Kindling the Moon (Arcadia Bell #1)(3)

Even savages who dismiss most paranormal phenomenon love to entertain the possibility that ghosts exist; too bad they don’t. Sorry to burst your bubble, but if you think your house is haunted, it’s most likely just everyday, run-of-the-mill imps: small transparent demons that humans can’t see. Imps are pretty much harmless, but they’re fond of creating minor havoc. Moaning, turning the lights on and off, lowering the temperature of a room, and this was exactly why imps had made the Earthbounds who produced Paranormal Patrol very, very rich. Sending a group of unsuspecting and gullible humans down in buildings known to be infested with imps? Damn fine TV.

Everyone in Tambuku was enjoying the imp in this week’s episode until the second commercial break; that’s when I heard breaking glass. Amanda’s laughing couple at the hightop was now kissing. Not them, then. My eyes flicked to the table with the dosed Scorpion Bowl, but they were all staring at the booth behind them. Amanda and I had both been wrong.

“Oh, holy Whore of Babylon.” I muted the TV and reached for my caduceus, a carved wooden staff entwined with two snakes and wings at the top. It wasn’t some mystical ceremonial object; it was made in China, like, last year. Despite this, it does have a real graphite core that conducts energy, and that was the important part. The only ritual objects I use are practical ones. Robes and candles and sacred temple spaces? Forget it. Just useless, bullshit trappings.

Caduceus in hand, I abandoned my post behind the bar and strode in the direction of the offenders. But before I could make it there, a low gasp spread through the crowd and everyone in front of me began backing up.

“Move it.” I pushed people out of my way until I made it to the problem table. Broken glass crunched beneath my low-top sneakers as I approached.

There were three Earthbounds at the booth: Kara and her boyfriend, both regulars, and some other guy I didn’t know in a red flannel shirt … whom Kara was choking. Well, not choking so much as freezing the skin around his neck. Beneath her hands, a network of blue lines formed on his skin as she screamed, “Motherf*cking liar!”

“Did you sleep with him, Kara?” her boyfriend asked, sitting at her side. His face was stroke-red. For crying out loud, no ambulances tonight, I thought to myself as the choking victim knocked a ceramic coconut-shaped mug off the table with his flailing arm. It shattered into ragged snow as it hit the floor. The crowd behind me jumped back as an errant ceramic shard ricocheted and pegged me on the arm. It stung like hell.

“Hey!” I yelled, rubbing my injury. “That’s handmade. We’ve only got a few of those mugs left in stock. You’re paying for that.”

Kara’s victim paid no attention to me as two other mugs, the rice cracker bowl, and all the napkins began rising off the table. I’d heard that her boyfriend was telekinetic, and apparently he had a hard time controlling it when he got upset. Awesome.

I double-checked that the bar was still savage free. It was.

“Tell him that I didn’t sleep with you! Tell him!” Kara spoke in a frantic, high-pitched voice as the blue lines erupting on his neck began spreading up into his face.

Enough. I gripped my caduceus and struck the floor in front of the booth, right on the triangle point that was painted on the hardwood. It was a binding triangle. There was one under every table in the bar. Risk management.

Eyes closed, I tapped into electrical energy from the bar, reeling it into me with care and precision. Amanda once asked me how magick like this worked. Different spells called for different kinds of magick, but the energy I needed to power a binding like this had to be amplified, or “kindled.” The easiest way to think of magical energy—Heka—was to picture it as a wood log in a fireplace. Just as wood burns when you put a match to it, Heka transforms into a more intense energy when it’s been kindled by an outside source; electricity was just one of several ways to do that.

As I pulled, the garish tropical-themed lights inside the bar wavered and dimmed. I mumbled a short binding spell and, in one massive push, released the kindled Heka through the caduceus, into the binding triangle.

My stomach lurched like I was riding a roller coaster. Depending on the spell, the accompanying nausea could last for a couple of seconds, or it could make me so sick and exhausted that I’d have trouble standing. Fortunately, this time, it wasn’t bad.

When I reopened my eyes, a low moan rose from the crowd behind me. They were impressed, as usual, but I wasn’t; the binding triangle glowed with kindled Heka, but it wasn’t bright like it should be—it was dull and popped with static. It must’ve been because of my mood. Whatever. It was working, and that was what mattered. The objects crashed back down on the table, rice crackers scattering everywhere, as the three drunken demons in the booth finally looked up.

“Shit.” Kara released the man across the table and dropped her fading blue hands to her side. He fell back into his seat and coughed, reaching for his wounded neck.

“Seriously, Kara, this is the second time this month. I told you last time that if it happened again, I’d ban you from the bar.”

A lock of dyed orange hair fell across her cheek. “I didn’t mean to get so out of control. Give me another chance. I promise—”

“Please unbind us,” her boyfriend pleaded. “It raises my blood pressure and I don’t feel so good right now.”

Amanda pushed her way through the crowd. “Wait! They started a tab. They owe us, hold on.” She fumbled in her pocket, then flipped through several scraps of wrinkled paper until she found the right one. “Sixty-three dollars and forty cents. Oh, and Kara didn’t tip me last week when she came in.” She clicked her tongue at Kara and winked. “Don’t think I didn’t notice.”