The Trouble with Demons (24 page)

He regarded me warily. “I’m still on my feet.”

“Solidly on your feet or about to collapse on your feet?”

“I’m not going down for the count anytime soon,” he assured me with a playful glint in his eyes. “What do you want?”

Just spit it out, Raine.

“The other week after I did that link with those kidnapped spellsingers to find out where they were being held—”

“And you were taken inside the Saghred by Nukpana, and you kept an entire stage full of mages from collapsing—all in the same day. How could I forget?” His eyes went from playful to gentle. “Do you have another headache you need for me to heal?”

“Actually, my head’s the only part of me that doesn’t hurt.”

“I can take care of it.” He took a step toward me.

I took a step back. “See, here’s the problem. I really want you to. I ache and I’m so tired I’m about to drop where I stand, but what happened this morning might make the hands-on part of—”

“It won’t be a problem,” he said with quiet confidence.

“It won’t?”

“When I was this close to you this morning, I could feel the pull of your magic. I’m not feeling that now.”

“Probably because I’m so damned tired.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think so.” He extended his hand to me. “There’s only one way to find out.”

I looked down at his hand and then up at him. “Touching is necessary for healing, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

I swallowed hard and extended my hand until it almost touched Mychael’s. He quickly stepped forward and enfolded my hand in his before I could pull away.

I let out the breath I’d been holding. The touch of his hand was a warm and gentle pressure. No fire, no surging magic, no urges. Well, maybe one or two urges, but magic didn’t have a thing to do with those.

I blew out a couple of quick breaths. “Okay, that went well.” I still expected the fire, but it still didn’t happen. “Uh . . . since all of me hurts, what do you have to touch to make it not hurt?”

“I could work with just your hand, but it would be more effective with full-body contact.”

My eyes must have gone as big as saucers.

“A hug would work nicely.” He managed, just barely, not to smile.

Yes, it would. It’d also take care of one of those urges. Still, I felt a little flutter of panic. “Do you think it’s safe?” I was talking really fast. “I mean, I could really use a hug, since I was five times close to death and all that, but what if you—”

In an instant, I was in his arms with my face smushed against his chest.

“And it helps if the patient doesn’t talk.”

I felt his words rumble deep in his chest against my ear. I turned my head and managed to look up at him; he looked down at me.

“Do you know how distracting you are?” he asked me.

“I wouldn’t want you to be distracted.”

“It’s too late for that,” he said quietly.

I meant talking. I don’t think he did.

Mychael pulled me even closer and a slow warmth radiated from his entire body that was pressed full length against mine. A shiver ran through me all the way down to my toes as that warmth flowed through me as if my skin were no barrier.

My breath caught in my throat. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Possibly not,” he murmured against my hair. “But what I’m feeling tells me that you need it.” Mychael’s voice had dropped into that lower, velvety register, softer and more soothing than the barest whisper—his spellsinger’s voice. I felt him smile. “And if your tomorrow’s anything like your today, you’ll need it to survive.”

I nodded against his chest. “Survival is good.”

“I thought you’d see it my way.” He loosened his hold just enough to place his hands carefully on the small of my back. Then with agonizing slowness, he kneaded his way up the length of my back, past my shoulders to my neck, leaving a trail of tingling heat in his wake.

Oh. Yes.

I was intensely aware of the magic flowing out of Mychael into me, and suddenly I saw myself lying on a powdery white sand beach, water that was the tropical sea blue of Mychael’s eyes gently lapping against and over my body, the golden sun overhead warming my bare skin. Something inside me that I’d never known was there took what Mychael gave me and spun it into threads of flickering golden light, fed by that warm seawater and sunlight, and sent it back into him. I felt his breath catch in surprise as it flared to life and spread through his body. We stood pressed together as wave after wave of pulsing light warmed, healed, wrapped around us, joining us together. It intensified, faded, then it was gone. Mychael’s breathing was ragged as he gazed down at me in wonder.

It was what had happened this morning and more, much more.

And the Saghred had absolutely nothing to do with it.

“Ever read about
that
in any of your magic books?” I managed.

“Never had the pleasure.” Mychael’s voice was a husky whisper. “I would have remembered if I had.”

There was a quiet knock at the door. “Sir? Ma’am?”

Vegard.

I laughed quietly. “Vegard can knock. Who knew?”

“He learned his lesson from last time.” I felt Mychael’s warm breath against my temple. “Though his timing needs work.”

Last time. I’d fallen asleep in the bathtub, and Sarad Nukpana had invaded my dreams. Mychael sensed something was wrong and knocked on my door. When I didn’t answer, he essentially disintegrated the door. Vegard had seen me moments later in a towel. Mychael had gotten there first; he’d seen me naked.

Vegard’s combination grimace and apologetic smile told us he knew what he’d interrupted. “The healer is finished with Piaras, sir.”

“Show him in.”

Vegard did and closed the door behind him.

Piaras’s posture was ramrod straight, his chin up, ready to face the consequences of his actions, to accept the punishment for what he did. But most of all he was scared to death and determined not to show it.

“How much trouble am I in?” Piaras was also ready to get it over with.

“You’re not in trouble,” Mychael told him. “Not from me or the archmagus. But you are in danger.”

“Inquisitor Balmorlan.” Piaras had to force his voice to say the words.

“Him, too,” I said. “But mainly Sarad Nukpana.”

Piaras was confused. “But he’s—”

“Yeah, inside the Saghred,” I finished. “Problem is the containment spells around the Saghred are gone.”

Piaras looked at Mychael in disbelief. “They failed?”

“Eaten away from inside over the past few days,” Mychael said. “And our best spellweavers haven’t been able to repair them.”

“Meaning that there’s nothing between me and the souls inside the Saghred,” I told Piaras. “I’ve spoken with my father—and with Sarad Nukpana. Through dreams at first, then in a more direct way, like a voice in my head.”

“Piaras, have you had any dreams about Sarad Nukpana?” Mychael asked quietly.

Piaras swallowed hard, and the pulse throbbed in his throat. That told me all I never wanted to know. Sarad Nukpana was a master of lies, but he hadn’t lied to me about Piaras. The goblin had been inside Piaras’s head while he slept and influenced him while he was awake. He’d taken the first steps to carrying out his threat. He’d made his move, now he expected me to make mine. Get the Scythe of Nen, get him out of the Saghred. If I refused, Piaras’s fate—and his blood—would be on my hands.

I forced myself to stay calm. “Do you remember any of your dreams?”

“Not really. I remembered that I didn’t like them . . .” Piaras shook his head. “But I don’t remember what he told me.” He hesitated. “Or what he did.” Hesitancy turned to horror, but not panic. “What did he do to me?”

Piaras was keeping his head, or at least trying. The next time Sarad Nukpana put in an appearance in my dreams, I
would
find a way to strangle him.

“He may be influencing your actions,” Mychael told him.

Piaras was silent for a few heartbeats. “What I did tonight?”

“You’re good with a blade,” I told him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetie, but you’re not that good. You were fighting two-on-one, and those embassy guards were doing their best to divide and distract. You didn’t fall for it.”

Piaras drew a deep breath; it shuddered as he exhaled. “In practice I still fall for it, don’t I?”

I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah, you do. And when one of them attacked, you didn’t drop your guard against the second one. You kept your vitals covered and your blade moving.”

“But I’ve been working on that in lessons,” he protested.

“And how is it going?” I knew and so did Piaras. As if what Sarad Nukpana had done to him wasn’t enough, now I was making him admit that he wasn’t a good enough fighter to have survived on his own tonight. But the first step to surviving Nukpana was for Piaras to realize just how much danger he was in. No doubt Sarad Nukpana had wanted him to kill that elven Guardian and all of those embassy guards. And no doubt Taltek Balmorlan and the elven ambassador would have come up with a perfectly good reason why their guards were wearing Guardian uniforms—and an even better reason to charge Piaras with five murders.

Piaras’s jaw clenched. “I fought better tonight than in my lessons, didn’t I?”

“A lot better.”

His gaze became distant. “When I disarmed Sir Jari, I knew you were there,” he told Mychael. “But I just couldn’t let him go. Everything was blurry, like I was there, but not really. Some part of me
wanted
to kill him.”

Change of plan. I was going to kick Sarad Nukpana in the balls,
then
I’d strangle him.

“There is a way to confirm that Nukpana was responsible,” Mychael told him. “If you would allow me.”

Piaras stood firm. “Do whatever you have to.”

Mychael went to stand in front of him and put his hand on Piaras’s forehead like he was checking for a fever. Mychael didn’t close his eyes, and neither did Piaras. After a few moments, Mychael’s lips tightened into a thin, tense line. I didn’t have to hear the word to know what he’d just thought. My own vocabulary choice was even more colorful.

Piaras didn’t move. “He’s been in my mind, hasn’t he?”

“He has.”

Piaras didn’t say anything else, but the emotions flowing over his face more than did the talking for him. Fear, helplessness, exhaustion, and rage were all there in spades. Piaras had been on the run with me since this whole crapfest had started. He wanted it to be over with, he wanted the people after him to leave him alone—the kid wanted his life back. All of those would work for me, too.

“But I was the one who killed that embassy guard,” Piaras all but whispered. “Sarad Nukpana didn’t have anything to do with it. I know he didn’t. I’d just conjured the bukas. The guard was trying to kill me to make them go away. Sir Jari and the other two were coming at me. When a buka roared, the guard was distracted. I lunged.” He looked like he was about to be sick. “I killed him.”

“Before he could kill you,” Mychael said. “It was self-defense.

In another second it would have been three on one. You eliminated a threat to survive.”

Piaras ran a hand over his face. “From live threat to dead in the street.”

“You did what you had to do,” I told him. “You did
nothing
wrong.”

“The three of them rushed me; I had no choice.” He said it, but he didn’t believe it.

My gut twisted. “No, you didn’t have a choice. Just because Balmorlan wants you alive doesn’t mean those elves wouldn’t have killed you and called it an accident.”

I shot a glance at Mychael. I’d known Piaras for years, but I had absolutely zero experience talking a young man through the guilt of his first kill. As Guardian commander, I hoped Mychael did. He’d better.

“Piaras, do you still want to be a Guardian?” Mychael asked solemnly.

“More than anything, sir. But . . .” He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, they were glistening with tears he was determined not to shed.

Mychael gave no sign whatsoever that he noticed. I was glad Piaras wasn’t looking at me.

“But what, Piaras?” Mychael asked.

“I don’t think the Guardians still want me.” He said it so softly I barely heard him. “I killed a man tonight; I wanted to kill a Guardian, I put half the Guardians in the citadel to sleep last week, and most everyone on the island probably still thinks I tried to assassinate the archmagus. People are afraid of me, and some of them are Guardians.” Piaras looked like he was about to be sick. “They don’t need to be afraid of me. I don’t want them to be.”

“Piaras, they were afraid of me, too,” Mychael told him.

“Uh, you’re their commander, sir. Aren’t they supposed to be?”

“I said
were
afraid. Now I have their respect. Changing from one to the other took time. You’ve only been here two weeks.” Mychael paused. “Piaras, look at me.”

Piaras hesitated a moment and then met Mychael’s eyes.

“The Guardians were established to protect the Conclave, defend the Isle of Mid, and administer justice to any mage who would use his or her powers to bring harm to others. The city watchers are qualified to deal with most cases.” Mychael’s smile was grim. “That leaves the nasty ones for us.”

“Like Sarad Nukpana?” Piaras asked.

“Exactly like him. And one thing you can always count on is that every last one of them will fight back with any weapon at their disposal. Sarad Nukpana is inside the Saghred; that limits his options. He is incapable of physical attack, so he attacks the mind. As a Guardian, you would be trained not only to defend yourself against such attacks, but to strike back and defeat your adversary.”

“But why did he want me to kill Sir Jari?”

“Nukpana’s influence—”

I interrupted. “Mychael, I’m the reason he’s attacking Piaras; I should be the one to tell him why.”