Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian) (20 page)

“What did you ask him?”

She fidgeted and looked away “I don’t remember!” she exclaimed. “Something about what it was like being a demon.”

I knew Jill. She would never hesitate to ask all sorts of embarrassing questions if she wanted to know the answer. She’d been with Zack for a good while now, and she
might
have asked him a vague question about being a demon? Nope. That didn’t cut it.

“It’s scary, isn’t it,” I said gently.

“Scary? Zack?” She tried to laugh it off, shook her head.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s pretty scary. All really weird and different. It’s hard to think of Zack as a demon too, which probably doesn’t help.” Zack played his human role well. He blended, a surfer dude. Nice guy and tough fed. No one would have a clue he was anything but human. The only reason I did was because he’d shown superhuman strength and speed when picking me up to race me away from an attempted summoning. “Have you ever seen his demon form?”

Jill sobered and went a bit pale. “No.”

I sighed. What the hell was Zack thinking keeping her in the dark like this? “Jill, you should. The demahnk are beautiful. You still care about him, right?”

“Yes. Sure I do,” she said, but the look in her eyes reminded me of a rabbit ready to run.

Worry rose in me for both Jill and Zack. “Look, please, for your sake and your daughter’s, please talk to him about this. Ask him about
him
.”

“Okay. Yeah. Sure.” She glanced at her watch. “I gotta go! Time to learn how to squirt this kid out.”

Run rabbit run. “Okay.” I gave her a hug along with the best smile I could manage. “You’ll come by later, right?”

“Yep. After lunch and errands.”

“Sounds good. Happy squirting!” I frowned. “That came out wrong.”

Jill laughed. “It sure did! See you later. Make sure your honey is all spruced up for his inspection.”

I grinned. “I think you’ll like what you see.”

After Jill left, I took care of my morning ablutions, got myself all prettified again, then texted Zack an update.

J still says no. Find out real root issue why. Also RV too small. Mobile home instead?

That task completed, I headed down to the basement. There wasn’t much to be done to prepare. Zack’s assistance, with clearing the area and again topping off the storage diagram, had been invaluable. Yet another point in his favor.

An odd rhythm in the flows caught me briefly off balance as I began the summoning, like waves on a white-capped lake. Breathing deeply, I waited and watched for lulls, found as much of a pattern as I could, then made the call during a calmer period, like waiting for a pause in the rain to dash to one’s car.

The arcane wind picked up and whipped my hair into my eyes. I added power to the flows and stabilized the perimeter of the portal, once again grateful to Zack for the additional power in the diagram. It would be poor form to lose any of the four I was bringing through, to say the least.

Finally the wind died, and I felt the rush of potency that told me the call was complete. I anchored the flows and settled the weird turbulence as much as I could before releasing the portal.

Mzatal knelt in the center of the diagram, head lowered. Bryce stood beside him, bent over at the waist with his hands on his knees. Paul lay sprawled on his back by Mzatal, breathing hard. Jekki, curled in a tight blue ball, lifted his head and gave me a chirrup, then raced upstairs as if the summoning had been a walk in the park.

“Whoa,” Paul moaned. “That was a lot worse than going.”

My attention remained on Mzatal, and I clung to the hope that he was truly rested and recovered. “Good to see you again, sweetheart,” I said.

He lifted his head, opened his eyes, ancient gaze upon me. A smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I have missed you, beloved.”

Potency radiated from him, and his eyes damn near glowed with strength and vitality. My smile widened. “You look good, Boss.” I moved to him, crouched, slid my arms around him. A humming vibration passed through me. Hot damn, was he ever supercharged.

The vibration increased as he wrapped his arms around me, kissed me. Though I felt no threat, I had the sense he was so strong in this moment he could snap me in half with his arms if he chose to. I smiled into the kiss. What the hell had he been up to? Whatever it was, I liked it.

After a moment, he broke the kiss and released me. He laid a hand on the downed Paul’s shoulder briefly, then stood in a smooth movement and held his hand out to me.

I took it, rose from the crouch then looked over Bryce who still stood doubled over beside us. “Thatcher, you look a lot better than the last time I saw you.” I smiled. “I’m Kara Gillian.”

With effort, he pushed himself upright. Medium build, lean and efficient, he wasn’t an overly handsome man, but he was also far from unattractive. His hair was about the same color as mine—boring dull brown—but his hazel eyes held an interesting combination of
kind
and
dangerous
. “Ms. Gillian,” he said, extending his right hand. “I owe you my life. And please, call me Bryce.”

I took his hand, shook it. “Not a problem. I’m sure we’ll figure out a fair trade.” I grinned to signal that I wasn’t serious.

Bryce gave me a smile. Nothing toothy but not as subtle as Mzatal’s either. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

Paul groaned and struggled up into a sitting position.

Bryce moved over to him. “Hey, kid, you okay?”

The young man staggered to his feet, swayed. “Sure,” he said with a gasp that left me doubtful, though I knew Mzatal would address it if Paul had suffered any true harm.

Bryce caught his arm and studied him, a look of concern on his face. “No shitting me. Are you okay?”

Paul dragged in a deeper breath and straightened his shoulders. “Yeah. I’m good. I promise. A little shaky is all.” He gave Bryce a convincingly reassuring smile. “Thanks.”

“Go sit until you’re not shaky anymore,” Bryce ordered and herded Paul toward the futon.

Their interaction spoke volumes of true concern. I breathed a sigh of relief and allowed myself cautious optimism that their relationship was genuine.

Mzatal squeezed my hand, laid his fingers on my cheek. His eyes narrowed. “Beloved, what has happened to you?”

He felt the discord remaining from Farouche’s influence. “I had a run in with Farouche and got zapped by the same sort of thing that affected Paul,” I said, then continued with a summary of the road encounter, trusting he would read the details from me. “It was awful. Ryan cleared the worst of it, but I figure you can get rid of the rest.”

He brought his other hand up in readiness to place on my head, paused, waiting for my consent. That was
huge
progress from our first days together when he did precisely what he wished whether I liked it or not.

I gave him a smile. “Please do what you can.”

Mzatal cradled my head between his hands, and I felt the subtle whisper of his mental touch. “This is the same energy I cleared from Paul in the warehouse and from Bryce during his healing,” he murmured. He went quiet for a moment, working, and I felt the release of the fear response like the
pop
of a soap bubble. As a test, I consciously considered kicking Farouche in the balls. Not even a hint of fear in reaction, when a few minutes earlier the thought would have elicited near panic.

I began to smile in relief, then realized that Mzatal remained utterly and impossibly still, even though the Farouche influence was clearly gone.

A wave of dread and worry came to me through the bond. Tensing, I reached up to grip one of his hands. “Boss?” I said, keeping my voice low to not draw the attention of the two men. “What’s wrong?”

His eyes opened, and in them the dread was magnified a hundred-fold. “Rhyzkahl’s virus, the implant in you—its containment was . . . cracked by the incident with Farouche,” he said.

Sick fear threatened to swamp me, but deep breathing kept it at a low simmer. “All right,” I said, rather pleased that I sounded calm. I sure as hell didn’t feel it. “But you can re-contain it, right?”

Mzatal didn’t answer for what was probably a full minute. An eternity of time, while he continued to assess and measure and consider. “I can,” he finally replied. “Though it will require frequent reinforcement now, as it is . . . leaking.” He stroked his thumb over my cheek, visibly holding his own dread in check. “Confusion, or feeling not yourself, would be signs that you are in need of care.”

“Got it,” I said, gave him a light smile I didn’t feel one bit, not with
rakkuhr
contaminating me like radiation from a faulty nuclear power reactor. “We’ll have to be joined at the hip then, won’t we?” I took a deep breath and released it. “We’ll find Idris, get back to your realm, and then fix this shit once and for all.”

“We will find the means to counter it,” he replied, voice still low yet filled with intensity. “It is still far from coalescing here,” he touched my sternum, “for the final stage.”

My mouth felt as dry as Death Valley. “And if it coalesces?” I knew I’d become Rowan, but would it be like turning on a switch? A gradual morph? Or would I change like a werewolf?
WereRowan
, I thought somewhat hysterically.

I felt his mental caress, his understanding that I needed to find any shred of humor I could to shield myself from the utter horror of what I faced. “The
rakkuhr
would crawl sigil to sigil in the order they were created,” he murmured. He slid his hand to my chest, then down my side and to my back, “until it reaches Szerain’s, to finalize with you lost to Rowan.”

I realized I had a death grip on his other hand, and I forced myself to unclench my fingers. “All right,” I said with a slight nod. “If shit starts to get bad, we go back to the demon realm, and you and Elofir can lock it down again.” I didn’t wait for him to confirm or deny that. I didn’t want to dwell on it for an instant longer. “How about I get you caught up on what’s been going on?” I said, and immediately proceeded to fill him in. Idris and the phone call. Everything he said, including the possible StarFire reference. His sister’s death and his mother’s probable role as hostage. Katashi on Earth. The “Rowan” bit at the end of the call, and I now wondered if that had contributed to the crack in the containment of the virus? During the entire summary I consciously remained mentally open to make it easy for Mzatal to read details and nuances. Sometimes that whole no-privacy-around-lords thing was convenient. “Oh, and my aunt—”

“Where is this Farouche?” Mzatal interrupted, his face dark and determined, and I felt his spike of focused anger through our connection. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking.

I fixed him with a determined look. “No! You canNOT go find the man and throttle him. Not with Idris’s mom being held, and the chance Farouche is involved in that. We have to tread softly until we have more information and can make a definitive move.” I needed another topic to break his dark mood. “There’s more. Idris said, ‘Tell Mzatal I still have his ring and haven’t forgotten the
gheztak ru eehn
.’”

Mzatal closed his eyes, and I peered up at him. “Zack told me it translated roughly to ‘the devastating failure,’” I went on. “I don’t get the connection, but I’m thinking you have a clue.”

Mzatal exhaled and looked down at me. “
Gheztak ru eehn
is how I designated my loss of you to Rhyzkahl,” he said, voice hoarse with emotion. “It marked that moment and was the driving force for the two of us to work incessantly until we retrieved you from him.”

Comprehension dawned like a flower blooming in high-speed photography. “I get it. By telling me he has your ring, he’s letting us know he’s still on our side. Then he acknowledged that he knows we won’t stop until we get him back, otherwise there’d be no point in him saying that at all.” With the full meaning unfolded, I felt as if Idris was with me now. “It’s not just acknowledging, it’s approving,” I added. “Especially since he gave me the StarFire clue, which trumps everything he’d said earlier about not going after him. ‘I’m still on your side. I know you’ll find me. Here’s some help with that.’ Damn clever execution on Idris’s part.”

Mzatal smiled. “He is brilliant, and we will retrieve him.” He drew a deep breath. “I have assessments to complete outside and have been overly long in the confines of this chamber.”

I felt the anxiety building in him. “Go do what you need to do, lover. I’ll get the guys settled in.”

He gave me a lingering kiss, then departed the basement.

“C’mon upstairs,” I said to Bryce and Paul. “Zack has a pot roast in the slow cooker, and I’d hate to see it go to waste.” I led the way and gave the pair a basic rundown of the layout of the house, showed Bryce his room—the guest room where Zack had been staying. We stopped at the doorway of my so-called office/library. “I hope the futon in here will be okay for you, Paul. If you find it’s too lumpy or uncomfortable, I’ll get you an air mattress.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said, his eyes on my dinosaur of a computer, complete with the gigantic seventeen-inch CRT monitor that occupied most of the desk. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome to dink around on my computer if you want,” I told him. “It’s ancient, but it does what I need it to do, albeit slowly.” I gave him an apologetic smile. “Reeeeally slowly.”

He looked over at me with a huge grin as though I’d given him a pony for Christmas. “Thanks! You’re the best.”

“Maybe you should reserve judgment until you try it out,” I said, then winced as he plopped down in the chair and nearly fell off as the seat tipped. “Sorry. You need to watch out for the chair. It has a mind of its own, but I tell myself it helps me improve my core strength.”

“Gotcha.” He carefully resettled on the wonky chair and pushed the computer’s power button. It coughed, made a weird screeching whine, then finally settled to a vaguely unsteady whir. “This’ll do great,” he told me with a brilliant smile.

“That will keep him occupied for a while,” Bryce said as we left Paul with the finicky machine and went on to the kitchen.

“Zack picked up some clothes for you and Paul,” I said. “Let me know if you need anything else or if stuff doesn’t fit.”

“Thanks. It’s been a pretty surreal couple of days,” he confessed. “I seriously thought I was dead and in some bizarre afterlife.”

“With equally bizarre food,” I added with a laugh.

“No shit.” He grinned. “But most of it was damn good, so I learned to get past appearance pretty quickly.”

“Yep. The cat turds,” I said and gave him a knowing nod. I got out plates and silverware. “You mind dishing up food? I need to make sure Mzatal has what he needs.”

Bryce took the top off the slow cooker. “No problem.”

“Thanks. I’ll be right back.” I went out back and stopped at the top of the porch stairs, watched Mzatal walk an expanding spiral around the point of confluence. I descended the steps and approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt him.

From the woods I heard a strange whooping call followed by a whistle. Eilahn. I’d once asked her what she did during all the time she spent in the woods when I was home. She’d given me a pitying look, as if I was mentally challenged, and told me, “I am with the trees,
of course
.” Silly me.

Mzatal finished another loop of the spiral, then looked over to me. “I believe it is possible to develop the confluence into a convergence and subsequently create a rudimentary nexus.”

I moved to him. “What does that mean in layman’s terms?”

“If all transpires as intended, it will give me an anchor point of potency, which should considerably increase the length of time that I am able to remain on Earth.” He stroked my cheek with his fingertips. “It will also be of use to you as a resource, though much greater once you have mastered the shikvihr.”

A layer of my tension eased. “That’s awesome,” I said. Anything that allowed him to stay longer was good with me. “Do you want my help with any of it?”

Mzatal gave me a fond smile. “It would not be possible without your aid, zharkat.” He shifted his attention to the sky as though considering something there. “In perhaps an hour we can begin.”