I changed my perspective again, this time focusing on the magic around me. I drew on the bril iant strands, pul ing the magic into my body. I absorbed only the blue and green swirls, as those were the Aetheric strands that resonated swirls, as those were the Aetheric strands that resonated with me. My astral body fil ed with the magic, shining a bril iant turquoise. I stepped out of myself once again and ensured that there were no dark points and that nothing malicious had attached to my psyche. Then, fil ed with magic, I free-fel back into my physical body.
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my apartment.
Roy was gone, PC was stretched across my lap, and my back ached from too many hours sitting in one place. But though I registered the soreness, I was too giddy to care.
Magic fil ed my body, rushed through my veins. I felt like I could do anything. Anything. But I couldn’t. That was another danger of magic, and why it needed to be stored or used immediately.
I refil ed my ring first, pushing as much raw magic into it as the obsidian could hold. Then I focused on refreshing my personal shields and charms. The maintenance took more than half of the magic I was holding—my capacity had never been great—but what was left was more than enough for the charm I intended to craft.
I’d found no reference to a successful charm letting the bearer see through glamour. But I could already see through glamour. I just needed to know when to look.
I grabbed my knife and the wooden disk. As I cut the first stroke of the glyph for awareness into the disk, I released a steady trickle of magic and focused on what I wanted the charm to do. Once I’d finished the first glyph, I started on the rune meaning truth.
As I carved, the charm began to buzz with magic, the spel taking hold. By the time I cut the last stroke of the final rune, warning, the charm al but vibrated with power. I released the rest of the raw magic I held, al owing it to dissipate harmlessly. Then I clipped the disk to my charm bracelet. The wood looked out of place with al the silver, but it felt like the strongest charm I’d ever personal y cast.
Now I just had to hope it worked.
Chapter 4
“Alex,” a deep voice said.
I buried my head in my pil ow.
“Alex,” the voice said again, more insistent this time. A finger traced the ridge of my ear, the touch light enough to tickle.
I rol ed away and pried open my sleep-encrusted eyes. A confusing array of colors swirled in my vision. I squinted, trying to decipher the different layers of reality. One of the first lessons taught in academy had been how to maintain mental shields, even during sleep. But every morning for the last month I’d woken to the madness of colors and multiple planes of reality.
I concentrated on my mental shields, envisioning the vines surrounding my psyche as a solid wal with no gaps.
Slowly the world resolved itself back into my bedroom, washed in morning light. I sat up. Death stood less than a foot from the side of my bed. He smiled at me, his dark hair loose around his face and his thumbs tucked in the pockets of his jeans.
“Is this a social or a business cal ?” I asked, brushing back a tangle of curls from where they’d fal en in front of my eyes.
“I was thinking it had been a while since I had coffee.”
Social.
I col apsed back against my pil ow and PC lifted his head to grunt at me in disapproval. After voicing his general upset, the dog tucked his white-plumed tail over his nose and closed his eyes again. I seriously wished I could do the same, but Death was stil standing there, watching me with same, but Death was stil standing there, watching me with a grin on his face.
“Why am I awake?”
Death shrugged. “I could watch anyone sleep.”
But only I could see him. Wel , that wasn’t completely true.
Any grave witch could see and talk to soul col ectors if the witch straddled the chasm between the living and the dead, but I was the only grave witch I knew who could see col ectors while not in touch with the grave. And, more important, I was the only grave witch who could physical y interact with col ectors. Death had been visiting me since I was a child.
Forcing myself awake, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and fought to untangle my feet from the sheets. I frowned when I realized I was stil wearing yesterday’s jeans and tank. Right, I spent most of the night watching old movies with Holly. Caleb, my landlord and third housemate, had urged me back upstairs after I’d fal en asleep on his couch. Changing had seemed overrated by the time I’d made it to my bed.
After a few fruitless kicks at the ensnaring sheets, which didn’t free me, I reached down to unwind them from my legs. Death watched, his expression losing some of its playful edge.
“Nightmares again?” he asked, his voice serious.