Dance Only For Me Page 19

  "You—you can't even use magic! You're nothing but an overblown normal yourself, you thrice-damned—" Jackie broke off with a scream, dropping to the floor and holding his head as thousands of hot needles of pain tore through it and down through the rest of his body. By the time it stopped, he was a panting, sobbing mess on the floor. He spat out blood from where'd bitten his own cheek before wearily dragging himself up enough to sit with his back against the nearest table. "You think the Kings should rule the world, but you can't even use magic yourself."

  Marion shrugged. "One of many problems I will be fixing once everything is fine-tuned. Finn there was my first success. He has been a golem since 1832. My second success was the one you lot have taken to calling Firebrand."

  "What poor bastard got that privilege?"

  Soft laughter filled the room, and Jackie turned to see Firebrand sitting on a table further down the room. He hopped neatly down, stalked toward Jackie, crouched down, and used his thumb to wipe blood from Jackie's bottom lip. Licking it away, Firebrand said, "My name back then was Abigail. I had been married to Marcellus for ten years when he botched that experiment and died."

  "Ol' Marc is in for a bit of surprise if'n he ever wakes up," Jackie drawled.

  "As if I give a damn," Firebrand replied. "The magic and power make this form worth any price. You've seen how unstoppable I am. It's only a matter of time before I pick off the rest of your stupid friends. They'll be here soon, I think."

  Jackie hoped not. "All this jawing and ya'll still ain't bothered to tell me what I have to do with any of this. I just wanted to find out why you killed Robin and keep you from killing anyone else. I'm not sure how that led to an invitation to listen to you yammer all night."

  "I told you, I have untold knowledge of soul magic," Marion said and walked slowly over to a desk in the corner. He unlocked the bottom drawer and pulled something out of it—a wooden box that had been painted black, light reflecting off the gleaming surface. Even from a distance, Jackie could feel the magic on it. "Pick him up."

  Firebrand hauled Jackie to his feet and set him against the table, smacking his cheek before stepping away again. Jackie eyed the box on the table, once more forced to suppress an urge to put a whole lot of distance between it and him. "This," Marion said, "is one of my greatest achievements. One cannot bind a consort to a demon without first finding the consort, but how does one find a consort?"

  "One leaves well enough alone," Jackie said.

  Marion shot him a disappointed look then tapped his cane to the box. It shimmered and turned dull. Flipping the catch, Marion flicked the top open and presented the contents with a flourish. Inside was a dull looking bit of smoky glass set in tarnished silver and attached to an equally tarnished chain. It looked like some old, worn bit of costume jewelry lost and forgotten over the years. "This particular pendant was crafted specifically for Baruel. It's filled with his blood, attuned to his soul."

  "I see," Jackie said. "You hunted the poor bastard down, murdered him, and poor Ned…"

  "Sacrifices must be made in order to advance," Marion said. "But we need Baruel back to finish our work. He is close to perfect, but not quite."

  Jackie couldn't help it—he laughed. "Yeah, I'd imagine that bit about how he can't be bound at all was not in your original notes."

  "Yes, that has certainly caused many of our problems," Marion said. "But there are other matters. Thanks to you, however, I am about to prove a long-held theory and get my demon back."

  "Whatever you say, hoss," Jackie said.

  Marion reached into the box and drew out the pendant. Letting it dangle from his finger, he lifted his cane and lightly touched it. The pendant shimmered, then glowed, and as the glow faded, it hung there looking good as new. Free of the ravages of time, Jackie could see the pendant was actually a vial of blood, though how it had stayed looking fresh he couldn't say.

  As he watched, the pendant began to shimmer again until there was an aura of rainbow light surrounding it, like sunlight hitting crystal and fracturing into a hundred colors. Even as he thought it, Jackie realized the description wasn't his—it was how Ned had described Jackie's energies.

  "See, after Firebrand told me how Baruel showed up to protect you when he's never appeared to protect anyone before… I began to wonder."

  "It seems to me if you did less wondering a lot of people would do more living," Jackie said, grunting with pain when Firebrand jabbed him for that. "Ned didn't come out of hiding 'cause I'm anything special. He came 'cause Pa asked him to look out for me while I hunted you down."

  Marion merely seemed amused. "Whatever the original reason behind his seeking you out, the talisman does not lie. It only reacts when in the presence of Baruel's consort. The last time it sparkled this way, it was with orange and blue light, and that individual was used to free Baruel from his need for a territory. Interesting that the energy signature is not the same, I would have thought the soul would be identical, or at least nearly. But the blood and spirit inside the glass responds to you, so I guess it is not necessarily a specific type of soul that makes a person suited to being a consort. I will have to further explore what the different souls have in common that makes them consort-potential. But no matter, because my most important theory has proven correct. I have always theorized that demons must have several potential consorts. No one has ever been able to prove it because demons, of course, are decisive sorts. They find their consorts, they claim them. I wonder how demons would react if they learned they could have all manner of potential consorts out there and they need not settle for the first one they find."

  Jackie though Marion had a lot to learn about demons, but he didn't particularly feel like getting smacked again. No, he needed to get the hell out of there. Wasn't much he could do with his magic locked down, however, not unless he got something that could break the seal on the collar and cuffs.

  Well, one problem at a time. "So you think that stupid thing is saying I'm Ned's consort? He seemed pretty convinced I'm not, and I'm more inclined to trust him than you." Even if some stupid part of him liked hearing that word applied to him in regards to Ned. Still, if he was a consort, Ned would know it. Whatever knowledge and magic Marion had tripped over, it had nothing to do with consorts.

  "You are, indeed, a potential consort for Baruel. The magic doesn't lie," Marion replied. "That means we can use you to bind him the way I meant to back when he escaped."

  "Like hell," Jackie replied and lunged, snatching up the glass box containing Marcellus' soul. It was hard to hold in his cuffed hands, but it was all the advantage he was gonna get so he held fast even as Firebrand grabbed him round the throat hard enough to bruise.

  At a barked command from Marion let him go again, snarling, eyes burning.

  "That's right," Jackie said. "Mess with me and your precious soul will be gone. Might strange you ain't got a lick of magic laid on this thing. I would think a spell to protect against shattering would be the very least you'd lay on it."

  "Magic is corrupted by the raw soul," Marion replied. "It either breaks down or gets absorbed."

  Well, that explained why Firebrand had grabbed him and not the box—as made of magic as he was, no telling what touching the box would do to him. It was an advantage Jackie was happy to abuse.

  He kept backing up, getting closer and closer to the door, not at all confident in what he was doing but not really having a whole lot of choice in the matter. Reaching the half-open door, he got his foot in and kicked it open the rest of the way. "Ya'll take care now," he said, turning around—then he whipped back and threw the damn box to the floor.

  He heard Marion scream, saw Firebrand move, but all he felt was the ice-cold breeze that cut through him clear to the bone. It felt like he was going to die, a cold so deep it felt hot and then didn't feel like anything at all. There was a rush of emotions: hurt, determination, fear… and finally peace. He felt it as the magic in his collar and cuffs was broken down and carried off as the soul faded away.
/>
  Then there was nothing. Jackie didn't waste any more time hanging around, just turned and bolted as if hell was biting at his heels. He turned down a random hallway, hoping it might provide a way out, or the means to get to a way out, and he wasn't simply running right for a dead end. He ducked into a room at the end of the hall, but left the door open so he was less likely to draw attention to it.

  Jackie looked around, disappointed. He was in an empty bedroom, and it didn't have so much as a damned window. He saw another door and hustled over to what proved to be a bathroom. Giving up any hope of finding a way outside before Firebrand got to him, Jackie moved on to a different plan. He searched the cabinets and nearly cheered aloud when he turned up an old make-up bag, though how something as modern as a plastic make-up bag had wound up in such a time capsule house… well, he probably didn't want to know.

  Yanking it out, Jackie set it on the counter and rifled through the contents. He almost wept with relief when he turned up a bobby pin, grateful his father had made certain there were some things that would never hold him, magic or no magic. When he was free of the damned cuffs, he went back to foraging through the bag. He landed on a tube of lipstick—not his first or even fifth choice for drawing spell circles, but he'd make do. Closing the bathroom door carefully, he knelt on the floor and started drawing. His heart thudded in his chest all the while, every last part of him hurting—head, chest, hands, throat, and after that he just stopped counting.

  He ignored the pain in his burned, blistered palms, pausing only to wipe away blood so it wouldn't mar the circle. When he was done, he looked it all over critically, fervently hoping he was getting everything right the first time because there wouldn't be a second.

  It would have to do. He was going to die if he did nothing. May as well die doing something. Tucking the lipstick in his jeans, he unbuckled the collar still wrapped around his neck and set it carefully in the middle of the spell circle. Taking a deep breath, he let it out slowly, then held his hand over the circle and spoke the activating mark. The fresh burn scar on his chest tingled as it was bound to the magic, the best he had available for an anchor, and with what he was planning he was definitely going to need an anchor.

  He was as ready as he was ever gonna get. Hopefully his crazy ass plan worked. Opening the door, he closed it again, just loudly enough somebody with supernatural senses would notice. Backing up, he climbed into the bathtub so he was well out of the way. Silence stretched on, growing increasingly taut until Jackie felt stretched so thin he wanted to scream—

  And then he felt a prickle along the back of his neck, heard footsteps mostly muffled by carpet. The bathroom door slammed open even as it caught on fire—

  Magic shot through him as Firebrand walked into his spell cage and the binding Jackie had laid fell into place, appointing him master by way of the collar suddenly wrapped tight around Firebrand's neck. Firebrand reached up to yank it off, snarling in fury when he couldn't. He looked at Jackie, eyes blazing a brilliant red-orange—but his magic wouldn't work, because Firebrand was unable to bring harm to his new master.

  "Ned told me once you weren't immune to binding," Jackie said. "Didn't expect an old collar and lipstick to do the trick, but I ain't gonna complain. Get out of my way."

  All but vibrating with rage, eyes red as hot coals, Firebrand backed away out of the bathroom and off to the side so Jackie had plenty of room to pass. Jackie reached up to touch the five-pointed star forever burned into his skin as it rippled with magic, settling into place as the anchor that bound Firebrand to him until Jackie set him free or was killed.

  He was sorely tempted to take Firebrand with him, but he wasn't certain he trusted his own hasty spellwork enough to risk it. The last thing he needed was Marion figuring out how to break or twist it right in the middle of a fight. Firebrand had been removed as a threat—that would have to do. "Stay here until I tell you to do otherwise."

  Jackie could practically feel the hate trying to burn a hole in his back as he walked away. He closed the door behind him and headed back toward the workroom where he'd left Marion. Shoving the door open, he stepped inside—

  And immediately was grabbed and thrown, slamming onto one of the chalk tables and promptly tumbling off it, landing wrong on his left wrist. Jackie swore as it bent in a way it definitely shouldn't. He tried to stand, gripping the edge of the table with his right hand. He screamed when something heavy slammed down on his fingers and fell back to the floor, fingers of his right hand throbbing, left wrist aching.

  Before he could get to his feet again, Finn kicked him in first in the gut and then the ribs. Jackie swore he could hear the crunch of them breaking. He tried to roll away, curling up to protect himself against the worst of the blows. He just needed to find a moment to breathe, but the hits kept coming. He couldn't get his bearings long enough to call for any sort of help, and the binding on Firebrand wasn't strong enough for him to just know.

  "Get him up," Marion said coldly.

  Jackie sucked in a breath as Finn yanked him up, every bruise and fracture and cut flaring white-hot. He couldn't even sort out what hurt most anymore. Blood, tears, and sweat blurred his vision, but he couldn't raise either of his arms well enough to wipe any of it away.

  "Put him over there and then go find Firebrand. He should have already taken care of this problem."

  Finn shove Jackie into a hard wooden chair and then headed for the door, footsteps snapping sharply against the tile. The sound of the door slamming followed shortly thereafter. Jackie tried to shake his head, desperate to get his vision back, but had no luck. He saw Marion's shadowy, blurry form looming over him and tensed for more pain. "You Blacks have a reputation for being difficult. I remember hearing stories about your grandfather when I was a boy, and your father has certainly never endeared himself to me."

  "My mama was twice as tough as any of us," Jackie said. "Half the tricks I know came from her. Pa taught me to fight fair; Mama taught me how to cheat."

  "And yet she's dead, this tough woman you speak of."

  "Magic can't fix everything." Jackie braced himself against the pain he knew was gonna come when he moved. "Take you, for instance. Ain't no way to fix a heart as withered and blackened as yours."

  Marion gave a condescending laugh. "Am I supposed to feel reprimanded?"

  "I'd be impressed if you felt anything at all," Jackie replied. They both stopped when the door opened, Jackie's burn prickling with awareness as Firebrand drew close. "I see you found my new servant."

  Marion hissed as he realized what Jackie had done. "How in the hell—" His fingers wrapped around Jackie's throat, squeezed so tightly Jackie couldn't breathe. "How?" Marion screamed in his face.

  When his grip loosened enough that Jackie could breathe, he replied, "I told you, hoss. I don't know soul magic. My skills lie with warding and binding." He started to tell Firebrand to kill Finn, but Marion's fingers squeezed tight again. He was slammed against a wall, and after that, he just couldn't take it anymore. Jackie let the dark have him.

  Part 10: Bless the Broken Road

  Jackie's eyes cracked open as the sound of his name penetrated. He groaned and stared up into Wyatt's face, concerned by the bruises and blood marring it. "Yo—" He broke off with a hoarse cough, whimpering at the pain that tore through him with even that slight movement.

  "Shh," Wyatt said. "You're beat to hell, Sheriff. Hold tight and I'll fix you up best I can." Jackie tried to ask about what was going on, but Wyatt pressed a fingertip to his nose. "Stop trying to talk, dumbass."

  Conceding defeat, Jackie let his eyes fall shut again.

  Something seemed different when he woke a second time. It took him a minute to realize he didn't hurt as bad. A few more minutes of staring dazedly at the ceiling and he realized he was staring at his ceiling. Damn. Cavalry had arrived, and he'd slept right through it. Figured.

  He tried to sit up and only then realized there was something heavy draped across him. He levered up just enough to see
a dark, muscular arm curled around his belly and turned his head to see Ned fast asleep beside him. Warmth and relief flooded through him to see Ned safe and sound. Settling back down, Jackie moved a hand to rest on top of Ned's, enjoying the already-familiar, smooth-rough feel of his scars.

  'Course that thought led him straight to the reason the scars were there and all that Ned had endured because of them. Anger rose up, but he tamped it down. Wasn't much point in being angry when the man responsible was probably dead. He couldn't imagine they'd left Marion alive. Jackie let go of Ned's hand to reach up and touch the scar on his chest, the star that would be burned in forever. Magic still throbbed and pulsed there, which meant Firebrand was alive.

  What the hell was he supposed to do with an evil bastard like that? It was only a matter of time before Firebrand slipped his leash and murdered them all in their sleep. Jackie lifted Ned's arm up and moved it aside, carefully rolling away, wincing when his body protested. It was clear he'd been healed, but as extensive as the damage must have been, it would take a few days for the aches and pains to ease off.

  Beat to hell by a golem. Pa was never going to let him live that down. Jackie sighed and managed to sit up, but standing suddenly seemed not much worth the effort. He looked at the bathroom door, which was only a few steps away but seemed more like miles.

  He felt movement on the bed, a shift of weight, and half-turned his head just as Ned pressed a soft kiss to his shoulder. Jackie moaned at all the heat pressed right up against him, countering the chill in the room. "Morning."

  "You should still be resting," Ned said, tugging him back down, laying him out, and stretching along his right side. "Wyatt did an excellent job of healing you, but you still need to rest."

  Jackie leaned into him a bit, eager for more of that blessed warmth. "I'd rather you tell me what all happened since I passed out before the party was over."

  "Good news is we killed Finn, and there's nothing left of Marion's house," Ned said. "The annoying news is that you're still bound to that flame-eyed bastard partner of his."