We walked in companionable silence across the land, the stars spreading in a twinkling blanket overhead. “Nightwalkers should be astronomers,” I remarked. “You’re up all night anyway.”
“An intriguing idea,” Ansel said in his mild voice. “Had I any interest in astronomy, I might consider it.”
I gave him an appreciative laugh. Ansel spent the nights he wasn’t visiting his girlfriend watching classic movies or scouring the Internet for his next big antique find.
We reached the top of a rise and hiked down the other side. While this land could look fairly flat from the window of my comfortable hotel, walking it involved some climbing in treacherous footing. Washes could open abruptly at our feet, made from streams that carried water from the mountains down, down, down, to join larger rivers. The water had carved out sheer sandstone cliffs over the millennia, beautiful on a hike, but deadly to the unwary on a dark night.
The vortex that held the gateway to Beneath lay in a fold of land that snaked east to west, perpendicular to most of the canyons. A vortex isn’t a physical landmark that can be seen, but more like a ripple in the aura of a place. Energy collects in swirls that can be felt by the magically inclined. Spells work better with vortex energy, and some people believe they have healing qualities.
For those in the know, vortexes can certainly be used to enhance magic and spells, but the risk is horrific. Vortexes can crack open the earth and let out demons and other nasties to make the life of the mage practicing at the vortex very bad.
The wash Mick and I had filled in lay like a scar on the landscape, a pile of rocks, dead tree limbs, sand, and jutting boulders. Under the moonlight the wash stretched like a pale ribbon to end under a clump of cedars.
All was quiet. I felt no disturbance in the vortex, no sign of the goddess beneath trying to work her way out again. I breathed a sigh of relief. She would someday, of that I had no doubt. But not tonight.
“Janet,” Ansel said in a worried voice.
I felt another aura, dark and crushing, which hadn’t been there a moment ago. One minute, the night had been clean and fresh; the next, oppressive and murky, the moonlight dimming.
That dim light glinted on the gold rims of glasses and sparkled on the diamonds in its temple pieces. Emmett stepped from the shadow of a tall sandstone boulder on a rise above the wash.
“Good to see you awake at last, Janet,” he said.
Chapter Eleven
Emmett hadn’t been leaning against the boulder, no. That might mess up his suit. Even so, he slid a handkerchief from his breast pocket and brushed off his sleeve, an affectation of his.
I ran up the hill, ready to tear his silk tie off him and make him eat it. “What the hell did you do to me?” I yelled. “Did you spell me?”
The eyes behind the glasses fixed me with a cold stare. “If you are going to be hysterical, I can spell you. Would you like that?”
“Touch me, and I’ll dust you. Did you put me into that coma? Or were you trying to kill me and didn’t succeed?”
Emmett tucked his handkerchief neatly into his pocket. “Someone has you riled. No, I did not put you into a coma. You woke up those demons all by yourself, got caught in the chaos, and were knocked out. If you had simply handed me your mirror¸ I would have considered myself your ally and helped you. As it was, I had to watch you go down under garden-variety demons.”
I clenched my fists, trying to catch my breath. “You expect me to believe that?”
“You will believe what you wish. I promise I did not open the pocket under the Flat Mesa motel and let out the demons. You did that yourself.” Emmett made a dismissing gesture. “If I wanted you dead, Janet, you’d be dead.”
“I had dreams,” I said in a hard voice. “Not normal dreams—the kind achieved only by magic.”
His gaze sharpened. “Dreams can be interesting. What were they?”
I made a frustrated noise. “I don’t remember now.”
“Again, interesting. Would you like me to help you remember?”
The last thing I wanted was Emmett tinkering in my brain. “No, thank you.”
“Your dreams would be fascinating. What does a Stormwalker envision in the night? Conquering hail?”
“Funny. Go away before I lose control and kick your ass.”
“No,” Emmett said, not moving. “I came for the magic mirror. I will have it, my dear, one way or another.”
His glasses began to gleam. I felt the bite of his power, a small one, testing me.
The night was beautifully clear, no storm on the horizon. Perfect for stargazers, bad for me. I had Beneath magic, of course, but if I used that here, I risked opening the vortex and letting out the hell goddess below us.