“Ceri?” His gaze fell upon his ruined book, and in a surge of inspiration, he took it in hand as well. “I’m going out!” And then he vanished.
Part 2
Al stiffened as he materialized within a slim circle of silver inlaid upon what looked like imported tile. The circle was barely big enough for his feet, clearly not used for spelling but there to give a person a safe spot with which to jump into and out of. Still, it made him uncomfortable, and he shifted off it as he took in the changes in Newt’s underground apartments.
They all coveted spaces that were familiar and comfortable, but only Newt had the skill to turn visions into reality at will, and he wondered how much it would cost to have her spell his quarters so that it looked as if he was at the top of a penthouse gazing out magnificent windows when in reality they were thirty feet underground.
“Newt?” he called as he stepped from the raised entry foyer and into a plush living room with thick carpets and tasteful furniture. He didn’t recognize the space, but the era was obviously modern. Weaving among the low tables and couches, he came to a halt before the “window,” knowing better than to tap at it lest he destroy the illusion.
Tall ceilings, sparse lines, exquisite furnishings: it spoke of a pleasing wealth, but a frown took him when he realized the view was of the Hollows from downtown Cincinnati.
“Carew Tower?” he whispered, studying the skyline. When had Newt escaped the hell of the ever-after? Or more importantly, how? The sun was up in her vision. She was sneaking out. Minias wasn’t doing his job.Is Minias dead?
Confused, he studied an unfamiliar building towering in the Hollows down by the river. He would have sworn that building didn’t exist.
Yet?
Frowning, he turned back to the upscale apartment, afraid of the answer. Newt was the most…inventive of them to the point of recklessness. There had been a time when it had served them all well, freeing them from the elven yoke. A third of his library had been penned by her. But it was that very recklessness that had left her as crazy as a moth on a light. Playing with time left a mark. Destroying Newt’s memories to even things out had always had questionable results.
And here I am,he thought as he looked at the two books tucked between his arm and chest.About to take advantage of it.
No one, though, had noticed him, and he stood in the center of the room, growing uneasy. “Minias?”
He didn’t like the demon. Had argued that he was too ambitious to be playing the part of the subordinate familiar when in truth he was watching the ofttimes erratic Newt, learning her secrets, pretending to be her slave. That she was patterning her apartments after a future Cincinnati did not bode well.
But no one else had wanted the job.
“Newt?” he called, fluffing his lace nervously. Perhaps he should have called, but he was sure Minias monitored her scrying mirror, and he wanted to talk to her alone.
“Newt!” he called again, demanding this time.
A soft and certain thump turned him, coattails furling and eyebrows rising as Newt came tumbling out of the wet bar’s cupboard, the ancient demon sporting the slim, pale limbs of a child and her long, curly red hair in a disarming disarray.
“Three, two, one. Not it!” she shouted exuberantly as she swished her dress, changing it from a homespun frock to an elaborate Victorian lace and velvet to match Al’s attire.
Not good,he thought as the warning flags snapped.
To treat her as the child she currently was would be a mistake,and he eyed her sourly over his blue-tinted glasses. “Newt, where is Minias?”
The demon’s childlike face puckered, her black eyes staring unblinkingly at him in annoyance. She’d gotten them from staring too long into a ley line, or so it was said. He only knew one day she had the red, goat-slitted eyes of a demon, and the next, these monstrosities.
“Looking for me,” she said, her voice still high with youth.
“Mmmm.” He turned to the window, appreciating the sun—even if it was only a memory. “How long have you been hiding in the cupboard?” He took a steadying breath. “You didn’t kill Minias, did you?”
“Not yet,” she said wistfully. “We were playing, and…” Hesitating at a thought, she narrowed her eyes in anger. “Damn it back to the Turn,” she continued, her voice deepening. “He did it again.” Angry, she began to shift, her margins blurring as she grew, losing the lankiness of youth when her shoulders broadened and her bare feet became almost ugly. “Minias! You son of a bitch! Get back here!”
Al breathed a sigh of relief. He didn’t like dealing with the child. It always got the better of him. “I’d rather you didn’t. Three’s a crowd.”
Newt’s anger vanished, her attention diverted as he set the mutilated book down on the table between them with a sliding thump.
Eyeing it, Newt ran a hand over her hair, pulling it out of existence until she was bald. Her proper Victorian frock, too, vanished, leaving her in a gold and black silken spelling robe. Her feet were still bare, and her black eyes just as disturbing, but her hands were now slim with age, her fingers long and narrow as if to fit in tight spaces no one else could manage—as her thoughts often did.
Mood entirely changed, she slumped onto an indulgent couch.“Reading in the bath again, Gally?” she said as she reached to pull it closer. “This was mine. I don’t remember giving it to you.”
“You did.” She was herself again. Or as close to herself as she generally got, and Al wondered if he should sit. It didn’t feel quite safe yet. “The, ah, damage, I’m afraid, is the cost of grooming a potential familiar. Can you…”
She pulled her pale fingers from the cover as it began to glow. “Of course.” Smiling with her lips closed, she crossed a knee over the other and gestured at the couch across from her.
