Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(13)

“Don’t break that bowl,” I said, and then settled down inside my circle. If I was going to have any shot at casting a spel that would alert me to glamour, I’d need to be focused

—and not on the ghost haunting my apartment.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the raw magic stored in the obsidian ring I wore. I channeled it into the dormant in the obsidian ring I wore. I channeled it into the dormant circle, and the magical barrier sprang to life, pulsing with blue energy. Circle cast, I cleared my mind and let my consciousness sink deep inside until I reached the trancelike state I’d been taught to strive for while in academy.

I hit that place of perfect nothingness, perfect peace.

Then the world exploded in a rainbow of colors.

Aetheric energy twisted around me in writhing swirls of light, but there was no land of the dead mixed in, no mortal realm. I’d reached the Aetheric plane the way a witch was meant to: my psyche, and only my psyche, projected into the magical plane. I could stil feel my body sitting inside my circle, but it was a distant sensation—more a minor irritation, like a buzzing fly, than a solid connection.

In the Aetheric plane I wasn’t restrained by the rules of a body. I could float. I could fly. I laughed with the freedom of it, the sound turning to bright blue notes. Magic swirled around me, and I was a part of that magic. I felt invulnerable, limitless. And that was the dangerous part.

It would be so easy to forget I needed the tether to my body. To forget that I wasn’t just magic and energy like everything else in the Aetheric plane. To forget that I had a limit. So after I danced along a stream of vibrant green magic, years of training forced me to pul back and recenter myself.

I adjusted my perspective and did something that was possible only in the Aetheric plane: I moved outside myself and examined my projected self from the outside. The deep fissures where a soul-sucking spel had damaged my very being stil cut through my astral body, but the wounds were clear, showing no signs of taint or dark magic. They also showed no sign of healing.

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.