Read Online The Curse Servant (The Dark Choir Book 2) by J.P. Sloan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: J.P. Sloan
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I wondered if Leibnitz was clean any longer.
When I returned to my house, I went straight to work. I had ideas of how to deal with the target, Jacobs. It had been a long time since I had a hex I could spin which didn’t involve lovers, sex, or children. I had a particularly tangled hex already spelled out in my head that involved sleep deprivation and impotence. Two effects on one hex would require a strong linkage.
As I opened the plastic bag, I realized I had all the linkage I needed. A bloodied cotton handkerchief fell from the bag and onto my table. I paused for a moment, recognizing the look of terror filling Leibnitz’s eyeballs. What had he done?
There was probably no way to ever really know. It would be unprofessional to ask. I never had before. I just couldn’t imagine a mouse like Ari Leibnitz drawing blood from a man. Not on purpose, at any rate.
I grabbed a pair of yellow rubber cleaning gloves from the trunk under my worktable, and scooped the handkerchief into my tiny iron cauldron. It was technically a novelty iron pot I purchased at one of those interstate restaurant gift shops filled with what everyone pretends is genuine old timey crap. I had been using a stainless steel fondue pot for a while, but cast iron packs so much more wallop. I doused the handkerchief with a solution of distilled water, iron shavings, and some dried Chinese wolfberries to tone the blood energy. I let that sit to render while I scraped a fresh parchment and prepared some ink.
Spreading the parchment flat out on the worktable, I found the center of the leaf and began plotting the points for a spiral of golden rectangles with Emil’s old calipers. I double-checked the ratios and put quill ink to parchment, scribing the sacred geometry. Then, with my mainline of chakras in the correct balance, I began the scripture. For this hex I chose Ionic Greek, notorious for its efficacy in sex magic. Endowing each sigil and word with intent and fate-twisting energy, I spiraled the text of the hex. Its effects, its purpose, its condition for termination. In this case, I made two conditions to balance the two effects. The hex would lift if Jacobs made a public confession of wrongdoing, or if he was otherwise removed from his ill-gained privilege. Until that time, the bed would be a place of frustration and failure for him, in regards both to sleep and sex.
As the ink dried, I removed the handkerchief from the cauldron and set it over a cup of sterno to heat. The tonic steamed as the blood congealed. When the linkage achieved the correct consistency, I fished out my athame from the tool box and dipped it into the cauldron. I traced the Sigil of Sabi’un in Jacobs’ blood over the hex and folded it neatly into a golden rectangle before burning it with the sterno flame.
The hex was cast.
I had barely cleaned up and bleached my equipment before my phone rang. It was Julian.
“You’re back?”
“I only have a few minutes.”
“Where can you meet?”
“Better meet me here. Out front.”
“Where’s here?”
“City Hall.”
Fuck me. “Alright. I’m ten minutes away.”
I had to take the Audi into the city, and parked in the fire lane across the street from City Hall. I had a feeling Julian could fix that ticket if a zealous flatfoot decided to drop the axe on me.
I waited by the front steps, Rawls’ envelope of photos tucked under my arm. Julian finally emerged from the building, stepping quickly.
“Are those the photos?” he asked in a low voice before I was quite able to hear it.
“Yeah. Someone inside The Sun dropped these off for us yesterday. Thought he had an exclusive on these pics, but he was wrong.”
“Who else has these?”
“Charm City Spectator.”
Julian winced, then nodded. “Okay, I can work with this. Mancuso isn’t a strong witness, and she has some history.”
“Julian?”
“Hmm?”
“She shouldn’t suffer because of us.”
He blinked twice and squinted. “I don’t intend to do her
When I returned to my house, I went straight to work. I had ideas of how to deal with the target, Jacobs. It had been a long time since I had a hex I could spin which didn’t involve lovers, sex, or children. I had a particularly tangled hex already spelled out in my head that involved sleep deprivation and impotence. Two effects on one hex would require a strong linkage.
As I opened the plastic bag, I realized I had all the linkage I needed. A bloodied cotton handkerchief fell from the bag and onto my table. I paused for a moment, recognizing the look of terror filling Leibnitz’s eyeballs. What had he done?
There was probably no way to ever really know. It would be unprofessional to ask. I never had before. I just couldn’t imagine a mouse like Ari Leibnitz drawing blood from a man. Not on purpose, at any rate.
I grabbed a pair of yellow rubber cleaning gloves from the trunk under my worktable, and scooped the handkerchief into my tiny iron cauldron. It was technically a novelty iron pot I purchased at one of those interstate restaurant gift shops filled with what everyone pretends is genuine old timey crap. I had been using a stainless steel fondue pot for a while, but cast iron packs so much more wallop. I doused the handkerchief with a solution of distilled water, iron shavings, and some dried Chinese wolfberries to tone the blood energy. I let that sit to render while I scraped a fresh parchment and prepared some ink.
Spreading the parchment flat out on the worktable, I found the center of the leaf and began plotting the points for a spiral of golden rectangles with Emil’s old calipers. I double-checked the ratios and put quill ink to parchment, scribing the sacred geometry. Then, with my mainline of chakras in the correct balance, I began the scripture. For this hex I chose Ionic Greek, notorious for its efficacy in sex magic. Endowing each sigil and word with intent and fate-twisting energy, I spiraled the text of the hex. Its effects, its purpose, its condition for termination. In this case, I made two conditions to balance the two effects. The hex would lift if Jacobs made a public confession of wrongdoing, or if he was otherwise removed from his ill-gained privilege. Until that time, the bed would be a place of frustration and failure for him, in regards both to sleep and sex.
As the ink dried, I removed the handkerchief from the cauldron and set it over a cup of sterno to heat. The tonic steamed as the blood congealed. When the linkage achieved the correct consistency, I fished out my athame from the tool box and dipped it into the cauldron. I traced the Sigil of Sabi’un in Jacobs’ blood over the hex and folded it neatly into a golden rectangle before burning it with the sterno flame.
The hex was cast.
I had barely cleaned up and bleached my equipment before my phone rang. It was Julian.
“You’re back?”
“I only have a few minutes.”
“Where can you meet?”
“Better meet me here. Out front.”
“Where’s here?”
“City Hall.”
Fuck me. “Alright. I’m ten minutes away.”
I had to take the Audi into the city, and parked in the fire lane across the street from City Hall. I had a feeling Julian could fix that ticket if a zealous flatfoot decided to drop the axe on me.
I waited by the front steps, Rawls’ envelope of photos tucked under my arm. Julian finally emerged from the building, stepping quickly.
“Are those the photos?” he asked in a low voice before I was quite able to hear it.
“Yeah. Someone inside The Sun dropped these off for us yesterday. Thought he had an exclusive on these pics, but he was wrong.”
“Who else has these?”
“Charm City Spectator.”
Julian winced, then nodded. “Okay, I can work with this. Mancuso isn’t a strong witness, and she has some history.”
“Julian?”
“Hmm?”
“She shouldn’t suffer because of us.”
He blinked twice and squinted. “I don’t intend to do her
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