Legacy of the Demon (49 page)

“Yep. I call him Boss.” I grinned. “Because we both know who the real boss is.”

•   •   •

Upstairs, Pellini had conscripted everyone with a working pair of hands into an assembly line for measuring, cutting, twisting, and trimming makkas wire. I told him that we were going to ground zero to get the valve and the flow of mutagen under control, and said nothing about Xharbek. Pellini, as usual, accepted the info I gave him and didn't press for more, even though it was clear he knew there was more to it.

“We're bringing DIRT in on this?” he asked.

“Just our squads,” I said. “We'll muster at the fairgrounds. That's far enough away from ground zero for everyone to stay safe while they get issued makkas and instructed in the whys and hows of wearing it.”

“Which are?”

“Against the skin. Probably should be taped down and worn under sleeves so they don't accidentally get ripped off.” I paused. “I'm also going to talk to Boudreaux.” Not only could we use his help, but it was time.

Relief flowed over Pellini's face, as if he was finally letting go of a worry—one he'd been holding onto ever since he decided to approach me about the arcane. Boudreaux and Pellini had been partners at work and best friends the rest of the time, and I'd become the main obstacle between them.

But all he said was, “Good,” and left it at that.

* * *

•   •   •

I made the call from the privacy of my bedroom.

“Boudreaux here.”

“It's Kara Gillian.”

He paused barely an instant before replying in an acid voice. “So, what can I do for Your Royal Witchiness?”

“It's time for me to tell you the truth.” I didn't have to explain about what.

“The truth?” He let out a harsh laugh. “You mean your version of it.”

“No. The
truth.
I'll tell you what really went down at the Farouche Plantation that night. I only want one thing in return.”

“Fuck you, Kara,” he shouted. “We're not trading favors here. I'm not giving you shit for doing what you should have done a long time ago when I asked you straight to your face!”

And more than once. He'd
known
I was lying about not being involved in the plantation raid that ended with his mentor Farouche dead and his stepfather Angus McDunn in hiding from the police. Even worse, he'd known I was withholding info about the whereabouts of his mother—whom I suspected had gone to ground with McDunn.

“My favor to you is that I'll finally answer straight to your face,” I said. “I'm on a pretty tight timeline, so you'd have to meet me at St. Long Elementary in twenty minutes. But if I talk to you in person, you'll know—without any shred of doubt—that I'm telling you the whole truth and nothing but the truth.”
Including why it had to happen
, I added silently.

I heard his intake of breath. “Yeah, well, I'm pretty good about knowing when people are full of shit,” he said, blustering with the faintest trace of uncertainty, likely rattled that I knew about his little knack for getting people to tell the truth. “What do you want from me?”

“Round up volunteers from your squad for a mission that's going down in about forty-five minutes and have them assemble at the old fairgrounds,” I said. “If you determine I'm lying, you're done, and they can go home. But if you determine I'm telling the truth—whether you like that truth or not—you and your team join the mission.”

“What kind of mission?” I could practically see his eyes narrow.

“Incursion at Ground Zero.”

“I didn't get notification of a new rift.”

“It's not a rift. Look, are you in or out?”

“Yeah. Sure, what the fuck.”

“Good. See you in twenty.”

•   •   •

He was at the abandoned school, smoking under the portico, when I arrived. As I walked up, backpack in hand, he tossed the half-smoked cigarette down and crushed it out with the toe of his boot.

“Let's get this bullshit over with,” he said with an ugly curl of his lip. “Some of us have real work to do.”

I dropped the pack beside a nearby bench then sat, deliberately letting him have the advantage of height. Boudreaux's career as a cop had been far from stellar, but the one thing no one could knock him for was his ability to get information and confessions out of suspects. It wasn't coercion either. There'd been a number of times when he'd interviewed a suspect and then come out and said the guy didn't do it. Didn't always go over well with the brass, especially when they were looking to make a fast arrest and close the case, but Boudreaux was always right.

I'd felt the force of his little knack for myself a few months ago, when I was arrested for the murder of J.M. Farouche. I'd resisted Boudreaux's influence at the time, but it had been hard as hell to hold back the unfiltered truth.

It was going to be even harder for him to finally hear it. Boudreaux had been a skinny kid with an amazing way with horses and big dreams of being a jockey, and James Macklin Farouche had been his mentor and benefactor. After Boudreaux nearly died in a racing accident, Farouche had moved heaven and earth to make sure he recovered as fully as possible, and even built him a house right by the stables. He'd been Boudreaux's idol, and for good reason.

And now I opened up to Boudreaux's influence, embraced the urge to unburden myself and told Boudreaux that, just as he had a special
knack
for gleaning the truth, this man he worshipped had also possessed a knack—one that allowed him to instill paralyzing fear in others. I went on to describe how Farouche had wielded his talent to influence, coerce, and terrorize other knack-gifted people to do his bidding, including kidnap, torture, and murder. And then I explained how Angus McDunn, who'd served as Farouche's right-hand man, used his own talent to enhance those knacks. Or, in my case, diminish.

As I spoke, Boudreaux's cocky sneer flickered and faded. I
paused at intervals to give him a chance to stop me, but though his eyes filled with increasing anguish, he kept signaling me to continue.

I told him about the women Farouche had ordered kidnapped, and how I took the place of a targeted victim to infiltrate the plantation and rescue Idris Palatino.

I told him about the Mraztur using the valve node at the plantation to come to Earth, and of the resulting battle.

I told him how Kadir dragged Farouche from the mansion, looked deep into his mind, and declared his life forfeit.

I told him how Bryce, ex-hitman for Farouche, intervened and claimed the right of vengeance, and how Farouche tried to influence Bryce in that moment and bring him back under his control.

I told him how I watched and did nothing while Bryce shot Farouche in the head.

And, finally, I admitted that, when Boudreaux had been frantic with worry about his missing mother, I'd purposefully withheld my suspicion that she'd fled with her husband, McDunn. At this, triumph flashed through the pain in Boudreaux's eyes. Though it lasted only the merest fraction of an instant, it was enough to tell me that he knew something of the current whereabouts of McDunn and his mother.

I fell silent. The urge to speak was gone because there was nothing left to say. Boudreaux stood like a statue, looking at a spot on the wall behind me. The anguished expression was gone. Now he simply looked bleak.

“Boudreaux, I—”

“You'll have your volunteers,” he said in a voice scraped raw.

I had to hand it to him—he didn't like the truth one bit, but he wasn't one to welch on a deal. “We're rolling out to ground zero in less than fifteen, but I know it'll take longer to get horses ready, especially with this.” I shoved the backpack forward with my foot. “There's a . . . magic radiation at ground zero that'll mutate just about everything, but the stuff in here blocks its effects. You and your people need to wear the bracelets against the skin. I suggest duct taping them down. There's some for the horses and the dog, too. It all needs to be securely in place before y'all head to ground zero.”

He fished one of the crude wire bracelets from the bag and eyed it doubtfully. “I thought you said we were dealing with an incursion?”

“I lied. We're going there to save the world.”

His gaze snapped up to mine. “Jesus,” he muttered. “You're serious, aren't you?”

“I am.” I pushed to my feet. “Get your people ready as soon as you can so you don't miss the fun.”

An eerie quiet enveloped downtown Beaulac, as it had since a week after the valve explosion, when demon incursions put an end to search and rescue operations. Though at least by that time there'd been no more hope of finding anyone alive.

Cleanup efforts had, of course, never begun. Rubble remained where it had fallen. Broken glass glittered in the sun, and cars remained where they'd been abandoned.

As our vehicles neared the quarter mile perimeter of the valve, I ordered a halt. The color and texture ahead was
wrong
. I scanned with my binoculars, suddenly very glad I'd stopped the convoy.

It was like gazing into an alien landscape. The twisted and broken concrete looked as if it was covered with an undulating snot-green mold, and crimson vines snaked over everything like capillaries. And everywhere, movement. Rats? Inky black shiny rats?

We'd stopped near what was left of the First Bank of Beaulac, a good fifty yards from the edge of the weirdness. Elinor and Turek remained in the vehicles while everyone else piled out. Alpha and Bravo squads hustled into formation on the cracked sidewalk.

“Don't engage unless you have to,” I told them. “But if you do, hit 'em fast and hard. Your primary job is to keep the demons away from us. Except for this one.” I signaled Turek to come out of the APC. He'd
very
reluctantly donned a bright red XXL “SuperSwole Gym” t-shirt—with the sides slit to accommodate his massive chest and multiple arms, and the neck widened for his big head. He'd acquiesced only after I explained that precious
few humans would be able to tell him apart from any other savik. Hell, there were still plenty who couldn't tell a kehza from a reyza. “He's an ally,” I continued, “and the only demon you'll see out there wearing a red shirt. Do
not
shoot him.” I paused to let the message sink in before continuing. “Bravo squad will approach the valve from the east with Idris and Pellini as arcane support. Alpha will move straight in from here along with my team. Once we reach ground zero, Idris and Pellini will close down the valve and stop the mutagen flow. My team and I will be working close by. I don't know what's going to happen when we start adjusting the valve, so be prepared for anything.” That was the closest I could come to warning them that we were walking into a trap set by an increasingly unscrupulous demahnk.

As soon as Bravo squad moved out, Bryce ushered Elinor from our vehicle, making sure she kept her face hidden within the borrowed hoodie. We needed to keep her presence secret until it was time to reveal her as Xharbek bait, and the makkas bracelet she wore only blocked arcane sensing. Beneath the hoodie, she had on a set of my combat fatigues along with a pair of my boots—an outfit that had thrilled her to pieces but would also hopefully fool any demonic watchers in the area.

Bryce had surprised me by volunteering to serve as Elinor's bodyguard, merely saying that he felt like he needed to come along. Since his
feelings
were usually right on the mark, and since Elinor didn't have the slightest whiff of tactical training, I gratefully accepted his offer.

Elinor and Bryce tucked into the unit's formation behind Szerain, Turek, and me. Sergeant Roma snapped orders to Alpha squad, and we cautiously advanced into the strange terrain.

Very
strange. Rakkuhr crawled everywhere like foggy pythons. As we proceeded forward, the street became oddly pliant, akin to a rubberized track surface. The grass that had been finding its way through cracks now shied away from our approach—which was better than the neon purple daisies along what was once the sidewalk. One lunged and sank thorn-teeth into Ahmed's boot before he could jerk back, leaving several embedded in the leather.

Rat-roach creatures with shiny black carapaces and glowing red eyes scurried away from us to hide in crevices. One sought refuge among the Dastardly Daisies and suffered numerous bites before it could scramble free. A perfectly normal-looking
sparrow regarded us from atop a tumble of moldy bricks then belched a tiny gout of flame that crisped a tendril of crimson vine.

Yet throughout it all, in odd contrast to the weirdness, the air was filled with a pleasant clean and citrusy scent.

We were halfway to the valve when a mass of at least a hundred rat-roaches swarmed from beneath a crushed bus and scuttled toward us. Kowal took them out with her flamethrower before they could get close, then dealt with a cluster of hedgehog-sized horseflies in the same fashion. An Irish setter poked its head out of a gap between chunks of concrete, but as it emerged, it revealed a grotesquely long, serpentine-yet-furry body supported by a few dozen normal dog legs—complete with a wagging tail at the hind end. It started toward us, expression eager, then slunk away as I brought my pistol up to bear.

“Jesus.” Pellini's voice cracked on the word. I looked over to see him lowering his gun as the dog-ipede retreated. “Glad I didn't have to shoot it, but maybe I should've anyway.”

“Right there with you, dude,” I replied and fought down a shudder.

Elinor pivoted slowly, taking it all in. “Such havoc Xharbek has wreaked for no just cause,” she murmured. “That
asshole
.”

Bryce cast a sidelong glance at me along with a hint of a smile.

I grinned. “Indeed he is.”

The road became squishier the farther we went, until it was like memory foam on a giant trampoline. Rakkuhr drifted fifty feet overhead in thick, low-hanging clouds shot through with streaks of black lightning. There'd been no sign of the rat-roaches since the flamethrower incident, though dozens of other oddities kept us on our toes.

We were less than a hundred feet from the valve when a reyza flew over. Weapons snapped up and stayed trained on the demon as it landed atop a partially crumbled building.

My eyes narrowed. No gold, and nowhere close to rating even a one on the Gestamar size scale. “That's not a Jontari.”

“You're right,” Szerain said. “That's Kajjon. One of Amkir's.” His gaze traveled over the area, then he lifted his chin. “And the reyza perched in that caved in window is Rodian. Jesral's.”

I caught a glimpse of a small kehza before it ducked around a corner. Good grief, these demons looked downright
puny
after dealing with the Jontari and a certain imperator.

Roma moved up beside me. “Did the demons put their younglings out for us to fight?”

“No, these are a different kind,” I said. That was easier than trying to explain the difference between lord-allied and Jontari. “They may be smaller, but they're
smart.
Geniuses with teeth and claws. Don't underestimate them. And for every one we spot, there are probably two or three more out of sight.”

“Good to know.”

As we neared the ruined PD parking lot, Alpha squad deployed to provide cover and suppress demon interference, even as Bravo squad signaled that they were in a solid flanking position to our right. From that same direction, I spied Pellini and Idris picking their way around a cluster of Biting Begonias on their way to the valve.

With Turek and Bryce following, Szerain, Elinor, and I headed to a spot across the street from the valve and what had once been the Grounds For Arrest coffee shop.

Now it was grounds for a nest. A shop-sized nest riddled with tunnels, made of trash glued together with a glistening amber resin. An awful scritch-scratching noise came from within, and my brain helpfully supplied an image of thousands of the rat-roaches lurking in the darkness. Gee, thanks, brain.

Szerain drew crackling potency to his right hand, ready for a strike. In silent accord, we moved on to the vacant storefront next door. This was bad. Bad-bad-bad. If these various vermin could not only mutate, but set up house and multiply in less than a day, Earth would be overrun before the week was out. Ants. Earthworms. Birds. Fish. Tigers.
People
. If we failed to get the mutagen shut down, we'd be in deep shit.

Bursts of small arms fire clattered here and there—the squads dealing with threats. Szerain continued another dozen feet to a relatively clear spot then began to dance the shikvihr. He needed the solid potency boost for his part in this. While Elinor fidgeted in a broken doorway, I tugged gloves on—since I needed my arcane abilities intact—then prepped the makkas wire into lassos. I wanted it to be as simple as possible to wrap Xharbek up in the stuff .

By the time I had a lasso ready in each gloved hand, Szerain's shikvihr was complete and ignited. Elinor drew herself tall and stepped out into the street, hands in tight fists by her side, likely to keep them from shaking.

Within the spinning rings of the shikvihr, Szerain raised his
hand and called Vsuhl to him. I cursed under my breath in dismay. That wasn't in the game plan. Surely he didn't need the damn demon knife in order to break the bond.

Or maybe he did. Breaking the ptarl bond wasn't going to be a walk in the park. It was hard to blame him for wanting all the arcane support he could muster. To him, the knife was a powerful and well-established tool in his potency toolbox, like the shikvihr.

How the hell am I ever going to get that blade away from him?

Elinor looked over at Szerain and received a small nod of encouragement, then shot her gaze to me. She was scared but appeared determined not to chicken out.

I hurried to a nearby spot by a pile of rubble then gave her a smile and a thumbs up. “You got this,” I said. “Just remember—we're literally soul sisters.”

She blinked in surprise then brightened. “So we are!” Resolute, she took a deep breath, shoved the hood back, then gripped the makkas bracelet that kept her from Xharbek's notice and pushed it up and over her sleeve.

Crouching, I watched and waited, lassos ready in my grasp.

A demon bellow sounded from around the corner, followed by shouts and three shotgun blasts. Rifle fire cracked in the opposite direction as a pair of kehza beat their wings in hard flight toward the cloud cover.

Xharbek's here
, I thought yet still startled when he appeared only a few feet from Elinor. He was in Zack form, but his sneering smile was one the true Zack had never worn. Rakkuhr swirled around him though it stayed at least a foot away, as if he had an invisible rakkuhr-blocking shield. He stepped toward Elinor, but the triumph on his face only lasted a fraction of a heartbeat before it shifted to black fury. I didn't have to be a mindreader to know he'd sensed the firewall and realized she was ruined for his purposes.

Elinor backed away. He moved as if to pursue, then flinched, though nothing physical had touched him.
Szerain
. A second later, Xharbek staggered and gave an incoherent cry that echoed through me with a strangely familiar sense of chaos.

Szerain stood as pale as a corpse, hands raised above him, clenched on Vsuhl. A shudder passed over his body, and I could practically see the bond shredding.

Xharbek stumbled and went to one knee even as Szerain let
out a heartrending scream and crumpled. He wasn't unconscious, but it was clear he couldn't
do
anything.
So much for Szerain having the advantage by being the one to break the bond.

Xharbek was affected though, which was all I needed. I lunged up from my crouch with the lasso ready to drop over his head. But before I'd covered half the distance, he shoved upright and flung out a hand, smacking me with a blast of arcane that sent me flying back a good twenty feet to land in the street.

The air whooshed from my lungs, but the rubbery concrete saved me from broken bones. I rolled to my side and struggled to get my breath back as Xharbek let out a shriek of pent up frustration and visceral hatred. His face twisted—literally—shifting from Zack to Carl to a rookie cop whose name I couldn't remember to a state representative to at least a dozen other faces, male and female, none of whom I recognized. Through each change his eyes stayed wild.

“No more,” he shouted, voice hoarse and furious. “Fuck the lords! Fuck all of you! Be it known that the hybrid spawn have destroyed themselves and you human insects with them.”

He vanished.

“Kara!” Bryce was there, helping me to my feet. “What the hell just happened? That wasn't Zack, was it?”

“Xharbek,” I wheezed then staggered as Elinor threw her arms around me.

“He is vanquished!” she cried. “How brave you are!”

“No, he's not vanquished,” I said. His
Fuck the lords
still reverberated through my mind. “He isn't done with us yet.” I cast a wary look around even though I knew I wouldn't see him coming.

Elinor released me and cast her own worried glance around. “Is he not restricted from doing us direct harm?”

“Yeah, but he's also
crazy.
” Would Xharbek even give a shit about the constraints anymore? Especially since he wasn't as restricted as the other demahnk. He'd already increased the rakkuhr flow from this valve and added enough mutagen to disrupt life as we knew it. If he cranked it open more, would we be able to stop it?

A faint ground tremor set the crimson vines quivering. Turek let out a croon of worry as he cradled Szerain in both sets of arms. My
This Is Really Bad
feeling climbed higher.

The street vibrated but not like the tremor. A car engine
revved, and I spun to see a military light utility vehicle racing our way, tires squealing oddly on the rubbery street surface as it careened around rubble.

That's Jill
, I realized in shock and dread. There was no reason for her to be driving here like a bat out of hell unless something horrible had happened to the others.

She screeched to a stop less than a dozen feet away then flung herself out of the vehicle, breathing hard.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Bryce demanded an instant before I could say the exact same thing. Worry twisted his face as he ran to her, easing only slightly when he noted the makkas taped onto her arm.