Brimstone (63 page)

We went upstairs, wasting little time on pleasantries—how’s your mom, fine, etc.—and got down to business. Lisa had brought a black duffel bag with her, and we sat on the bed with her visual aids laid out for my instruction.

“The spell is divided into three parts,” she explained. “Binding, transformation, and amalgamation. You’ll have to break each one. First is the binding. It closes the circle and makes the members one unit for magical purposes.”

“Do they lose free will?”

“Not exactly. It’s more like a permanent version of that charm on your door.”

I got that. “Complacent and unlikely to ask questions.” She nodded. “So, the girls wouldn’t necessarily know what’s going on?”

Lisa met my eye levelly. “What sane person would think the reason they’re lucky and successful is an elaborate contract with a demon? Does that excuse them for not questioning it? I’m not the one to answer that.”

She flipped to a new page of her notepad, closing that door firmly. “Moving on to part two. Transformation. This is the part that empowers or transforms the girls to be able to draw energy from the guys.”

“Which you said began at the pledge ceremony.”

“You get a gold star for paying attention.” She pointed to her drawing, where stick-figure girls were arranged at the center of the spiral. “Part two completes what was started when you pledged. It’s not permanent until then.”

I hadn’t taken this into account. An exit. “So, if I didn’t go through initiation, I’d go back to normal?”

“I think so. The problem is that there’s a backlash effect. That’s likely what happened to that girl who got kicked out.”

“Brittany.”

“Right. As long as you haven’t been channeling too much energy, you would probably survive it.”

Part of me wished I didn’t know that, even with the worrisome word
probably
, I
could
get out of jail free. “Part two,” I prompted, turning the subject back to initiation. “Transformation is finished, and the pledges become karma vampires.”

“Right. Straight up, no power sharing.” She turned to the next page, where her notes were completely indecipherable. “Only it doesn’t stop here. Part three is amalgamation, which ties the knot tighter. That’s the pyramid scheme part. All the energy—which is all magic is, at its essence—that the actives
collect from the sex feeds upward through the pyramid. As below, so above. Basic alchemy.”

“So do all the alums stay connected to this scheme?”

“The binding is permanent, unless broken by a counterspell. Each time they initiate more Sigmas, it refreshes all three parts of the spell. An alumna wouldn’t have to be there every time, but she’d get a bigger piece of the pie if she came back every now and then.”

“Okay.” My brain was full. “So, do we know why Peter Abbott isn’t dead after eighteen years married to Victoria?”

“This is the ingenious part.” She spoke with real animation, the weight of her baggage lightening in her enjoyment of the puzzle. “Remember I said that sharing the wealth reduces the draw on an individual. Hook up with a guy once or twice, he might ace his test the next day, feel like he’s got the flu, but no harm no foul.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say
no
foul. You’re still taking something that isn’t yours.”

“Yeah, but it’s a renewable resource. As long as there’s recovery time …” She looked up from her notebook and saw my expression. “Okay. Maybe some foul.”

“Maybe a lot of foul if you fall in love with someone and can’t sleep with them.” I was mostly thinking about Devon. But not entirely. “How did Victoria get around that?”

“It’s so simple. She funneled some of the karma power to the Gamma Phi Ep house, protecting them from the effects of the drain. It’s a current converter fueled by their own stolen energy, feeding their own stolen energy back to them.”

“So, the guys have no clue?”

“It’s completely passive on their part.” A smile curved one corner of her mouth. “Well, not completely passive.”

“Don’t need a mental picture, thanks.”

“Prude.”

“Yes. So how do I break this down?”

Lisa went back to her notebook. “I’m reasonably confident I’ve got the components right.”

“Reasonably confident?”

“Well, the modifications are the problem. I know all the pieces, and I know how
I
would combine them. But neither of us has been through Victoria’s version.”

I sighed. “We need Devon. She’s got no loyalty left. I’ll bet she’d tell us everything she knows.”

“Do you know where home is for her?”

“Birmingham. How many Brinkerhoffs can there be in Alabama, I wonder?”

“Not a clue,” said Lisa, though I could see her storing the information as she got back to business.

“Basically everything that the Sigmas do, you have to counter. They bind, you break.” She began removing things from her duffel bag. “It may be as simple as this.” She held up a pair of silver embroidery scissors, laid them down, and pulled out some more vials. “Salt or salt water. Lemon oil. Valerian. Black or red pepper.”

“It’s like cooking.”

“Spells are all about combining the right ingredients plus a power source. So … yeah. Kind of like cooking. Only they’re using hellfire in their furnace.”

“I know. I’ve seen it in my dreams.” Her busy hands stilled and she looked at me, maybe sensing I had more to
say on the subject. I steeled myself, because speaking this aloud seemed to make it more real, and more frightening. “It’s not the same as Azmael.”

Lisa considered that, filed it away. “Worse?”

I shook my head, not really denying or agreeing. “Different. Formless, elemental. Powerful. Deep, raw power. How am I going to counter that?”

“Everything they do, you do the opposite.” Reaching across the bed, she grasped my pendant, holding the tiny crucifix tightly between her fingers. “Time to put your money where your mouth is.”

By one in the morning, we had concocted a plan. It was either brilliant or insane. Funny how there’s so little middle ground in these things. The logical parts were all Lisa. The insane parts were mine.

Lisa threw everything back into the duffel bag, zipped it, and set it on the floor. “Keep that with you. You think the ritual will be at the end of the week?”

“Yeah.” I linked my hands overhead and arched my back in a stretch. “We’re not supposed to know exactly, but they’ve told us all not to go anywhere on the weekend.”

“Okay.” I could see the intricate wheels in her brain turning. “My plane leaves at about eleven tomorrow morning. I’ve got two papers due and finals start on Tuesday.” She offered this like an apology.

“I never would have thought up this plan on my own. Even with Justin’s help.” Maybe we could have come up with something, but not this quick and this detailed. Lisa had said it herself. No one could out evil-genius her.

She slipped on her jacket, pulling her hair from under the collar. “He’s going to help you with this, right?”

“Somehow. I’m still hoping to convince this other pledge, Holly, to help me, too.”

“Okay.” We walked down the stairs, through the dark house to the front door. She stood with her hands in the pockets of her coat, still
thinking
. “I’ll be in touch this week. Be careful, okay?”

“I will.”

“And keep Justin nearby.”

I smiled slightly. “You don’t even like him.”

“Not the point. I trust him, which is more important.” Hand on the door, she turned back again. “Maybe I can fly back after my test …”

“How will you afford another ticket?” I said it bluntly, because I desperately wanted her to do just that, but knew it couldn’t happen. “Gandalf taught Frodo a lot, but in the end he had to go into Mount Doom alone.”

“But Frodo had Sam.”

I laughed, but it was fond. “Lisa, you are
so
not a hobbit.”

She smiled a little, too. “Good point. Be careful, Frodo.”

“See you on the other side, Gandalf.”

J
ustin and Gran had hit it off before he and I had even met, so I guess it wasn’t that weird to come into Froth and Java and see them sharing a table. Especially since Justin had had Thanksgiving dinner at our house. Gran waved me to the third chair, and I took the box of Lucky Charms out from under my arm and plunked it down.

Justin looked from the breakfast cereal to my face. “What’s with the box?”

I tilted my head and said with a vapid sorority-girl smile, “They’re magically delicious.”

“If you do that in a fake leprechaun voice,” said Gran, her
accent as thick as an Irish Spring commercial, “I’ll see you grounded till Christmas, see if I won’t.”

Justin laughed, and I grinned as I took off my jacket and sat down. “Hell Week?” he asked.

“No. It’s
Sisterhood
Week.” I nodded at the box. “Some Sigma has a twisted sense of humor.”

“So, today it’s cereal.” He moved it off the table. “And yesterday your clothes were inside out. That isn’t too scary, as hazing goes.”

“We live in a kinder, gentler, more litigious society.” I stole the corner of his coffee cake. “Most of the national sorority offices and school administrations have cracked down so hard on hazing that no one wants to ask pledges to do anything. Even to stand up when an active enters the room, or do interviews for pledge books.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“Most sororities aren’t.” I’d researched this for my Phantom columns, the ones that would never be finished. “On the other hand are ones that circle the fat areas on the pledges’ bodies with Sharpies so they know what to ‘improve.’ ”

Justin sat back. “You’re making that up.”

I shook my head. “These are things girls have reported.”

“After they dropped out?”

“After they graduated. The need to belong is so strong, they’d ‘voluntarily’ do things like drink a fifth of vodka and then go Christmas caroling through a fraternity house.”

Gran set down her cup. “Do they not read the news, about what happens to girls? How can young women do that to each other?”

“The same way that young men dare each other to drink until they end up in the hospital. They think they’re
invincible.” Maybe I was soapboxing a little, but it was relevant to my dilemma. “The predominant feeling on Greek Row is that they are specially blessed with luck and good looks and success. Who’d suspect that the Sigmas had contracted with Hell to make it true? The devil’s best trick was convincing man he didn’t exist.”

Justin looked at me quizzically. “Who said that? C. S. Lewis?”

I broke off another piece of coffee cake. “Kevin Spacey, in
The Usual Suspects
.”

He frowned at the decimated crumbs on his plate. “Do you want your own one of those?” I shook my head, since my mouth was full. “How about a latte?”

At my nod, he excused himself to Gran and went to the counter. “He looks tired,” she said, watching him go.

He did, but honestly, you couldn’t tell that from the back. I’m just saying.

“It’s not me, Gran.” My classes were over until exams next week, but Justin’s work wasn’t done. “He’s got papers to write and he’s grading Dad’s term papers, and he’s helping me … Okay, maybe that’s my fault, but not like you mean it.”

“I don’t mean it any way, miss.” She looked at me hard. “Unless the lady protests too much.”

“No, ma’am.” After a whole semester, what was a day or two more unrequited? If I didn’t reverse the Sigmas’ spell, and/or sever their underworld power connection, I doubted this would be my biggest problem.

“Are you ready?” asked Gran, following my thoughts easily.

“Yes.” I had Lisa’s duffel in the trunk of the Jeep, and I had the Plan. The only thing I could do at the moment was wait, and play the Sigmas’ game.

She laid her hand on mine, and I felt a gentle tide of
warmth. “You won’t fail, Maggie mine. You are strong and smart.”

“So are they, and they’ve got twenty years of experience, a chapter full of accomplices, and a demon on their side. I’m just one girl with a half-assed plan.”

“Then why not just give up? Why fight at all?”

I looked up from the coffee cake, which I’d crumbled into bits. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“And that,” she said, stroking my cheek with her cool fingers, “is why you are much more than one girl with a half-assed plan.”