Demons of Good and Evil by Kim Harrison

            “Where did you learn that?” I accused, and then warmed when Lee glared at me. “Never mind.” My gaze dropped. Yeah. I had convinced Al to take Lee as a familiar instead of me, and the demon had used him, teaching him a few things in the process. Who was I to talk? “Sorry,” I added, and Lee seemed to settle himself in an affronted huff.

            “Obscurum per obscurius,” Lee intoned, and the sparkling mist rising from the bowl took on a haze of purple-tinted ley line energy, colored by his aura. Exhaling, Lee blew it at the door.

            “That is amazing,” Trent said as the haze condensed upon hitting the ward, spreading out into first one, then a slightly deeper second band, and finally a third hovering a breath above the door. It wasn’t one ward, but three, each one delineated by a slightly thicker band of pixy dust.

            “Huh.” Trent’s pale eyebrows were high. “He made a tri-ward. Three interwoven layers.”

            “Yep.” Lee took the bowl from Trent and set it at the door’s threshold, where it continued to steam, replacing the pixy glow as it faded. “I’m going to guess the first is to detect, the second to respond, and that final one is to excite or amplify the middle layer until it’s lethal. You probably only triggered the outer two or you wouldn’t have survived.”

            “Sure,” I said breathily, reminded how dangerous a mistake could be.

            “Can you break it?” Jenks asked. “I can’t rent out a room no one can get into.”

            “Maybe.” Careful to keep clear of the wards, Lee took off his coat and handed it to me. The thing weighed a ton, making me think he must have added a spell-resistant liner. It smelled like wool, and I brought it to my nose, breathing deeply.

            “I’ll hold it,” Trent muttered as he took it from me, and Lee smirked.

            “Wards are simply two-dimensional circles,” Lee said as he studied the door with its three hazed bands. “Designed to let some things through and block others. If your vampiric mouse, who lacks a natural aura, is passing with impunity, then the first ward is probably keyed to blocking everything but the owner’s aura. You’re not getting through this.”

            Trent’s breath slipped from him in a silent sigh. I, though, wasn’t so pleased. “Well, crap on my toast and call it breakfast,” I said as Jenks’s wings rasped for attention.

            “What about Bis?” Jenks said, and Lee’s expression went empty. “He knows Hodin’s aura. He can coach you on shifting your aura to Hodin’s. That’s what you do to go in and out of a ley line, isn’t it?”

            “Hot damn!” I said, eager again. “He’s right. What do you think, Lee? An aura is a lot less complex than a ley line, and Bis can do that standing on his head. If the trigger is aura based, there has to be some built-in flexibility. Everyone’s aura changes from day to day, year to year. It would have to be attuned to, say, the first two or three outer shells only.”

            “I thought gargoyles could only teach the people they bonded to,” Lee said, confused.

            “To line jump, sure. This is way less complex.” I took a deep breath, then shouted, “Bis!”

            “Here he comes,” Jenks said, making a dive for my shoulder.

            “Mmmm, Rachel?” Trent inched past Lee. “Have you considered the possible outcomes here? That ward is potentially lethal.”

            Trent’s brow was furrowed in worry, but I barely had time to give his hand a squeeze of confidence before the light from the sanctuary was eclipsed and Bis barreled into the hall, his leathery wings brushing the walls in a soft, eerie hush.

            “Sweet mother of God,” Lee swore softly, ducking as the small, cat-size gargoyle neatly back winged to land on my shoulder, his long, lionlike tail curving across my shoulders and under my arm for balance. “You got big.”

            “Hi, Mr. Saladan,” the kid said, red eyes sparkling in fun as Lee rose from his crouch.

            “I thought you lost the ability—” Lee started, desisting when Trent cleared his throat.

            “Bis, you remember Lee,” I said, reaching to touch Bis’s toes clamped upon my shoulder when the sensitive kid drooped his ears. That Bis and I had lost our connection hurt both of us, but Bis took it personally, and I didn’t like that Lee had brought it up. “We went to camp together. Trent and I left him in a well once for three days because he’s a rich, entitled—”