Deals with the devil the.., p.10
Deals with the Devil (The Devil's Due Series Book 1), page 10
“Like your grandmother?”
“Yes. No!” Nope, I did not want to be like Gram, one of the most powerful witches in the world. Nope. “I mean, I just want to get tenure –”
“Tenure,” she interrupted. “isn’t the only thing at stake. You can’t really afford to be distracted.”
“I’m not worried,” I assured her. “Classes are fine, and I just sent off my book proposal to a couple of editors.” I lied. I hadn’t sent my book proposal, and I was suddenly feeling very worried.
“How is your grandmother?” She asked abruptly.
Why all the interest in my Gram? “She’s great. She’s away right now. On a cruise.”
“So, she’ll be home soon.” It was more a statement than a question.
“Yes,” I said slowly. “Maybe another week or so.”
She seemed relieved. “And how is your work for the undergraduate curriculum committee going?”
“It’s keeping me busy, but I expect to have the report you requested by the end of the semester,” I lied again. I’d forgotten all about that committee. I chewed my lip. Mira was right, I couldn’t afford to be distracted. I felt a sudden certainty that the library was, indeed, showing me my career going up in flames.
But according to sources (“sources” being some guy with bibles and an undergraduate prophet), Satan was coming to town. That would be pretty distracting for anyone.
“Wonderful. Perhaps that will give you time to focus on other things.”
Everything in the room crystallized sharply, like a rubber band snapping.
Mira knew something.
Then she continued talking, as if the room had never frozen. “You were hired to do a lot more than write your book.” She leaned across her desk toward me.
I leaned back in my chair.
“Of course,” I said slowly. I smiled tentatively, trying to hide how uneasy she was making me feel. “I know there are several responsibilities to my job, Mira.”
“Do you?”
What the hells? This was not only weird, it felt vaguely threatening.
She cleared her throat and returned to her paper shuffling. “I’m glad everything’s going smoothly!” she said brightly. “Nothing unusual? Anything you might have concerns or questions about?”
I fought to keep my face bland and managed to shake my head innocently, as if I couldn’t think of a thing.
But I was thinking of a lot of things.
Mira narrowed her eyes at me accusingly, quite a feat given that she was now practically bouncing in her seat, jiggling her pen, and still moving papers around on her desk, although she wasn’t looking at them.
“The police came by yesterday to clear the roses out of your office.”
I grimaced. “I seem to have an over-enthusiastic admirer. I’m sure the police will figure it out.” I snorted inside. The police would never figure this out.
“You seem to have a lot to keep track of. I hope you don’t allow all of these other matters to deter you from the work you’re here to do.”
“I’m perfectly capable of doing my work, Mira,” I assured her firmly. But I was lying again. I did not feel capable of dealing with all of this. The work stuff wasn’t a problem – research, writing, teaching. I’d trained for that, because it was what I wanted more than anything else.
It was the other stuff. The magic that buzzed more insistently every time I stepped foot on campus. Books flying through the air. Birds eating sprites. Sword fights. I was not capable of dealing with any of that. But that’s why Gram was on her way home.
“Yes, let’s hope so,” Mira sighed. “Thank you for stopping by. Just wanting to catch up with all the new hires. I’ve been so busy with the start of the semester, and the – all the students and new hires and everything, it’s been hard to find time for a visit. Thanks for coming by.” She waved at me in dismissal.
I blinked. That was a lot of stress for a quick how-do-you-do that included a weird interrogation about Gram and having my professionalism questioned. I stood to go. “Oh, Mira?” I asked casually before reaching her door. “Something interesting did happen last week.”
She dropped the pen and froze. After a few seconds she found her voice. “Oh?” she squeaked.
“Yes, thought I’d mention it.” She leaned forward over her desk. “One of our majors submitted for a big award over the summer, and it looks like she might get it.”
It took her a second to react. Then she practically draped herself over the desk in relief. “Oh! That’s wonderful. Be sure to pass her name on to Karen so we can get it into the newsletter. Actually, an email would be best. Karen’s been so busy. Just email her. Don’t go see her. She’s a little stressed right now.” I nodded and shut the door behind me.
Mira definitely knew something was happening on campus, and I was starting to suspect she might be part of it. Because come on, how did we get through all seven minutes of that meeting and she didn’t ask me one time about the Renaissance Faire? And why was she so intense about me knowing how to do my job? I knew how to do my job!
More importantly, what did Mira do to cut off Jane when she’d been about to invoke – something?
Who was the department chair?
14
One Damn Thing After Another
I stopped by the main office to check my mailbox. More postcards about upcoming publications.
“How’s your thumb?”
I turned around to find Karen at the door to the adjoining office. She looked exhausted – her mullet was dull and limp, her face pale.
“Fine, thanks. It was just a little thorn prick. How are you?”
She straightened up and gave me a tight smile.
“Very busy,” she said in her usual crisp tone. “Middle of the semester is always crazy, isn’t it?” She bustled to her desk and sat down, pulling her keyboard out. “All the students with their midterm exams, and faculty who need things. Which reminds me, Luna, you haven’t sent in your book order for next semester’s classes yet.” She looked at me sternly.
“Oh! Sorry! I thought I did that.” I lied again. This was becoming a habit. The image of my career going up in flames flashed through my mind again
Karen frowned. “Get your book order in as soon as possible, please. The bookstore needs to know.” She looked at me disapprovingly. “I run a tight ship in this department, Luna. The rest of us can’t do our jobs until you faculty do yours.”
“Of course,” I smiled agreeably. I glanced around the office. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place. No loose papers, everyone’s mail neatly piled in their mailslot. Karen’s desk was neat as a pin, as always. She really did run a tight ship.
“Are those…strawberries?” I asked her, indicating the bowl on her desk.
“Yes. Would you like one?” She offered me the bowl, still not smiling. “Just snacking a little. Some days I don’t have time to take a lunch break.”
“No! No, I don’t want any strawberries, thank you. Just surprised to see them in October, is all.” And on her desk, where food was never allowed. “I’ll get my book order in asap.”
She watched me leave, biting into a juicy red berry.
I pulled out my phone and called Pam as soon as I got outside. “You are a life-saver!”
She laughed. “I’m no Luna Farrelly! But I’ll be your sidekick! Super-Pam!”
I laughed, too. “Thank you so much for the text. I did forget about the meeting today, can you believe it?”
“What text?”
“The one you sent to remind me I had a meeting with Mira today.”
“I didn’t send you a text. I didn’t even know you had a meeting with Mira today.”
I stopped walking.
“Hold on,” I told her. I scrolled through my phone. There was no text from Pam. There were no texts at all today. “Sorry, it was someone else. I thought it was you.”
I sat on the bench outside the building. Who sent the text? And where did it go?
“No problem, but can I still be Super-Pam?” she asked sincerely.
“Yes! You are definitely Super-Pam,” I laughed, glancing across the sidewalk to the parking lot. There was a police officer at my illegally parked car. “I gotta go!”
“Hey!” I shouted to the policeman as he was ripping a ticket out of his hand-held ticket-making gizmo. “Hey, I’m right here! I just had to drop something off!” I ran over waving my phone at him. “C’mon, can’t you let it go this once? I was dropping something off,” I lied, the falsehood slipping easily from my mouth. That had been happening a lot lately.
“Sorry, miss,” he shrugged, handing me the ticket. “It’s already in the system.” He waved his pocket computer at me with one hand and dug a candy bar out of his pocket with the other.
My shoulders slumped. “Great,” I muttered.
“You new at UConn?”
“Yes! And I’m still getting settled and everything,” I added, still hoping to get out of the ticket.
“You know, there’s plenty of parking in W Lot.”
“That’s almost two miles away!” I protested. He shrugged and walked away. Not his problem. “And I’m not a ‘miss’!” I yelled after him. “I’m an English professor!”
There was yellow police tape across my front door. I sat in my car staring at it, wondering what I was supposed to do.
I wanted to go back to not participating. I wanted to pretend everything was fine, no magic, no chaos. But the yellow tape told me that was no longer possible. The tape screamed danger, and unknown, and fear, and –
Screw that. This was my home, and I wasn’t going to be chased out of it. I ripped the tape off and unlocked the door, opening it slowly and peering inside.
A faint smell of roses wafted out to me and my stomach clenched. I forced myself to let go of the doorknob and took a step inside, then another, glancing nervously into the little parlor, then the big parlor.
No roses. Taking a deep breath, I stepped firmly into the hallway and dropped my bag on the floor where it didn’t belong. I crept down the hallway to the kitchen. Also empty.
The police cleared everything out. Everything was fine. Except, maybe...
I glanced up at the ceiling. Maybe upstairs. I needed to check, but my feet felt stuck to the old linoleum. I shook my hands out and took another deep breath. I reached over and pulled a steak knife out of the wooden block on the counter. Just in case. Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped taking those self-defense classes Gram signed me up for in high school.
I crept back down the hall and peered up the stairs to the second floor. One step at a time, Lu, I told myself firmly. Just one step at a time.
I lifted one foot, then the other, slowly climbing the steps, gripping the knife handle with sweaty palms. I skipped the fifth step, which always creaked. Once I reached the top I paused and peered around the dimly lit upstairs hall.
See? No problem! I loosened the death-grip on the knife and rolled my shoulders to relieve the tension.
My heebie-jeebie shoulders weren’t twitching.Did that mean I was safe? I walked with firmer steps to my bedroom – empty. Gram’s bedroom next – also empty. I even checked under the bed and in the closet. The guest bedroom, empty. Bathroom, empty.
I exhaled my first full breath since entering the house and sagged with relief. The house was empty.
Mrowr.
I gasped and spun around, thrusting the steak knife in front of me.
The cat! The damned cat.
“Sweet blessed mother of all, Cat!” I hissed at him, clutching my chest with one hand. “You scared the crap out of me.”
Cat sat in the hallway, regarding me silently.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” I told him.
He just watched me. Damn freaky cat.
“C’mon, let’s go find something to eat,” I sighed.
One grilled cheese sandwich and one bowl of disgusting tuna later, I felt better about the cat and the house, but not about the day. I poured myself a glass of wine and settled into the old rocker on our front porch to watch the sun set between the trees on the other side of the road.
My family had spelled me.
I winced at the sharp stab of pain in my head and felt something shift in my brain, another door unlocking that I didn’t even know existed. Memories of my mother slipped through.
She was always dirty, always digging in the garden or digging for bones. She had a loud laugh, the kind of laugh that makes people’s heads turn and then they laugh with you, even if they don’t know what’s funny. She used to sing all the time, healing songs and Beatles songs and silly made-up songs.
I knew all of this, but it had always felt like a TV show I watched as a child, or a character in a book. Now somehow it was real, pressing me down on the porch with the weight of all I had somehow forgotten.
I remembered being comforted by my family. Aunt Katie, singing to me in Irish. Uncle Sean, carrying me to bed and sitting by my side, all night long, more nights than I could count. Gram, lost in her own grief, her hair wild, sobbing when she thought I couldn’t hear her and quickly drying her tears when I came into the room and holding out her arms to me. Making me tea.
But I couldn’t remember crying or even missing my mother. It was like she had been here, and we loved each other, and then she was simply…not here, and life went on.
I cried now.
The sun slid behind the trees across the road and the sky darkened, but I didn’t notice. I rocked in the darkness, rubbing at my chest that suddenly felt so empty because my mother was gone, and I couldn’t remember the sound of her voice. A low throb of betrayal settled into the empty place.
I no longer thought Aunt Katie and Uncle Sean had anything to do with Mom’s death. I knew how much they loved her, loved me. I remembered that. But whatever spell they did took her from me just the same. Because after the shock and the confusion wore off, maybe even before, something changed.
After my mother was gone, there was nothing but a dull, quiet desire to hide, to get away from here as quickly as possible. I had no memories of truly mourning her. I just…went to school. Went to karate lessons. Tried to blend in, be un-noticeable. I stopped studying the craft.
I used to study the craft, I realized, feeling another door unlock in my brain, a soft click of release. I stopped because the craft was dangerous. It had something to do with losing Mom, and after she was gone, if people found out, I was afraid I would lose Gram, too.
Besides, I didn’t have any magic. I could learn the formulae, like one could learn the steps of a dance, and even achieve small magics. Anyone could. But I had no innate power. I was nothing, magically speaking.
So I studied harder in school and made the honor roll. I practiced fencing with Uncle Sean, and defensive spellcasting with Gram and Aunt Kate.
I remembered hearing my elders discussing me at night when they thought I was asleep, worried that I wasn’t having a normal adolescence because I became such a stickler for behaving the right way. Rules meant order and order meant predictability. Safety. If I just did what I was told, everything would be normal.
Except magic wasn’t following the rules. It had erupted out of campus, no longer contained, and invaded my home, spilling roses all over a place that had always been safe.
And my family had spelled me. They stole my grief from me, and apparently a whole lot of memories.
I needed to remember. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Standing from the rocker felt like lifting a thousand pounds, the weight of my sudden memories almost too much to carry. I locked the front behind me, automatically making a warding gesture. The house was dim and quiet except for the faint ticking of Gram’s Waterford clock. I trudged upstairs to the medicine cabinet and fumbled some aspirin into my mouth, fighting back tears from the headache and the echoes of grief and betrayal I was unable to leave completely on the front porch.
I dreamt of bitter tea and chasing my mother through wild, growing things glowing green.
15
Desire What is Denied Us
The next day dawned bright and clear, the way days dawn after a terrible revelation, or a terrible crying jag. I’d had both, I figured, so when the sun shining through the windows woke me, I groaned and pulled the pillow over my face. I didn’t want to get up. I had a terrible weight on my chest.
It was purring.
I peeked out from under my pillow to find Cat’s face about three inches from mine.
“Ugh, tuna breath!” I shoved at him, but he didn’t budge. “Dude,” I told him emphatically. “Your breath stinks. And no offense, but I think we need to talk about your weight.”
He lay there suffocating me and rumbling. It was oddly comforting as I tried not to think of the day before, but Gods! His breath. I groaned and tried to roll over, but I couldn’t heave his weight off me. I glared at him and he stared back, unperturbed that he was crushing me.
Finally, he slid off me and leapt nimbly to the floor. I rolled to a sitting position, grimacing down at my wrinkled clothes.
Yesterday came flooding back and my hands twisted in the bedsheets.
Magic was causing problems on campus, and my Mom was…gone, and my family had spelled me, and…there were roses all over my house, which reminded me of the elevator ride from hell, or to hell, or whatever that had been. My head hurt, and I…
I needed to get to work. I had class today.
Cat’s purring got more insistent. “What?” I asked, my voice scratchy from too much wine and not enough sleep. “Are you hungry? Go catch a mouse.” Stupid cat.
Combat wear today, I decided. Black jeans, a black turtleneck sweater, and the cool boots. Big silver hoops to call the right energy.
Huh, I thought, eying the earrings. I forgot I knew that.
I needed answers, and apparently, I thought the Goth look would get them. I threw on a green blazer to look more professional and less emo and shrugged. At least I looked good, which was nice after crying all over the front porch the night before.
