Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Constance?” Lee backed up. “Then it’s true? You really . . .” Words faltering, he looked at Trent.

            “Turned her into a mouse,” Trent said, clearly proud of me. I wasn’t surprised Lee knew. Everyone did.

            “Damn,” Lee whispered as he reached for the door, only to let his hand fall. “If an undead doesn’t trigger it, it’s probably aura based. Complex.”

            “That’s what I thought,” I said, pressing close. “I tried pushing my aura off my hand, but that didn’t work.”

            “Just forget it,” Trent said. “You came over to help put in a ward, not take one down.”

            “He won’t do anything dangerous,” I said to egg Lee on, and the man predictably frowned. Lee had gotten me into so much trouble at camp, but I’d given as good as I got, and seeing Lee fail here would make my day.

            As if knowing it, Lee’s focus broke and he jerked his hand from the door as if stung.

            “Okay. We’re done,” Trent said as Lee shook his hand as if to get rid of tingles.

            “I can at least show it to you,” Lee muttered. “I need a dandelion gone to seed or a flower with lots of pollen. And salt water.”

            “The late dandelions are closed for the night,” Jenks said. “How about pixy dust?”

            Lee’s thin eyebrows rose. “The spell needs to adhere to something light and dispersible, so yes, that should work. Sure.”

            “How much salt water?” I asked as I walked backward toward the kitchen. “Standard concentration? Does it need to be in anything special? Walnut bowl or copper?”

            A wide smile blossomed on Lee’s usually placid face. “Damn, I love working with professionals. Do you have anything clear? It doesn’t need to be big. Hold about a cup.”

            I paused, half in the kitchen. “I’ve got a translucent marble crucible or a Srandford bowl.”

            “You have a Srandford?” Lee said, and I nodded, feeling sassy as I went into the kitchen.

            “Yes, I have a Srandford,” I mused aloud as I found it at the back of a cupboard. It was only the third time I’d needed to use the usually expensive, meticulously crafted bowl. I had bought it last year at a yard sale for a quarter, but I was sure that’s what it was; no one would dare make a knockoff, and the double-ax and raven stamp on the bottom was distinctive.

            My bag had a couple of vials of salt water, and I grabbed them before I returned to the hall to find Trent and Lee still standing before the door, their conversation becoming suspiciously silent as my silhouette eclipsed the light from the kitchen. “You need a counter?” I prompted, and Lee shook his head, rolling his shoulders as if preparing to do the spell right there.

            “Trent can hold the bowl,” Lee said as I came forward. “It doesn’t get that hot. Wow, I haven’t seen a Srandford since college,” he added as he took it, flipping it over to see the raven and double-ax emblem and the date of manufacture. “Nineteen sixty-five? That’s pre-Turn.”

            “Yup.” Smirking, I popped the tops of the two vials and poured them in.

            Lee hesitated until Trent cleared his throat, goading him. “Ah, usually the dandelion is dunked in the salt water, so, Jenks, would you?” He held out the bowl, and Jenks flew closer.

            “Standard dust okay?” the pixy asked, and when Lee shrugged, Jenks sneezed, sifting a veritable haze of silver sparkles into the bowl. For an instant it sheened atop the water, and then it broke the viscous layer, pooling at the bottom to look like trapped air.

            “Cool,” I said, and Lee grinned, clearly pleased when Trent inched closer.

            “The dust has been cleansed,” Lee said, and Jenks glowered, wings rasping as he darted away muttering about Tink and daisies.

            “I didn’t know you could cleanse pixy dust,” I said, and then I stifled a shudder as I felt Lee reach a thought to my ley line and pull in the energy until my aura prickled.

            “Adsimulo calefacio,” Lee said, and I jumped at the massive draw on the line, my eyes going to Trent’s as the water in the Srandford bowl began to steam, the rising mist carrying the pixy dust with it. It was a singularly beautiful sight, but what bothered me was that that was a demon’s curse, and my breath caught in suspicion.