Summoning the Night Read Free Page B

elevator car. We watched in disbelief as he raced his own heartbeat up the parking garage ramp toward the next level. As he barreled around the corner, a large blue minivansped down the ramp and slammed on squealing brakes when Methbrain ran out in front of it. The disconcerting thump of metal on flesh echoed through the garage. Then the man’s body jerked and he crumpled on top of the minivan’s hood.
    Jupe gasped.
    The doors to the elevator closed.
    Unable to hold the Heka any longer, I shoved a shaking hand into my inner jacket pocket until my fingers wrapped around a pencil. I pushed Jupe away forcefully, then thrust the pencil into the concrete wall, releasing a substantial volt of charged Heka through the small graphite point. The wooden caduceus staves I normally used for magical work contained fat graphite cores that allow smooth releases of kindled energy. This puny pencil? Not so much. It immediately overloaded and shattered, wedging a yellow wooden splinter into my skin.
    â€œShit!” I stuck my injured finger in my mouth as a wave of post-magick nausea hit me and I swayed on my feet. The sound of car doors opening drew my attention to the minivan. Three people were running to help the meth head—but he popped up from the hood like an unkillable video game character, briefly shook himself, and tore off, further up the ramp and out of sight.
    Jupe’s eyes were two brilliant circles of leafy green surrounded by white moons. “You okay?” I asked, putting my hands all over him like an overanxious soccer mom. Panicked thoughts of his needing another cast ran through my head.
    â€œWhoa . . .” He was just shaken, but otherwise fine. His eyes darted between me and the minivan. “We almost got mugged.”
    â€œOh, God, Jupe. I’m so sorry.” I wrapped my arms around him. A dark laugh vibrated his shoulders. I released him to study his face. He wasn’t smiling.
    â€œDo you believe me now?” he said. “I did that, Cady. Like I convinced the manager at the credit union.”
    â€œJupe—”
    He shook his head, dismissing my lack of belief, then said firmly, “I just made that mugger believe the cops were coming.”

The bottom fell out of heavy clouds during our half-block trek to the bar. As rain poured from a dark sky, we dashed down the sidewalk with the bags of bruised fruit, darting through umbrella-carrying crowds. All I could think about was getting Jupe the hell out of that garage, dropping off the bar supplies, then hightailing it back to my house without anything else happening.
    I’m not the only magician in town, so there’s likely plenty of warded places scattered throughout the Morella and La Sirena area, but only three that I trust: my house, Lon’s house, and my bar, Tambuku Tiki Lounge, where neither supernatural attacker nor crazy, meth-addled human mugger could get inside without setting off several protective spells. Safe as milk, especially when it was closed.
    A short length of steps flanked by waist-high tiki statues led us down to the door of the underground bar. The neon signs were off. It was around noon, and even though we didn’t open until two on weekends, my business partner, Kar Yee, usually came in early to work on the previous night’s receipts in the back office. I pounded on the locked door and peered through iron bars into the stained glass. Its red hibiscusdesign obscured the view when the inside lights were off, so I couldn’t see much. Maybe she wasn’t there after all. Cold, pooling rain dripped from the thatched awning above the entrance. Jupe huddled next to me as I fumbled with my keys and got the door open.
    â€œYour sign says ‘No One Under 21 Allowed,’” Jupe noted with a devious smile.
    â€œIf anyone asks, you’re on official delivery business.” I pushed him inside and locked the door behind us. The motion-sensor toucan that Kar Yee had recently