caught Libby before she crashed in a sprawl on the floor.

Vika looked to TJ, who pointed to his brother’s hand, the one lying out of the circle.

In it glowed a bright blue halo.