Spirit and Dust - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,16

props.”

Lauren raised a thin brow. “But I know the value of a sense of ceremony.” She grabbed my hand and put it in Maguire’s waiting one.

The moment we touched, I felt the weight of the remnants that clung to him. Shreds of lives he’d ruined or taken. Frayed tatters of crimson rage and purple grief and black mourning. They hung from him like the chains on Marley’s Ghost, except Maguire didn’t seem to regret his, or even acknowledge their existence. I felt them, though, like a stone on my chest.

All that haunting pressure didn’t even include the brightness that had staggered me when I’d come in. That was not attached to Maguire. It was anchored to something else, but it was focused on him. And, I realized with a start, on Carson as well.

A remnant? It had to be, or I wouldn’t sense it. Too strong to be just one, yet too uniform in texture not to be the same psychic substance. I had never felt anything like it, and curiosity pulled me further into my other Sight. I wondered what on earth that fierce glow could be.

Maguire’s fingers tightened painfully on mine, snapping the thread of my question, yanking me back to the physical world and my current problem.

Lauren wrapped the cord around our linked hands, and I understood what she’d meant by “a sense of ceremony.” Symbols had power. The smooth scarlet against my skin elevated the very simple spell from kid stuff to something resonant and far-reaching.

I’d never felt magic at work before, but I was sure I felt it then—Lauren’s intent, racing along the points of our triangle.

“Your promise,” said Maguire, straightening his coat with his free hand.

I grit my teeth, still fighting coercion. “I promise to do everything in my power—”

“Not good enough,” said Maguire, almost carelessly, though I wasn’t fooled. “You’re a Texan. Where’s that ‘Remember the Alamo’ spirit?”

“Yeah, that didn’t work out so well for them.”

“Then you’ll have to do better.”

Impasse. I could not clever my way out of this situation.

When I went too long without speaking, Maguire sighed, then grabbed my chin in his free hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Repeat after me, Daisy Goodnight,” he said, letting me glimpse beneath his veneer of civility. “Because the lives of the people you love best are at stake.”

My eyes stung, but crying would help no one, so I shoved the tears down, hard. Carson’s fingers tightened on my shoulders, and he was tense with some inner struggle of his own.

“Now,” said Maguire, “I, Daisy Goodnight, will follow the trail of Alexis Meredith Maguire and find her without delay.”

“I promise,” I said, feeling the geas start to take hold. The vow had to be spoken only once, then agreed to. “I promise. I promise.”

With the third oath, the slipknot of the spell drew tight. It was a yoke on my psyche and a hot pavement under my feet, and it would press at me until I did what I had sworn.

The thing that happened next, I couldn’t explain. A buzzing, like the hum of feedback from a loudspeaker, filled my skull, pushing out everything else. It crackled like static and lit my nerves—and then Lauren slipped the cord from our hands and the psychic sound vanished, leaving only clear, crisp fury.

“If you touch any of my family …” I spat the words at Maguire, still clasping his hand, and I was just full of intent. “If you even go near them, I swear I will find a way to curse you all the way to the Veil and push you through. I promise this. I pro—”

Carson clapped a hand over my mouth before I could complete the vow. Now I struggled, and he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me up against him with my elbows tucked against me and my legs unable to do anything but flail uselessly.

Maguire waved the three of us toward the door. “Get on with it. Tell me when you know something.”

“Yes, sir,” said Carson, then grunted as my foot found his shin. He adjusted his grip, tucked me under his arm, and marched to the office door.

7

“ASSHOLE,” I GROWLED as soon as we were out of the office. Lauren trailed after us, making choked sounds that I realized were laughter.

“I told you not to antagonize him,” said Carson, setting me onto my feet and slamming the door behind us.

“I wasn’t talking about him,” I snapped, and made sure my clothes were covering all the parts