“Great. Wonderful. Terrific. Just spiffy.” Agitated, I paced the length of the small living room, muttering sarcastic remarks under my breath. I had been here for half an hour already, waiting for my ally, mentor and cousin, Jace. So far, he was a no-show.  It was dangerous enough for me to be here. Jace was a necromancer, and he worked for Douglas Tucker, one of the most vicious “Crime lords” around.  Just being here, I could get spotted and the last thing I wanted was a visit from that lecher.  I wasn’t really worried about that at the moment. No, instead I was worrying about the cousin that’s supposed to take care of me. Then again, Jace was never the responsible type. 

The heavy oak door slammed and I spun to face the intruder, only to be greeted by a guilty smile. I glared at the boyishly handsome twenty year old who was forty minutes late.

“Coz, I hope you have a damned good reason.” His smile widened into a grin, flashing slightly sharp, white teeth. I was tempted to shake my head. With his shoulder-length dark hair, reddish brown eyes (the color of old blood) and pasty skin, he looked like a vampire. Or a refugee from a bad D and D convention.

“Don’t I always?”

“No.” He gave me a hurt look, and I rolled my eyes. “Scroll?” I held out my hand. From under his letterman jacket, he pulled out a piece of rolled up parchment with a flourish. I sighed. “That’s not a scroll.”

“Nope, but it’s got what we need anyhow!”

“And…what do we need?” I inquired cautiously.

“This is the spell of Persephone, a spell to cross worlds…”He paused dramatically, hands flung out as if he were trying Shakespeare. “And bring us a demon familiar.”

“Uh, Jace? Demon familiar? What are you, a necromancer or a Satanist?” He glared at me, stripping off the jacket to fling it on the coat tree. Stomping down the three stairs from the door, he crossed the room to stand in front of me. I craned my neck back to fully glare at him. Lost the effect otherwise.  But then, with my height, it wasn’t as effective as it could be.

“Stop being so ignorant. It’s a figure of speech. It’s not an actual demon. It’s a destructive magical creature from one of the other worlds. Think… a really grumpy dog.  Nice to us, not so nice to everyone else.”

“Okay…” I wasn’t convinced, but I might as well go with it. “And what’s my part in all this?”  I watched a calculating gleam light his eyes, and realized my mistake.

“You are to be the summoner inside the circle, since you’re the female.” Shit.

An hour later, I found myself in the center of a chalk circle. That didn’t quite describe it. Jace had cleared away the furniture, so that everything was against the walls and out of the way. On the hardwood floors, he had drawn a circle around me, roughly six feet in diameter in white chalk. Around that, he had drawn designs that I had never seen. He had specifically done them in pale blue, and they ranged from something similar to hieroglyphics to, for all my knowledge, squiggly lines. Then, for a third and final touch, he placed a red circle on the very outside. I’d say it was nearly nine feet in diameter.

I had my words memorized, mostly because I wanted out of this. Dragging a hand through my way-too-long blond hair, I tossed him a bored look. He was too busy rereading his part to notice.

“Ahem!” He jerked his head up to look at me, and I grinned at his sour look. “It’s nearly midnight. Let’s get this done so I can go to be, alright?” He rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Right away, your high ass.”

“That’s just childish, Jace. Was that the best you could think of?” I was rewarded by a full-fledged glare. But he started walking counter clockwise as I turned the opposite way, and we both started with the strange chant. It was basically four lines, with six syllables, but the words were so foreign that I was clueless to the meaning. Which means I completely trusted Jace with this. That would be my bad.

Our words blended into a melodic rhythm and we ended at the same time. Silence reigned for a moment, before Jace whispered.

“Did it work?” The marks flared to life and I covered my eyes from the burning glow. The ground seemed to cave under my feet and I screamed.

~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~

For those who have never passed out during a ceremony gone wrong, I’ll give you this. It sucks. Sucks, sucks, sucks. Either way, I was suddenly in the living room, only in a house I didn’t recognize. With two people pointing guns at me.

On my right was a smaller woman of about five-foot-three, with shadow dark hair and eyes so dark a brown, for a moment I thought they were black. She was delicately featured, and pale as …well, the dead. Which I found fitting. From the power radiating off her, she was clearly a necromancer. I wondered if she was registered.

The slight sound of someone leaning forward brought my attention to the guy on the couch. The epitome of the Nazi’s Master Race. Well, that was the first idea that popped into my head, mean as it was. Not to say I …forget it. His cropped, pale blonde hair, ice blue eyes and pale peach skin tone is what did it. He was dressed in blue jeans and a white tank top, the opposite of her black skirt and crimson dress shirt. He looked like he had just gotten dressed. She looked like she was just getting home from a date. Yet both of them were pointing handguns at me, in a two handed hold.

I licked my lips, trying to thing of something to say that wouldn’t get me shot. Don’t mind me, no threat, really. Just a summoner. No big.

“Erm, good evening?”

“Who and what are you?” I blinked at the guy, silenced by the empty tone. Sociopath, obviously. Just my luck.  It took me a moment to realize that I was gripping Cheveyo in my right hand. I hadn’t been holding the wooden doll when conducting the spell.

“May I sit up?” He nodded and I eased myself up until I was sitting cross-legged.

“Answer the question.” This guy was scary and I was tempted to jump up and just flee. But, he had the gun. Stupid pieces of metal.

“My name’s Sumner Tyson. I’m a summoner. Registered at McLeod’s School and everything.” My eyes were wide as I focused on his, but I couldn’t help it.

“Edward, put the gun away. She’s just a kid.” Feh. Just a kid? I was 19, thank you very much. However, if them thinking I was a kid would help, so be it.  The guy studied me for a moment longer before putting the gun back in a holster at his back. The woman crossed in front of me, the gun at her side, and offered a hand up.

“How about I get you a coke or something, and you start explaining?” I rose on my own, and gave a small nod. I was only about two inches taller then her, but she had this air about her and I wasn’t about to argue. Besides, it wasn’t really a question.

~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~

I sat at the wooden kitchen table, cradling a cup of coffee between my hands. I normally didn’t drink the stuff, because just a little made my tummy go all funky, but I needed the caffeine, and I hated coke. Personal preference. I could deal with the icky belly, but I’d never get rid of the acidy taste.  The heat was welcome, too. I was sat in the corner chair, with Edward on my left and Anita on the right. We all had coffee. Whee.

Anita, as I learned her name was, was observing Cheveyo curiously. Hell, so was I. The doll was carved from willow, and only about two feet tall. A bit bigger then a Barbie, when you think about it. He was carved to look very human, a bit like a Ken doll. He had leather sandals, the type that wrap around the ankle and lower leg, a woven loincloth that coved him from hips to knees, and a spear. A hawk mask covered his face. All of him was painted in shades of blue, the soft powder blue being dominant. 

“What’s with the toy?” I looked up at Anita, slightly offended.

“He’s not a toy. He’s a kachina.” She gave me a blank look and I explained. “He’s an Hopi spirit doll. Basically, they carve the doll and decorate it, before saying a prayer over it. Then a nature spirit comes to reside in it. Gives it a life of it’s own, so to speak. But they’re usually quiet around strangers.”

“Oh.” I gave her a small smile, for her response. “What kind of spirit is he?”

“A warrior spirit. He is of the kind that keeps evil spirits from doing harm, when he’s not a kachina.” She nodded.

“So, he’s kinda like a familiar?”

“I suppose you could say that.” I ran light fingers over the soft feathers of the mask and felt him pulse slightly. Warmth that had nothing to do with the mundane traveled up my hand. It was his way of being reassuring.  Her gaze fixed on mine. She had felt it, too, from the distance.

“What is a summoner?” I see she was taking things slowly, but if she didn’t know, I wasn’t going to tell her. I simply sat the cup down, placed Cheveyo on my lap, and refused to answer. Edward and Anita exchanged a glance, and he stood.

“I have to get to work. I’ll talk to you later, Anita.” He sat his cup in the sink and walked out. A few moments later, I heard the front door shut quietly. Casting about my senses, I realized he had actually left. The guy was no null. There was something there. He was a minor psychic, the kind that got “feelings” and was incredibly aware of what was going on around him.

Anita was on the phone. Talking quietly but quickly to someone on the other end. I didn’t catch the words but a moment later, she sighed.

“Yeah. We’ll be there in a bit.” She hung up, and turned to face me. I really had to stop zoning out. “We’re going to the Circus of the Damned, so I can talk to Jean-Claude.” I blinked blankly at her. “I’ll explain later,” she muttered, exasperated. I shrugged and stood, following her out the door. She drove a Jeep. Somehow, it figured.

~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~

The Circus was alive and buzzing in the full dark of the night. I cast a glance at Anita.

“What sort of circus is this?”

“Vampire circus.” I grinned at her, to show I got the joke.

“No, really.”

“I’m serious. This is a vampire circus. It’s run by the Master of the City.” I stared at her as she parked.

“There’s no such thing,” I whispered. She arched a brow at me, and gave me a reassuring smile.

“Trust me, kid. You’re not in Kansas any more.” Just my luck. A Wizard of Oz fan.  She climbed out of the vehicle and I followed suit, trailing behind her as she made her way to the gates. She yelled something to the man taking tickets and he waved her through. Taking my hand, she guided me into the circus, and through the crowds, as if afraid I’d get lost. I paused to take in the carnival-y scents and lights, noticing the faint whiff of blood underneath. Scary stuff, I thought. Obviously, I took too long, because she tugged at my hand. Near the edge of the crowd, she released me, and wiped her hand on her skirt as if I were slimy or something. I rubbed my fingers together. My hand wasn’t even sweaty.

“Asher, this is Sumner.” I turned my gaze to see whom she was talking to.

The man was tall. Somewhere just above six foot, he towered over us. I suddenly felt very delicate. Hair like true gold brushed his shoulders and concealed half his face from view. But the other half, the visible half, was something straight from a church ceiling. He was…angelic. Flawless pale skin, sensually full lips, eyes as pale as a winter sky, or an artic wolf’s.  He wore a white dress shirt untucked over khaki dress pants. He caught me looking, and smiled. Something washed over me; it took me a moment to realize it was his power. I was meeting his eyes, and if I looked away, it faded until I could barely feel it. I raised my eyes to his again, and he was frowning. The power grew until I could feel it trace around my instinctive shields, so gently as if to cajole me into letting it in. I clutched Cheveyo to my chest, and took a deep breath, fixing my gaze on the floor. Enough experimenting for this Summoner.

“Ah, ma chere, then this is the young woman I was sent to watch. He is waiting for you in his room.  I shall keep a careful eye on our young friend.” His voice was faintly accented with what I recognized to be French. It was fitting, somehow. The power picked up a bit, as he spoke, trailing over my skin like silk. I shivered, not from fear. I squeezed my eyes shut, reaching out my own power to find something to distract me. A spirit, something.

I felt a hand under my chin and my face was gently lifted as I opened my eyes.  Asher stared down at me, with obvious amusement.

“So, tell me, petite chere, why you are carrying a doll?” I rolled my eyes, and found that I couldn’t move from his grasp. Nope, I tried. It only tightened slightly, as if in warning.

“To beat annoying creeps like you with,” I retorted with more bravery than I felt at the moment. He chuckled again, and let go. Offering his arm, he gave me a mischievous smile.

“Shall we retire downstairs?”

“You’ll just drag me if I refuse, huh?” I took his arm and sighed when he didn’t respond. “Lead the way, Casanova.” He looked about to laugh at me again, the way his eyes were all shiny like that.

Beyond the door, which he said Anita had gone through once I noticed her “poofing” act, were incredibly steep stairs. I don’t think they were meant for humanoid traversing. But at the bottom of that was another door, and then a living room.

The room was draped with white cloth, to create walls and a ceiling. Subtle gold designs were worked into the fabric and it matched the classic French Renaissance-style furniture. The focus seemed to be the pseudo-fireplace and the painting above it. I moved over to the painting, only to be surprised by the three figures. There was a dark haired man, Asher and Tante.

I knew the woman’s name to be Julianna and that she was falsely accused of being a witch, therefore burned by the Church.  She was a gentle woman, with a mischievous streak a mile wide, lovely as they come. Of course, maybe I was biased. Julianna was the first ghost to approach me. She’d always been around, longer then even my kachina, and she’d been my mother figure. She’d be absent for the last couple of weeks. Something about finding a few lost items was all she told me. It bugged me. Cryptic was unusual for her.

Julianna was from a whole different world. She had told me so. If this was really a portrait of her, then-

“They are lovely, non?” I looked over my shoulder to see Asher so close he was nearly touching me. Gulping at his proximity, I nodded.

“W-who is she?” Mentally cursing my weakness, I almost missed his answer.

“She was my human servant, a wonderful woman by the name of Julianna.” I sucked in a breath, only to choke. He led me over to the couch, one hand rubbing my back. “Is something wrong, doux petite colombe?” I managed to breathe and glare at him. Sweet little dove? What was with this guy and endearments? Was he hitting on me?

“Qu'est-il exactement vos intentions?” What exactly are your intentions? I demanded.  His look blanked out into one of polite amusement, as if I were a precocious child.

“Je simplement souhaite découvrir que vous cachez.” I merely wish to find out what you are hiding, was his response.

“Croiriez-vous... rien?” Would you believe… nothing?

“Non.” Somehow, I didn’t think so. “Tell me, where did you learn French so excellently?” I crossed my arms and settled back, ignoring his arm stretched on the back of the couch behind me.

“My aunt taught me,” I told him truthfully. He nodded slowly, seeming thoughtful.

“So this is the girl who appeared from no where?” A slightly softer voice, tinged with laughter, spoke up from behind. His voice, too, was a physical thing, like fur on bare flesh. My heart leaped into my throat before I could figure out why I was frightened.

“JC, stop. You’re going to scare her.” Well, at least Anita was in the room. Maybe she’d shoot him. Somehow, I doubted it.

~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~_~*~

“JC” or, Jean-Claude as he introduced himself, was no less infuriating then Asher. I had to keep my gaze on my hands to resist the temptation to meet his eyes. It was a bad idea. These guys liked to try to enthrall girls, it seemed. Not that they needed to.  I mean, with other worldly beauty, why would they need magic?

“Sumner?” I jerked my head up to meet Anita’s gaze. If her look got any more suspicious, I think she’d jump up and start telling us about commies. Deep breath. “You seem to have the tendency to drift off. “ I gave her a sheepish smile.

“Lotsa thoughts, that’s all.” She didn’t exactly look convinced, but she let it slide. Good, because I didn’t have another answer ready.

“Could you tell me where you are from, Sumner?” I let my gaze blank out, not really looking at anything. I suppose it seemed I was looking at the floor. Why was this Jean-Claude asking all the questions?

Asher was completely still beside me, and every few moments I glanced his way to see if he was still there.

“I could,” I finally said. “But I doubt it’d do you much good.”

“Perhaps you should try.”

“I am from the province of Graecia.” I caught Anita and Jean-Claude exchanging a look. 

“You speak the truth, but there is something you are withholding…” Well, thank you, Sherlock! I nodded and drew in a breath. I wasn’t going to volunteer the information. Anita’s gaze seemed to soften, and she leaned forward. When she spoke, her voice was softer.

“I know this may be hard for you, but we want to help. We can’t do that unless you tell us how you got here. We’ve never heard of Gra…”

“Graecia. I know.” Letting Cheveyo rest on my lap, I rubbed my face with bother hands, and smoothed my hair back. “That’s because it’s… not anywhere near here. Tell me, why didn’t you call the authorities? Unless vampires are the authorities…” This resulted in more of the near physical laughter from the two vampires, as I waited for Anita’s answer. I held her gaze.

“To be honest, I don’t know if they’d necessarily believe me. And, let’s face it, “ she smiled wryly. “Vampires always know more about this shit. I think it’s in the job description.”

“That helps so much,” I told her, dryly.

“Okay, now, what were you doing before you …dropped in on me and Edward?” I rolled my eyes. Enacting an ancient ritual to summon a demon spirit.