the bad pavement. As I had expected, traffic eased, and I let up on my death grip on the wheel. Ahead of us, the Hollows was beautiful with light, and I sneezed, jerking unexpectedly. “Bless you,” Ivy said and Jenks chuckled.
“That’s funny,” he said. “A vampire blessing.”
I would have agreed with him, but my gut cramped up, stopping my words. “Ow,” I said, putting a hand to my middle.
Ivy turned to me. “You okay? You look green.”
“I feel green.” Twisting, I took a quick look behind me to see if I could shift into the exit lane. “My gut cramped up is all. I’m fine.” But I wasn’t. I was dizzy, too. It was almost like the time—Shocked, I looked at Jenks. He was looking at me with the same horrified expression. Crap. It was after sunset. Someone was summoning Al, and since I had his summoning name, they were going to get me instead.
“Rachel? “Ivy questioned, clueless.
No! I thought, scared. I wasn’t a demon. I could not be summoned like this!
But I’d been summoned before by black-arts witches trying for Al, and this was exactly what it had felt like.
My breath hissed in as another wave of pain hit me. A horn blew behind us, and I yanked the car back into my lane. “No,” I panted through my teeth. “I won’t go. You can’t make me.”
“She’s being summoned!” Jenks shrilled, and Ivy’s face, now close to mine, became terrified. “Ivy, she’s being summoned!”
“Pull over!” Ivy exclaimed. “Rachel, stop the car!”
I couldn’t think, it hurt that bad. My hands gripped the wheel and I seized, the engine racing until I jerked my foot off the gas. The car lurched, and my head hit the wheel. Tears pricked, and I held my breath, trying to make the world stop spinning. Damn it, I should have insisted that Al give me my password back. But as long as I had his, he couldn’t abduct anyone.
“Ivy! Do something!” Jenks yelled as another pain ripped through me. I let go of the wheel to clutch my middle. Ivy grabbed the wheel as the car swerved. Vampiric incense rolled over me, and the car jerked as it hit the curb and swung back.
My head hit the wheel again, and a horn blew. “Ow,” I moaned, trying to open my eyes. I could smell ashes. I wouldn’t go. I was not a demon!
Vertigo hit, and I reached out, grasping anything as the ground was jerked from me, hands digging into the door, the seat … anything.
“Get out, Jenks!” Ivy screamed. “We’re going to hit!”
There was a quick hum of wings, and then a terrifying jerk. The sound of plastic splintering and the screaming of wheels was loud. My face hit something that felt like a wall and smelled like plastic. The hold on my will cracked, and with the suddenness of a drop of water leaving a faucet, I felt my body suck inward, pulling my soul and aura with it.
And I wasn’t in the car anymore.
The sudden cessation of pain was a shock. I tried to take a breath, but I didn’t have lungs. I was in the ley lines, the warmth and tingling sensation familiar as I was pulled who knew where. Somewhere between my car hitting something and now, I had accepted the smut of the demon curse and the pain had vanished. It hurt only when you resisted.
Oh my God, Ivy and Jenks. They had to be okay. I think the airbag had deployed. We’d hit something, and I was okay, but Ivy and Jenks …
Anger replaced my fear. Someone had pulled me out of existence, causing an accident that I’d live through but that my friends might not. Jenks, I thought, imagining his fragile body against the glass, slowly going cold in the night air as no one looked for him. Damn it, someone was going to pay for this!
I’d traveled ley lines enough to know how to keep my soul together, and once I relaxed, it was absurdly easy. Al refused to teach me how to jump the lines by myself, but I could ride them. A tingling whispering through my thoughts gave me warning, and I stiffened as my aura rose through my mind, tapping into the demon archive to find out what I looked like, then turning the energy of the ley line into a body. At least, that’s what Al said that itchy feeling was.
I shuddered, tasting the disjointedness of what felt like a broken ley line slice raw across my awareness, tasting of salt and cracked stone. The uncomfortable feeling ran through me like water in a saltshaker, and I squirmed as I felt myself take shape with an unusual slowness, as if everything was being checked twice.
My lungs were filling with air that was just a shade more substantial than I was, and I stumbled, not quite solid yet. I was standing, though, which was a lot better than showing up facedown. Not yet visible to my summoner, I sniffed deeply. There was no scent of burnt amber—I was in reality, and that was a relief. I’d be dealing with people. A demon might be a problem, but I could convince people to let me out, and then I could do some damage. I knew how to play this game. When summoned, demons couldn’t lie except by omission, but I wasn’t a demon.
There was a faint hum of chanting. I was in a high-ceilinged, round room, dimly lit with a white floor etched in black to make circles intersecting circles. Granite, I thought, thinking it was almost the inverse of Al’s kitchen floor. I was trapped in the center of a huge six-pointed star that took up most of the room. The protection circle holding me was actually a shallow ditch made to contain salt, blood … whatever. It glowed faintly, the thick haze fading to a soft shimmer a mere three inches above the floor. The sound of gulls turned my attention upward to the open round skylight high above. No clouds, but the clear transparency of dusk told me it was sunset.
Holy crap! Was I on the West Coast? How in hell was I supposed to get home?
With a soft shiver, my aura finished rising through me, carrying the thought of my body with it and coalescing around my mind to leave a nasty taste of ash on my tongue. I had arrived.
Squinting, I brought a hand up to shade my eyes to better see the five people standing at equal intervals around the six-pointed star. I didn’t look like Al, but he could appear as anything he wanted. Any demon summoner worth his salt would know that.
Abruptly I realized where the soot taste was coming from, and horror filled me. I was covered in ash. The faint white haze on my clothes was some dead person’s ashes!
“Oh my God!” I shouted, smacking at myself to get it off. The chanting abruptly stopped as I danced about the interior of the circle, beating the chunky dust off me. It only made things worse, and I began coughing on someone’s dead grandmother. My eyes watered, and I finally gave up, glaring at them from around my hair, now all over the place. Damn it, I was covered in strawberries and human remains. This was really gross, but the more I brushed at it, the more it stuck to my leather coat, like pixy dust on wet leaves.
Disgusted, I slowly turned in a circle to look at them. Jaw clenched, I tapped the nearest ley line, feeling that same disjointed cracked sensation again, and I wondered if this was why the U.S.-wide coven meetings were held here. If you weren’t born to it, trying to use the ley lines on the West Coast would be like Russian roulette. Earth magic wouldn’t work at all within a hundred miles of the ocean, a fact that led ley-line witches to think that they were superior to earth witches, but earth magic functioned on fresh water, and put a ley-line witch on a boat—any boat—and they were in trouble without a familiar. I was on the West Coast? Al would laugh his ass off.
Between us, the opalescent sheet of the ever-after showed a hint of all their collective auras, not a shade of black among them. My pulse quickened. This might be harder than I thought. These people looked professional, not like the laughable excuse for black-arts witches dressed in hokey black robes who had once summoned me into a basement. The summoning pattern was odd, too. Not that I’d been in the middle of many, but usually it was a five-pointed star, not six-. This was an old configuration. If it had been a friendly spell, I’d be at the position of power where I could draw from the other six. Here, I was their prisoner.
Two women, three men, varying ages. They were dressed professionally