Chapter 12

Laurel had a bounce in her step and a smile on her face everywhere she went for the next few days. She and Ashton continued to fuck. First it was doggy-style, with him coming on her ass. Then reverse-cowgirl, painting her whole back. She got him all the way with her mouth in the boathouse and took it in the face. Another time she blew him on her bed silently while Chelle was in the room on the phone with her mother.

Her laptop hard drive filled up with pictures, notes, diagrams, and scanned pages from Jennifer’s library. She engaged with Jennifer’s friends to work through some of the problems in her way, and spent considerable time in the library learning about all forms of divination.

She even continued her summoning practice, growing bold enough to forgo many of the traditional layers of protection. She would summon a hellhound, subjugate it, lead it through an obstacle course or take it on a walk through the woods, and then banish it when she felt like doing something else. Confidence, she realized, was a key part of dominating demons. That’s what she had been missing a half year before when she failed to control the incubus Hector.

Once, when strolling with a hellhound, the demon dog alerted her to a scent. Laurel bid it to lead and she followed it three-fourths of a mile to a clearing. There was a small John Deere backhoe loader there, an easel with paper and markers, and various arcane tools. The grass was stained with blood. Several trenches had been dug and refilled, a foot and a half wide and a number of feet long: mass graves for squirrels or medium sized birds, maybe. There were two larger holes, filled in, each the right size for a lamb or dog. A third hole that same size was empty, waiting.

As the smell of death invaded Laurel’s nose she struggled with rage, frustration and sorrow. She banished the hound immediately, fearing what subconscious cues it might read from her if Summer showed up just then. She ran back to the house and took a shower.

Laurel waited in her pajamas in the library, casually browsing the Internet. She had just about gone to bed when Chelle and Ashton asked for some private time in her bedroom. That seemed fair: Chelle was nice enough to share her boyfriend, but it made sense that they’d want time alone, too.

Michael showed up in the library’s doorway. He was shirtless and wearing sweatpants. Laurel could make out some of the contours of his package. He looked like an underwear model: youthful, masculine, happy.

“Hey Laurel,” he said with a bit more familiarity than usual. “Is it true that you know a spell that can give a guy a ‘recharge’? You know, sex magic?”

Laurel’s heart skipped a beat. Her nipples stiffened. Michael was Ashton’s roommate. If Ashton was in Laurel and Chelle’s room, then Michael’s room was empty. Was it possible that Ashton had talked her up, and now Michael wanted to give her a try?

“Um, yeah, I can do that,” she said. She stood up and combed her hair with her fingers.

“Thanks, Laur,” he said with a smouldering look.

Matisse appeared behind him, clinging to him like a snake climbing a tree. “Yeah, thanks, Laurel,” she said. She seemed sincere.

“Oh, no problem,” Laurel answered, trying to hide her disappointment. She began casting on Michael, setting his sexual clock forward a half a day.

“Summer really wore me out,” Michael made conversation while he waited. “And then Toria seemed to want to out-do her. Wouldn’t be fair if Matisse had to miss out on her turn.”

Laurel finished the spell. “Okay, that should do it. Have fun I guess.”

“Lucky to have a friend like you,” Michael said as he turned to leave. Matisse waved appreciatively.