Street Magic

the underworld," said Pete, tilting her head back and shutting her eyes. "I feel so broadened."
    "Hell," said Jack. "Not the underworld. You're talking about the land of the dead. Hell is another prospect entirely. It's a rather terrible insult to suggest that they're the same."
    "Because God knows, the
biggest
concern I have right now is insulting a demon," Pete muttered. She was being snarky mostly because she could feel the pull against her skin and her mind, that same prickle that had overtaken her in the tomb long ago. Nervous twitches sprang to life in her gut.
    "Jack," she said. He flicked his fingernail against a twist of paper and a slow ember started, curling a little smoke into the air. He dropped it inside the circle and the smoke curled and spread but never crossed the boundaries.
    "Jack," Pete said again, louder. Jack glanced up at her.
    "Yeah?"
    Pete fidgeted. The circle vibrated a little at the edge of her vision, caused a ringing in her ears. "This will be different, won't it?"
    Jack's irritation sluiced away and he gave her a regretful smile.
    "Yeah, Pete. This time will be different. You have to trust me, right?"
    To
believe
you
, Pete thought.
Trust is another thing
. But she didn't say it out loud. Jack hadn't earned that, in spite of her dependence on him now that her flat was destroyed. It was just her feeling, the same one that let her know she was walking down a bad alley and would do well to turn around.
    "Hrathetoth!" Jack said, not shouting but definitely commanding something. "Hrathetoth, the offering has been placed upon the consecrated ring and I command thee, at my will, appear." Jack sounded as if he were reading off a tube schedule between High Barnet and King's Cross, but the lack of ceremony did nothing to put Pete at ease. That was how it had started, before.
    Something sparked and popped in the center of the circle, over the pool of catsup. "Come off it, Hrathetoth!" Jack snapped. "I compelled you; now show your weasely little face. It's not as if you have a
choice
."
    A screech like a cat in the jaws of a bulldog stood the short hairs on Pete's neck on end, and then a snarling, twitching, fur-covered blob materialized in the circle, growing cohesive and gaining tiny horns and clawed toes and a pair of glowing yellow eyes.
    Hrathetoth the imp looked, on the whole, like an angry dust lion grown to unusual size and gifted with teeth and limbs. "Crow-mage!" it shrieked when it caught sight of Jack. "Explain yourself!"
    "Cut that out," Jack said, flicking another catsup packet at Hrathetoth with a bored movement. "We both know this is the most excitement you'll have in a decade."
    Hrathetoth blinked his lanternlike eyes at Pete. "Who is she? She is pretty. Pretty and dark, like a starless sky, or the inside of a rhinoceros."
    "You'll forgive him," said Jack as Hrathetoth decimated the packet and began licking up catsup. "Demons don't really grasp the concept of metaphor and simile."
    "Is she going to heeeelp you?" Hrathetoth grinned widely, showing too many rows of spiked needle teeth. "Because you know you can't save yourself, crow-mage, and—"
    He let out a gurgle as Jack's hand flashed out and wrapped around Hrathetoth's throat. "Listen here, you piece of deception given form, I'm not in the mood. I need the Trifold Focus and I need it now, so bloody go get it."
    "Can't be done!" Hrathetoth squeaked. "Grinchley wards his house against intruders! Strong wards, with nasty mean teeth."
    "
Then find a way around them
," Jack growled, and the witchfire flared to life in his eyes. His grip on Hrathetoth started to steam and the demon squealed in pain. Pete rapidly came and put a hand on his shoulder.
    "Jack, maybe he's telling the truth."
    "He's a bloody demon, Pete. They don't understand truth—just how much flesh they can take off your hide in exchange for the favor." He shook the imp. "Isn't that right, Hrathetoth?"
    "Yes… yes…" Hrathetoth agreed. "Villainy and deceit down all the days! But Grinchley is guarded, crow-mage, by things bigger and hungrier than me and I can't change it!"
    Jack jerked Hrathetoth closer to the edge of the chalk. "I told you to fucking quit with the 'crow-mage'!"
    "No!" Hrathetoth screamed. "Don't break it!" Pieces of his fuzzy black fur dropped off and burned away as they touched the chalk.
    "Afraid of dying? Then get me the Focus!" Jack bellowed. "I
command
it!"
    "If you break the ring, not only will it be me, but the pretty darkling, too!"