Still Not Dead Enough , Book 2 of The Dead Among Us by J. L. Doty Read Free Book Online Page B

walked to the center of the room, opened the tap on the canister of salt, poured a line of it in a circle about three feet in diameter. “As I told you it makes for a great circle. Now, step over the line of salt and into the circle.”
    He did as told. She sat down on the floor just outside the circle, crossed her legs, closed her eyes, and he saw them squint as she concentrated. He also felt the unmistakable sensation of someone drawing power, a perception he’d only recently come to understand. She sat that way for about a minute, then suddenly opened her eyes and blurted out, “Motherfucker.”
    “Motherfucker?” Paul asked her.
    She blushed. “Long story,” she said. But when he raised a sardonic eyebrow she added, “But I can see you’re not going to let me get away without telling it.”
    He didn’t say anything, just grinned and nodded.
    “Ok,” she said. “You see, it’s easiest to initiate certain kinds of spells if you associate a specific and unique word with the moment of setting the spell. It can be any word you choose, but after you’ve done it enough times, a trigger word makes it easier to focus your power.”
    “Motherfucker?” he asked her again.
    Again she blushed. “I was at a rebellious stage, early teens, purposefully doing things to piss-off my father. I thought it was cool to smoke cigarettes and swear a lot, turned a bit Goth, all of which met with lots of disapproval from him, which was exactly what I wanted. Teenage girls can be such nasty little bitches.”
    “Really pushed his buttons, huh?”
    “Every chance I could. Even had my navel pierced, but it got infected, for which I’m actually grateful because it was quite painful, and that made me leery of piercings and tattoos. Thank god I never got any I couldn’t easily hide, but I’ve still got that small scar on my navel. Anyway, that was about the time he taught me circles. My first attempt was a miserable failure, and the power I drew slammed into my hand like a hammer. I ran around the room shaking my hand shouting, ‘Motherfucker, motherfucker, motherfucker.’ I’ve tried to associate other words with setting a circle, and they sort of work, but for me that one word works better than anything else.”
    Paul nodded, grinned, raised that eyebrow again and said knowingly, “Motherfucker.”
    She blushed again and said, “Stop that.”
    “Stop what?” he teased.
    “If you don’t stop that I’ll leave you in that circle all day.” She grinned evilly. “Don’t bump your nose, smart ass, but just try to step out of that circle.”
    Paul reached forward carefully and his hand pressed against an invisible wall above the line of salt. He put both hands against it, tried to push through it, put some serious weight behind it and failed utterly. There was no visual sense that anything occupied the space there, no shimmer in the air, no bending of the light passing through it, as there would be with a pane of glass.
    “Bend down and try to break the circle of salt.”
    He tried, couldn’t touch it.
    “You can set a circle around yourself to protect yourself, keeping everything else out. Or, you can set a circle from without to lock something evil and disgusting in, like I’ve done here.”
    Paul sat down on the floor in the circle facing her. “I’m evil and disgusting?”
    She smiled. “Maybe not evil and disgusting, but definitely low moral standards.”
    He laughed. “My moral standards aren’t low.” He carefully looked into her eyes. “I’m just attracted to beautiful women.” Again she blushed.
    “What about the shape of the circle?” he asked. “Does it have to be perfect?”
    She shook her head. “No, though the farther you deviate from a perfect circle, the weaker it becomes. But you have to deviate quite a bit before you seriously weaken it. One variation, and this only works for demons, is to put the circle inside a pentagram, with the circle touching all interior sides of the pentagram.