Fic: The Adamant Blade (Chapter Four)
Steve opened the passenger door of the car and unfolded himself out of the small vehicle. Brushing his palms down his thighs, he straightened out his pants, and shook out the kinks in his legs. He was struggling to equate the Danny who owned the high performance car that was the Camero, to the one who seemed to be filled with such glee at forcing his mom's Kia Soul through the dense New York traffic, when the man himself appeared next to him on the pavement.
“You okay?” Danny asked, his hand landing on Steve's back. “You can wait out here if you want.”
“Danny,” Steve said, looking down at his friend. “You sister is missing, stop worrying about me and focus on that.”
“It's a lot to take in,” Danny said with a pained expression. “You've not freaked out so far, but this is going to be the first time you actually see something rather than just get told about it. Marie can be pretty intense.”
“I'm not staying out here.”
“Okay, but just...”
“I get it, Danny,” Steve reassured him, squeezing his partner's shoulder. “I promise not to freak out, at least not until later.”
Danny huffed something that might have been a laugh, and managed a faint smile. He turned and opened the gate to the little front yard of the lilac painted house which Steve would have expected to find in a small town rather than Brooklyn. He'd been surprised that once they'd turned off the main road, the tightly packed, red-brick store fronts had given way to tree lined streets of well maintained weatherboard houses. He was never, ever going to admit to Danny that he was kind of charmed by the neighborhood.
Steve shut the gate behind them as Danny approached the front door. The garden was small, crammed in the yard between the street and the house, but it was perfectly maintained. Steve had a sudden sense of grand houses with formal gardens, soaked in history, of the smell of jasmine on sultry night air, and a damp heat at odds with the dry scorch of a New York summer.
He was so surprised that he didn't realize that Danny had knocked until the door was opened by a tall black woman, with skin the color of mocha. She looked down at Danny with a uninterested expression. “Yeah?”
“I need to speak to Marie,” Danny said, his shoulders tensing enough to make Steve reach for a gun that wasn't there. “Is she available?”
“And who shall I say is calling?” she asked, oddly formal and suddenly looking a little more interested. Steve let out a breath as the other man relaxed minutely.
“Danny Williams,” his partner said, jutting his chin determinedly. “And this is Steve McGarrett.”
“Come inside,” the woman said, opening the door wider and beckoning them into the house. “I'll see if she's at home.”
Inside the house he followed Danny, who obviously knew where he was going, into a room he thought would probably be described as a parlor. It was an old fashioned room, thoroughly Gilded Age, and completely at odds with the modern kitchen he'd caught a glimpse of at the end of the corridor. Danny sat down on one of a pair of ornate, brocade covered, sofas that faced each other in front of the fireplace and gestured Steve to sit on the other.
Steve was surprised when the woman who'd answered the door followed them in and took a seat on the high backed armchair that faced the sofas. She said she'd see if Marie was in, he was sure, but here she was sitting down with them. Glancing at Danny, he received a quelling glare that stopped him asking what was going on.
He turned back to the woman, expecting her to say something to them, but she had her eyes closed. Her fingers were curled around the pendent that hung at her throat and her lips were moving as she recited some soundless set of words. Steve realized what was going on, just before he felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
The woman opened her eyes. “Daniel Williams, you been gone too long, sugar.” Her voice was a purr of pure New Orleans, lower and richer than the woman who'd spoken to them at the door.
“Hello Marie,” Danny said, his face softening into a smile. “I guess it's been longer than I thought, if you've changed partners without me knowing.”
“Ah, she's cute, yeah?” the woman smiled, and Steve felt like he might explode if someone didn't explain what was going on soon. “Bernice, she want to retire, get married. What can I do? I only borrow them.”
“Borrow them?” Steve blurted out, unable to contain himself.
“And who's your handsome friend, Daniel?” she asked, focusing on him. “He's so full of questions he might burst.”
“This is my partner, Lieutenant Commander Steven McGarrett,” Danny said, sitting up a little straighter. “And Steve, this is Madame Marie Laveau, late of New Orleans.”
“The Marie Laveau?” Steve asked, making Danny gape at him in surprise. “What? I've been to New Orleans.”
“Tell me what they told you, cher,” Marie said, flashing him a knowing smirk. “And I tell you how much was lies.”
Steve contemplated this woman who claimed to be a long dead Voodoo Queen, and wondered if he was really supposed to believe she was who she said she was. He couldn't read Danny, although he knew his partner wouldn't have wasted time coming here if he didn't think it'd help his sister. And he supposed that was all that really mattered.
“You died in 1880 something,” Steve said, starting with what he figured was the most important part. “And then your daughter took over doing Voudoun, but people often confuse the two of you. You had lots of followers from all walks of life, and all ethnic backgrounds. Historians think you could make accurate predictions and tell fortunes for the rich because the servants told you the gossip of the big houses.”
“I did leave my physical body in 1881,” she said, looking pleased with what he remembered, even though it wasn't exactly flattering. “And I've been borrowing other people's, with their consent of course, since that day. The first one was my daughter, and then her cousin.”
“You borrow them?” Steve asked again, not really sure he bought her story at all. It was too easy to fake, after all. An ear for accents and the knack of cold reading her clients, and it'd be pretty easy to fool most people.
“For sure,” she said, not looking at all like she was offended that he obviously didn't believe her. “And gossip is all very well, cher, but it don't tell me your daddy's real proud of you. It don't tell me that he wishes things had been different, that he'd made more time to get to know the man you grew into better before he died, especially now he knows about your momma. She's a cold woman.”
Steve felt like his world was collapsing. He knew, without doubt, that Danny hadn't told her about his messed up family, because his friend would never break a confidence like that. Analyzing everything she'd said, he tried to work out if she could have known from news stories or from being able to read his reactions as she spoke.
It seemed unlikely that she'd happen to remember his dad dying from news stories, although he guessed if she knew Danny, she might have heard about it. But his mom? That was unlikely. He had so many questions for his dad, so much he wanted to know and now he had the chance.
“He really didn't know about mom before?” Steve asked. It was the question he hadn't really allowed himself to think about because it hurt too much. If his dad had known Doris was still alive, and sent them away anyway, never mentioning it in all the things in the toolbox, then that would kill something inside him.
“Babe,” Danny said, looking like he wanted to hug his partner.
“Oh cher,” Marie said, sounding so caring it nearly took his breath away. “He loved you both so much, it broke his heart to send you away. He's not got many good things to say about your momma.”
Steve felt his throat closing up and his eyes filling with tears. Pressing a finger and thumb to his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose. God, but his family was fucked up.
He hadn't realized Danny had moved until he felt his friend's hand on his shoulder. “Babe.”
He didn't turn into the heat of Danny's body, but he wanted to. Bowing his head, he tried to get himself under control. No one said anything for a few minutes, and he focused on the pressure of Danny's fingers squeezing his shoulder.
“Look,” Danny said, breaking the silence. “I know you want to reconnect with your dad, but I need to find my sister. Can we come back, once I find Heather, and you can spend as long as you like here?”
Steve felt like such a heel. He'd forgotten, just for a few minutes, that they were here for something way more important than hearing what his dad thought of his mom. “Sure, Danno. Sorry.”
“Hey, don't feel guilty,” Danny said, squeezing his shoulder. “You have a lot of unfinished business with your dad, and any other time I'd love nothing more than to help you settle it.”
“Okay.”
“You come to find Heather, no?” Marie asked as though Steve wasn't having some kind of breakdown.
“Yeah,” Danny said, his hand not leaving Steve shoulder. “I need something to track her down and I figured you'd be able to help.”
“You not gonna ask me if she's dead?” Marie said, and Steve snapped his head up to look at her. How could she ask that?
“I figured you're enough of a friend to have told me when I got here if she was,” Danny said calmly, and anyone who didn't know him as well as Steve, probably would have missed how much that calmness was costing him. “Was I wrong?”
“Oh no, shug,” Marie assured him, rising from her chair. “Just not everyone has as much faith as you. Come, I need to cook up some magic for you.”
Danny's hand slid off Steve's shoulder but stopped on his bicep, giving it a squeeze. “You want to stay here or come and watch Marie do her thing?”
“I'm okay, D,” Steve said, offering his friend a smile he wasn't sure really made it all the way to his eyes. “Anyway, I want to see my first bit of real magic.”
“Get your freak out done with?” Danny laughed, getting up and following Marie out of the room.
“Something like that.”
“Most of what you'll see is for show,” Danny said, turning off the corridor before they reached the kitchen, surprising Steve. “Her clients expect things to look like the way they've seen in the movies or TV, but real magic is pretty quiet. Professional courtesy means she doesn’t usually bother with any pretense for me. But with you here we might get a bit.”
The room they entered was even more of a shock than the Victorian parlor had been. It was dark, illuminated only by a few shafts of daylight that seemed to sneak into the room past the dusty curtains. Marie struck a long match, moving around the room lighting little mountains of dribbled wax that Steve assumed had once been candles.
The walls of the room were lined with shelves that bowed under the weight of pots and jars whose contents Steve was thankful he couldn’t make out in the dim light. In the middle of the room there was an old mahogany dining table that, despite the dust and the candle wax, Steve thought was probably worth a small fortune.
“You got something for me?” Marie asked Danny, as she started to gather things off the shelves.
“Some hair,” Danny said, pulling an evidence bag out of his pocket.
Steve's knowledge of voodoo was sketchy, and almost entirely based on a couple of bad movies and one visit to New Orleans, but he knew using something belonging to the person was common. The logical part of his brain was screaming that he shouldn't be trying to work out what was going on, because it was all obviously fake. But the rest of him couldn't help but be excited about what he was going to see.
“That'll do for her, shug,” Marie said, laying a well worn bible on the table and covering it with a square of white fabric. “But I need something from you, too.”
“I know,” Danny said, pulling a switchblade from the pocket of his slacks.
“Danny...” Steve started, but then found he didn't know where the sentence was going to go. He had no idea what was going to happen and it wasn't like he could stop Danny doing anything if it helped find his sister.
“It's okay,” Danny reassured him, flashing a tight smile. “Because Heather and I are tied by blood, if we put some of mine in the gris-gris, it'll be even better at finding her.”
“How much?” Steve asked, although he figured it couldn't be that much if all the ingredients were going to be wrapped in the square of cloth.
“No more than a drop or two, cher,” Marie said with a smile, putting a battered tea cup filled with either salt or sugar to the left of the cloth on the table. At the twelve o'clock position she placed the matching saucer with a little fat candle melted on it, and a bowl of water at three o'clock. Then she lit an incense stick from the sputtering flame of the candle and stuck it into a crack in the table, between her and the cloth.
“I thought you needed a sacrifice in voodoo,” Steve said, hoping no one was going to suddenly produce a black chicken.
“Another issue I have with organized religion,” Danny muttered.
“Harnessing power isn't easy, especially if you're not so naturally gifted as Daniel” Marie said, ignoring Danny as he grumbled to himself. “Ceremony and ritual make things stick in the mind, and you learn from the people around you.”
That kind of made sense to Steve. You could train your body, and your mind, to do all kinds of things if you practiced enough. “Like muscle memory?”
“He's a smart boy, eh shug?” she said to Danny, who rolled his eyes. “You should keep this one.”
Danny flushed and, before Steve could ask what Marie was talking about, flicked open his knife. “Can we get on with this? I know you said she's not dead, but whereever she is, I'm sure it's not pleasant and I need to find her.”
Steve felt a flash of guilt but Marie just rolled her eyes and said, “Men.” Turning back to the table, she took a deep breath, obviously focusing herself. She began murmuring under her breath, her eyes closed as she concentrated. Steve wanted to ask Danny what was happening, what it all meant, but he figured it was probably not the right time to pepper him with questions.
The words Marie was murmuring were still too quiet to hear, and Steve wasn’t sure he'd understand even if he could make them out. They were building though, becoming faster and more intense, and then Steve felt it.
Out in the field, he'd have snapped to full attention, sure something was about to happen. It was a pricking of his finely tuned instincts, it was the rise of the hairs on the back of his neck, the movement in the corner of his eye. In the back room of a house in Brooklyn, watching a long dead voodoo priestess work a spell, he wasn't sure what to do with the sensations.
The candles flickered all at once, and Steve couldn't help the shiver that ran up his spine. Marie fell silent and remained where she stood, head bowed, for a few moments. Steve glanced at Danny but couldn't get a read on his expression. Though still and quiet, which was unusual enough, he seemed relaxed too. Steve wondered what Danny was feeling, as a magic user, if even he could feel that the room was suddenly filled with a quiet power that made the air thrum.
“Earth!” Marie said suddenly, making him twitch with surprise. “For lost things, and to tie you to this side of the crossroads.” She took a good pinch of dirt from a jar on the table and sprinkled it in the center of the cloth square.
“Palm oil, for a doorway,” she said as she picked up a bottle of oil and drizzled a few drops around the little mound of dirt. Picking up a polished stone, she put that on top of the earth. “Moonstone, a light in the dark places and to keep the bad things away.”
She opened the evidence bag Danny had given her and pulled the strands of blonde hair out, scrunching them into a tight ball. “Something of the lost soul,” she said, placing the hair on the little pile of the gris-gris. “And something of the seeker.”
Danny stepped forward and without a word stuck his knife into the tip of his right index finger. Steve wasn't really surprised to see his partner didn't even flinch, as he squeezed a few drops of blood onto the little mound of earth and hair.
“Blood, freely given,” Marie said, as though she was pointing it out to someone who might not have been paying full attention, and Steve suddenly felt a surge of power in the room that made his skin instantly pucker into goose-flesh. “Open the doors and lead this brother to his sister.”
There was the sensation of a bright flash, even though the room stayed dim, a rushing explosion of sound that never happened, and all the candles went out as though blown by a breeze he couldn't feel. “Jesus.”
Marie laughed. “No, cher, just me and your Danny doing our thing.”
“I think that was mostly you,” Danny said, as Marie re-lit the candles and began to gather up the cloth of the gris-gris.
“If you weren't such an unbeliever,” Marie said, tying the top of the little bundle with a piece of twine and then making a large loop that was clearly meant to enable it to be worn around the neck. “I'd tell you it was Papa Legba and Ayezan giving you their blessings.”
“Believing in magic is about as much as I can manage,” Danny said, taking the gris-gris and slipping it over his head. “Trying to give it names and personalities is just too much for an ordinary guy like me.”
“Sugar, when I was learning my skills, your family been practicing magic for a thousand years,” she said, dismissing Danny's arguments with a wave of her hand. “Don't try to tell me you're some dumb schmuck who's into all this by accident.”
“A thousand years?” Steve asked, because...well, a thousand years!
“Not now Steve,” Danny snapped and then sighed. He put his hand on Steve's chest. “I promise when all this is over, we can sit and talk for ever about anything you want. Just right now, I need to get on with finding Heather. Okay?”
“Okay,” Steve agreed reluctantly. He hated going into a situation where he knew he didn't have all the facts. And running off to find Heather, mostly in the dark about what was going on, was dangerous. He hated to admit it, but the best he could do was to try not to be too much of a liability.
On any other day, Danny would have found the silence in the car oppressive, and have had to fill it with digs at Steve about something. Now though, as he concentrated on where the gris-gris was leading him, it was what he needed. Steve seemed to sense it too, although maybe he was just quietly freaking out over what he'd seen.
Not that there had been much to see at Marie's. She'd left out all the ritual that Danny knew was part of what people paid to see. In about twenty minutes she’d put together a work that he'd have had to spend hours preparing for. If he could have done it at all. The power she'd summoned and pushed into the little cloth bag was immense.
He could feel it, prickling at the edge of his mind. As soon as he put the gris-gris around his neck, and now as they drove through the Upper West Side, he could almost see it stretching out like a trail of mystical breadcrumbs leading him towards Heather.
Glancing at Steve, he had expected to find him taking in his surrounding and planning for choke points or escape routes or some such. But his partner was staring off into the distance, his fingers wrapped around the little charm Marie had given him.
“Agwe,” she'd said, pressing a little metal fish on a leather cord into his hand. “Shell of the Sea, he protects you and you're going to need him.”
Neither Danny nor Steve could ask any more as Marie had slipped away then, leaving only the girl who'd answered the door to them. Danny had never been sure how much Marie's hosts were aware of, but the girl, Cindy, seemed a lot more friendly afterward. She'd offered them coffee, agreeing it was to go, when Danny made it clear he needed to leave. Cindy had had them follow her through a garden gate out back, through a yard and into the back of a trendy coffee shop. She'd slipped behind the counter and made him a latte and Steve some vile thing with green tea.
Around the corner, a block ahead, the thread of power disappeared, and Danny changed lanes to make the turn. Steve seemed to snap out of whatever trance he'd been in and took note of where they were. “Where do you think it's taking us?”
“Somewhere close,” Danny said, turning the car around the corner. The gris-gris tugged him towards an apartment block down the road, and he swung wildly into a parking space that he knew shouldn't be there at this time of day. The driver behind him leaned on his horn but Danny didn't care, the gods he didn't believe in were smiling on him.
Steve was out of the car and twitching with barely contained energy on the sidewalk before he'd even turned off the engine. Danny felt a rush of affection for the big goof. The crazy man was not only willing, but eager to follow him into whatever insane situation waited for them inside the apartment block, regardless of his own safety.
“When we get inside,” Danny said, hoping the apartment block didn't have a doorman. “I need you to do exactly what I tell you for once. Can you manage that?”
“Of course I can,” Steve said, sounding affronted by the idea that he regularly completely ignored every word Danny said to him.
“Seriously, Steve,” Danny said, touching his partner's arm, both to nudge him towards the door of the building and also to make him really listen. “I know you think your SEAL training has equipped you for every situation, and that the rest of us mortals just went to clown school, but this is definitely my home turf.”
“Clown school?” Steve said, approaching the apartment block with aneurism face in full effect. “There's no doorman. I can probably pop the lock.”
“For fuck's sake, Steve,” Danny said, shaking his head and elbowing him out of the way. “Home turf, remember.”
Mashing his hand onto the call buttons of as many apartments as possible, he kept the pressure on until the speaker in the door squawked into life. “Mamel inny on non,” he shouted, his mouth as distortingly close to the microphone as possible. The speaker whined with feedback and the outraged shouts of a couple of residents, but thankfully some idiot buzzed the door open.
“Mamel inny on non?” Steve asked, looking like he couldn't decide if he was impressed or amused.
“It's the magic word,” Danny said smugly, swinging the door open and following the gris-gris's trail up the stairs. “People's brain's make it into words that mean something to them, and every building has at least one person stupid enough to buzz just about anyone in.”
“Right,” Steve said sceptically, bounding up the stairs behind him. “You think Heather's in one of the apartments?”
Danny realized guiltily he'd not taken the time to even teach the basics of what he knew to Steve. “She's not on Earth any more.”
“What?” Steve caught Danny's arm and nearly toppled him down the stairs.
“She's fallen off our plane of existence, our dimension,” Danny said, wishing he'd spent more time last night talking about the case rather than the theory of magic. “I should have taken the time to explain that to you when Mack told us, I'm sorry.”
“How do you know?” Steve demanded, obviously playing back all the conversations they'd had on the way from the airport.
“Nana can't say where she is,” Danny explained, tugging his arm free from Steve's loosening grip and carrying on up the stairs to the third floor. “If she was still here, even dead, Nana could have found her. And she would have, she likes Heather.”
“She's not your actual grandmother, is she?” Steve said, sounding like he really hoped it was true. “Because that's really screwed up if she is.”
“She's everyone's grandmother,” Danny said, knowing he was being vague enough to really piss Steve off. “I'm hoping we won't have to go and see her because she's really not someone you want to deal with unless you absolutely have to. I'll explain later, I promise.”
“This list for later is getting really big,” Steve muttered, as he shouldered Danny none too gently into the wall, and took the lead through the door from the stairwell.
“Seriously, Steve?” Danny complained, rubbing his shoulder. “Fifth door on the right. That's your limit, is it? All the crap you've seen and heard, and that's it? Just not getting to know who someone you haven't met, and hopefully won't, is? Don't, for the love of god, break the door, this is the Upper West Side, someone will call the cops.”
“I was going to pick the lock,” Steve said, his overly innocent expression giving the lie to his words. “If no one's in.”
Danny rolled his eyes, and knocked on the door. They waited, both leaning close to the door in case they could hear movement in the apartment. Nothing happened. He could hear the hum of the building's air-conditioning, the faint murmur of a TV from somewhere down the hall, but nothing from behind the door. Steve raised his eyebrows, and Danny nodded. A set of lock picks materialized from one of Steve's many pockets, and the door opened in the time most people would probably spend finding their keys.
With a shared look, born of too many simple cases going south, and a quick glance to check the corridor, they drew the guns slipped casually in the back of their waistbands. Pushing the door open and stepping inside they cleared the rooms one by one, not commenting on what they saw until they were sure they were alone.
The living room looked like something from a magazine spread. White sofas, a rug that probably cost as much as his mom's car, and some boring but no doubt expensive art on the walls. The kitchen was clearly unused, the refrigerator empty except for a couple of bottles of water.
Once past the acceptable facade though, the apartment got weirder. The bathroom and the smaller of the two bedrooms were stacked with books and papers, notes scrawled everywhere, even on the walls. There was a blanket on a bare mattress on the floor that suggested someone was sleeping there, but amongst the mess it was hard to tell.
In what was clearly supposed to be the master bedroom, there was no furniture, just a bare concrete floor and the same mad scribbling on the walls. Danny supposed with time, and probably some help, he could work out what the notes were, but right now he was being drawn to the middle of the room.
“Here,” he said to Steve, reaching out with the senses he tried not to use too much. “The barriers between the worlds are thin. He's been casting in here.”
“Really?” Steve asked, peering around the room as though he'd be able to see some evidence of it.
“Usually we call them works,” Danny said,. “Major works and minor works.”
“And he's been doing major works?”
“Yeah, big stuff,” Danny confirmed, pushing the gun back into the waistband of his jeans and digging through his pockets for his chalk. He bent and drew a wide circle on the floor, years of practice making him fast and accurate.
“And you're going to open up the barriers?” Steve asked, sounding like he couldn't quite believe he was saying the words.
“Basically yes,” Danny agreed, wishing he didn't have to. “This is a major work, something I'd normally have to really prepare for, but with the power the gris-gris is giving me, and the fact there's a weak spot, I can do it almost without trying.”
“And Heather's on the other side?”
“I hope so, babe,” Danny said with a sigh. “I really hope so.”
“So we just go through and find her?”
“No, I go through and find her,” Danny said, knowing what Steve's reaction would be.
“Danny...” Steve grabbed his arm.
“No Steve,” he said firmly. “You are not going through, no matter what you say.”
“You can't go through on your own,” Steve said, something that looked a lot like panic clouding his expression. “I can't...I couldn't let you...what if you need help?”
“The biggest help you can be is to stay here,” Danny said, gripping Steve's bicep to stop him when he tried to say more. “Seriously, I need you here to make sure no one shuts the portal behind me and, babe, you'll be like a beacon guiding us back.”
Danny could tell Steve thought it was all a ploy to keep him there, and maybe the part about being a beacon actually was, because Danny had no clue what was going to happen. He was terrified of whatever was on the other side, and had no idea if he would be able to find his way back. But other than Grace, he liked to think that Steve was probably the only person he could always find. “Seriously, if whoever he is comes back and finds an open portal in his bedroom, he's going to slam that door closed so fast. And we won't be much use to anyone if we're stuck on the other side.”
“We could call your mom,” Steve suggested, obviously playing scenarios in his head, and wishing Chin and Kono were there. “Or Mack.”
“We don't have time,” Danny said, as calmly as he could. There was no way he could do the ritual if he was worrying that Steve was going to do something stupid. “Heather's been in there for three days, Steve. Three days of god knows what. I can't leave her there while we wait for back up.”
“Okay,” Steve agreed reluctantly, obviously not happy but unable to argue against his own logic. “But I want it on record that I think this is a terrible idea.”
“Noted,” Danny said with a grin, slipping his gun out of his waistband and handing it to Steve. ”Now, keep this, use it if you need to, it's not going to help with whatever's out there on the other side, and I don't want to lose it. Stop with that face, physical weapons aren't going to help on the other side.”
“You can't know that,” Steve protested, trying to give the gun back to Danny. “Can you?”
“I'm pretty sure,” Danny insisted, pushing the gun back. He wasn't about to tell Steve about the first time he faced a demon on his own and nearly died because he'd thought his gun and newly minted cop's shield would be better than his other skills.
“Danny.”
“I know, babe,” Danny said, gripping Steve's wrist. “I wish I could take you with me, and from now on we're going to start training you so you know as much as I do, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Right,” Danny said, moving away and towards the circle he'd drawn on the floor. “I'm going to step in the circle, close it behind me and then open the portal. You are not to cross into the circle no matter what, you hear?”
“No stepping in the circle,” Steve parroted, and Danny eyed him critically until he broke. “It's okay, I get this bit. Magic circle that keeps things outside out, and inside in.”
“One of these days you're going to have to explain how you know so much abstract shit,” Danny said by way of agreement. “And don't tell me it's the internet.”
Steve gave him a sour look. “I worked that out myself.”
“Huh,” Danny said, grudgingly impressed. He supposed it was pretty obvious that the circle was meant to contain things but still, it was a pretty big leap of faith for someone who didn't know magic existed two days ago.
Steve didn't say more. He was obviously struggling to deal with all the frustration he was feeling at not being allowed to follow Danny, and was almost vibrating with nerves. Danny couldn't blame him, he'd be feeling the same thing if the roles were reversed.
“Look,” Danny said, stepping towards Steve and smoothing his hand down his friend's arm. “I will do everything in my power to come back here. I won't leave you hanging, I wouldn't do that to you.”
Steve relaxed minutely, his face softening a little. “I know. I just...it...God, Danny. I don't like not being able to help. I should be your back up. You shouldn't have to do this on your own.”
“I'm not on my own, babe,” Danny said, squeezing Steve's arm. “You're here, and you're helping. I wish I could take you through there with me, but I can't. And I need to know someone I trust has my back here. I don't want the door being slammed shut behind me.”
“Okay,” Steve said, managing a tight smile. “Just, be careful.”
“I will,” Danny said, moving away. He stepped into the chalk circle and stood still. Closing his eyes, he focused himself on what he was about to do. He felt his heart beating, and concentrated on that for a few moments, centering himself, feeling power gathering in his chest. He pulled his senses in, shaping the power into something useable, molding it to his will, before he pushed it out into the chalk circle.
He opened his eyes again, looking around the room with more than just his eyes. He could see the circle, infused with power, shimmering in his mind. He could also see the weak spot in the center and turned his attention to that. Pushing out power, he forced it into a spike to drive through the the little fissures he could see winking in and out of existence. There was a screaming grinding sound somewhere beyond normal hearing, and he hairs on Danny's neck stood on end. The thrust of power pushed into the weak spot and tore a hole between the worlds.
“Danny...” Steve was right up at the edge of the circle, his face filled with worry.
“It's okay,” Danny reassured him, giving him a big smile. He felt exhilarated. He'd just opened a portal with nothing more than the power of his mind. No spells, no casting, and no days of heavy preparation, just his mind. Yeah, okay, so the barriers were paper thin, but he'd still done without so much as a formal spell. The gris-gris was giving him a boost, he was sure of that, but there was something else lending him a magical hand, something he wasn't sure he should trust, but that felt so right.
The sickly yellow light that poured out though the portal seemed to reach like searching fingers around the room, pressing and testing the surfaces as though trying to find a way out. Danny could feel a change in the air as the wind he could hear howling in the demon dimension followed the light though the tear in the worlds. It carried with it a smell of sulfur and dead things, of burning and pain.
Taking a big breath he reined his feelings in. He was about to step through the portal and no matter how easy he'd found opening the door, what was on the other side might still be more than he could handle. He'd told Steve he wouldn't leave him, and he didn't intend to, but knowing there might be no choice was like a knife in his heart.
Danny took a deep breath and pushed the thought aside. Steve, the big goof was pacing like he was the one caged in a circle of power, and he nearly reached out to stop him. He caught himself, before his arm even moved, but the shock of how easily his feelings nearly over rode all his training was like a cold shower down his back. It was so easy, so automatic now, reaching out to touch his partner. He needed to focus on the task ahead of him, and worrying about how much his feelings for Steve seemed to have grown without him really noticing.
“Hold the door open and keep a light on,” Danny said, hoping his light tone could pull a smile from Steve but it fell flat.
“Be careful,” Steve managed, kicked puppy eyes and aneurism face battling for dominance. “Please.”
“I will,” Danny said, wishing he didn't have to do what he did. “Stay out of the circle, no matter what. I'll be back with Heather as soon as I can.”
Turning away from Steve and looking into the gap between the worlds was one of the hardest things he'd ever done, but he squared his shoulders and stepped forward.
Chapter Five