Shit. I think we’re in trouble.
I lurched after her, but she jerked me back when we found the middle of the empty space. “Sit,” she said, her hands shaking as she tried to yank me down.
Okay, we weren’t leaving. “Ceri—” I began and then my jaw dropped when she flicked a dirt-caked jackknife from her back pocket. “Ceri!” I exclaimed as she sliced her thumb open. Blood gushed, and while I stared, she drew a large circle, mumbling Latin. Her waist-length, almost-translucent hair hid her features, but she was trembling. My God, she was terrified.
“Ceri, the sanctuary is holy!” I protested, but she tapped a line and invoked her circle. A black-stained field of ever-after rose to encompass us, and I shuddered, feeling the smut of her past demon magic slither over me. The circle was a good five feet in diameter, rather large for one person to hold, but Ceri was probably the best ley line practitioner in Cincinnati. She cut her middle finger, and I grabbed her arm. “Ceri, stop! We’re safe!”
Wide-eyed in panic, she shoved me off her, and I fell into the inside of her field, hitting it like a wall. “Get out of the way,” she ordered, starting to draw a second circle inside the first.
Shocked, I pulled myself to the center, and she smeared her blood behind me.
“Ceri—” I tried again, stopping when I saw her intertwining the line with the first, enforcing it. I’d never seen that before. Latin words fell from her lips, dark and threatening. Pinpricks of power crawled over my skin, and I stared when she cut her pinkie and started a third circuit.
Silent, desperate tears marked her face as she finished and invoked it. A third sheet of black rose over us, heavy and oppressive. She switched the filthy gardening blade to her bloodied hand and, shaking, prepared to cut her left thumb.
“Stop!” I protested. Frightened, I grabbed her wrist, sticky with her own blood.
Her head swung up. Blue eyes lost in terror met mine. Her skin was chalk white.
“It’s okay,” I said, wondering what Newt had done to cause this self-assured, unflappable woman to lose it. “We’re in the church. It’s sanctified. You built a damn fine circle.” I looked at it humming over my head, worried. The triple circle was black with a thousand years of curses that Algaliarept, the demon I’d saved her from, made her pay for. I’d never felt such a strong barrier.
Ceri’s pretty head shook back and forth, lips parted to show tiny teeth. “You have to call Minias. God help us. You have to call him!”
“Minias?” I questioned. “Who in hell is Minias?”
“Newt’s familiar,” Ceri stammered, her blue eyes showing her fear.
Was she nuts? Newt’s familiar was another demon. “Give me that knife,” I said, wrestling it from her. Her thumb was bleeding, and I looked for something to wrap it in. We were safe. Newt could have the run of the back for all I cared. Sunup was near, and I’d sat in a circle and waited for it before. Memories of my ex-boyfriend Nick rose through me and vanished.
“You have to call him,” Ceri gushed, and I stared when she fell to her knees and started scribing a plate-size circle with her blood, tears spotting the old oak timbers as she worked.
“Ceri, it’s okay,” I said, standing over her in confusion.
But when she looked up, my confidence faltered. “No, it isn’t,” she said, her voice low, the elegant accent that gave away her royal beginnings now carrying the sound of defeat.
A wave of something pulsed, bending the bubble of force that sheltered us. My gaze went to the half sphere of ever-after around us, and from above came a clear bong of the church bell resonating. The black sheet protecting us quivered, flashing the pure color of Ceri’s blue aura for an instant before returning to its demon-fouled black state.
From the archway at the back of the church came Newt’s soft voice. “Don’t cry, Ceri. It won’t hurt as bad the second time.”
Ceri jerked, and I snatched her arm to keep her from running for the open door and breaking her own circle. Her flailing hand struck my face, and at my yelp she collapsed to slump at my feet. “Newt broke the sanctity,” Ceri said around her sobs. “She broke it. I can’t go back there. Al lost a bet, and I twisted her curses for ten years. I can’t go back there, Rachel!”
Frightened, I put my hand on her shoulder, but then hesitated. Newt was female. Then my face blanked. Newt was in the hallway—the sanctified part.
My thoughts returned to that pulse of energy. Ceri had once said it was possible for a demon to desanctify the church, but that it was unlikely as it cost far too much. And Newt had done so without a thought. Shit.