Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian)

by Diana Rowland

  With my psyche thus soothed, I began to dance the shikvihr. The first six rings flowed out of me without hesitation, igniting perfectly and carrying the deeper resonance that showed they’d been culminated by a demonic lord—like hitting the enter key on a computer. They drifted in slow rotation around me, a foot above the ground, colors shifting and sparkling.

  The seventh ring poured from me effortlessly as well, each sigil joining harmoniously with the next as I traced and danced. I felt the grove activate with Kadir’s arrival, but I ignored it, utterly focused. Nine sigils, ten. I’d never played sports, but I knew now what it meant to be “in the zone,” because I was dead center. Even the awareness that Mzatal watched from beyond the outer ring didn’t faze me. I had this shit.

  I traced the eleventh and last sigil in the ring, ignited the series, then looked over at Mzatal with a proud and silly grin on my face. “Pretty, ain’t it?”

  He moved carefully through the rings, hands behind his back as he assessed. “Well done, zharkat,” he said with a warm smile.

  “Thanks,” I said, exultant. I wiped sweat from my face with my sleeve. “Now hook ’em up so you can send me to Earth.”

  He chuckled low. “We must work on your lack of assertiveness, beloved.” He kissed me lightly then moved behind me, draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against him. I leaned back and carefully followed his method as he wove the rings together. Without this step, the seventh ring was little more than a pretty circle of sigils.

  “Now ignite the whole,” he murmured.

  I took a moment to savor the accomplishment I’d worked toward for months, then ignited the unified rings in a flare of potency that left me dizzy even as it infused me. Mzatal held me to his chest and rewarded me with a rare delighted laugh that echoed through our connection.

  “That’s even prettier,” I said with a grin as I shifted to face him.

  “So it is.” He held me close and gave me a toe-curling victory kiss, then broke it reluctantly, and nuzzled my cheek. “The ritual will be ready in less than two hours. Ilana will bring you to the nexus at that time.”

  Still smiling, I kissed him soundly then dispelled the rings. “I’d better go bathe and pack.”

  Chapter 4

  I returned to the rooms I shared with Mzatal to find that Faruk had already carefully packed my duffel. To my delight and relief, the sweet faas had not only included my Earth clothing, but she had also selected a variety of the lovely garments made for me here in the demon realm by the clever little demons called zrila. After thanking Faruk effusively for saving me the trouble, I tossed in one or two little keepsakes, then made a quick trip to Idris’s room.

  The faas had straightened up, made the bed, and put clothing away, but otherwise everything in the room was the same as Idris had left it four months ago. I found his hairbrush in the bathing chamber and pulled a few dozen blond and curling hairs from it, then put them and his toothbrush in a small cloth bag. Arcane power was cool and awesome, but DNA testing was pretty damn neat as well, and I intended to find out once and for all if Idris was my cousin.

  I put the cloth bag in my duffel, then had nothing to do but wait with zero patience for the ritual. At long last all was prepared, and Ilana transported me down to the black sand beach near the nexus, saving me the walk down the bajillion stairs that hugged the cliff face. Running up them had become an almost enjoyable mind and body clearing ritual. However, it also cleared the pores with gallons of sweat, and since I didn’t really want to arrive back home a sodden mess, I expressed my deep gratitude to Ilana once we arrived on the beach. Though I didn’t see her, I knew Eilahn was somewhere close by, watching.

  To the right the waterfall ended its five hundred foot plummet into a deep sea pool. To the left stood a large raised circle of basalt surrounded by eleven dark columns—Mzatal’s nexus. Unlike the utilitarian nexus Rhyzkahl and Jesral had created in the rainforest, this structure had stood for millennia as an augmented arcane hotspot that capitalized on a convergence of power flows. Eleven was the “magic” number for arcane work in the demon realm, based on the eleven lords, the qaztahl, who kept it all flowing. Above the surface of the nexus a hundred or more floaters of brilliant colors twisted and drifted, while Mzatal and Kadir stood on the far side, deep in a debate over the best means to finalize the section of sigils before them.

  I felt the readiness of the ritual, the thrum of potency. Cold fear threatened to pry its way in, warning me of the perils of entering a ritual, especially one that had been formed by one of the Mraztur. I trust Mzatal, I reminded myself. Besides, there was no fucking way I was going to show fear in front of Lord Creepshow.

  By the time I reached them, the debate between the two lords had been settled. Kadir stood back, his eyes on me, saying nothing, which was fine with me. Mzatal took my hand, and together we stepped onto the basalt and into the vortex energy of the nexus. I paused a moment, clung to his hand while I recovered my equilibrium, then moved carefully with him through the floaters to the center.

  Mzatal laid his hand against the side of my face, caressed my cheek with his thumb. “I have much to do to prepare for my own departure,” he told me, “but I will be here, awaiting your summons, in twenty-four Earth hours.”

  “You’d better be,” I said, smiling. “I don’t want to have to hunt you down.”

  Kadir moved in my peripheral vision, and I riveted my focus on Mzatal’s face to help me avoid all thoughts of Creepshow’s involvement. After a lovely moment of saying goodbye, Mzatal released me and retreated to the perimeter of the diagram. Together, he and Kadir walked the full circle, then ignited the floaters with a dizzying rush of upward spiraling energy.

  When I felt the ritual set, I slung the strap of my duffel over my shoulder, smiled and blew Mzatal an exaggerated kiss. “See you soon, Boss.”

  The ritual coalesced around me like viscous slime, icy cold and smothering. My smile disappeared as alarm shot through me. This wasn’t right. I’d been summoned twice before and both times it felt like being dragged through shards of glass. Hideously unpleasant, yet this was far different. Worse, even though it didn’t have the same flaying pain.

  The energy wrapped around me like the coils of a snake, squeezing the air from my lungs. I fought to suck in a breath, to move, to twitch, abruptly reminded far too much of the confining potency that had bound me during Rhyzkahl’s torture.

  Mzatal and Kadir continued to work the flows side by side, focused and calm as though everything was going exactly as planned. But whose plan? I wondered as I fought against the rising panic. Suffocation sure as hell wasn’t in mine. Had Kadir found a loophole in Mzatal’s careful agreement? The potencies held me fast, pressed me inward upon myself, squeezed the breath from me. I struggled, consumed now with the need to get the hell out of the center of the nexus, to move, to do anything to stop this.

  I felt Mzatal’s intimate touch flow through me, urging me to peace. Felt him. Felt the calm assurance.

  It wasn’t enough to overcome the stab of primal terror, the memories of Rhyzkahl’s vile blade parting my flesh as I was held bound, immobile, far too similar to how the slime held me now. I tried to scream, to plead with Mzatal, but had no breath to do so.

  Still Mzatal persisted, suffusing me with his steady presence, flooding me with reassurance and calm. He spoke, and though I couldn’t hear the words, I read them upon his lips, felt them in my core.

  I am here, zharkat. Peace, beloved. Here, Kara. Here.

  The panic slipped away, and I extended, met his eyes.

  He lifted his hands and thrust them downward in a final gesture. The world twisted and, with a wrenching pull, the constricting slime and sunlight above gave way to weightlessness in silent, icy darkness. Cold seared through my bones, froze even the concept of movement. No sound, no scent, nothing but the void.

  Warmth touched me, bringing a rippling discomfort like circulation returning to a limb. A moment later, I felt something solid beneath my feet, sensed my
legs buckling. Pain shot through my knees and palms as I caught myself and gasped in precious air.

  I heard a man’s voice. A shocked curse. Ryan. Still breathing hard, I looked up in time to see him leap to his feet from where he’d been sitting on a futon in my basement. His laptop nearly dumped onto the floor as he did so, but he managed a lightning fast save, then slung it without further regard to the futon. “Kara!?”

  Finally catching my breath, I sat back on my heels, gave Ryan a grin, and put aside evil thoughts of how I was going to kill Mzatal for putting me through that. “Miss me, sweetie?”

  He rushed over and crouched beside me. “You okay?” he asked, eyes searching me for any indication I wasn’t. “I had no idea you were coming.”

  “I’m good,” I said. “It was a rough and weird ride, but I’m good.” I gave him a grateful smile as he helped me to my feet. “Nice to see you again.”

  His face lit with a smile and he pulled me into a hug. “Missed you around here.”

  Smiling, I wrapped my arms around him, took in his familiar scent. “I missed you too. It’s good to be back.”

  He released me then hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the futon and other furnishings at the far end of the room. “And yes, I’m living in your basement,” he said, his tone colored with apology.

  “You certainly are,” I said with a wry smile. Ryan and Zack had moved in when I was captive in the demon realm to help keep the place up, as well to be immediately on hand in the event of any new developments. Both were FBI agents, my friends, and so much more. Ryan was the exiled demonic lord Szerain, forced to live submerged as an unaware human, and named kiraknikahl—oathbreaker—by the demons. Zack was his demon guard and guardian, as well as my best friend Jill’s boyfriend and baby-daddy. I had no idea if Zack and Jill had discussed cohabitation, but considering that Jill was a pretty damn private person and that Zack needed to be living with or very near Ryan, I doubted they were shopping for a new house.

  I swept my gaze around the basement, noting the evidence of manly habitation. Stacks of work files on the table, a pair of socks under the edge of the futon, a new small dresser and wardrobe against the far wall, an open bag of chips on the side table, trousers draped over the chair. I had a sudden hysterical image of Zack telling Ryan to take his mess downstairs where no one else had to see it. Not that it was really messy. But it was definitely lived in. “So. The temporary arrangement became more permanent?”

  Chagrin flickered across his face. “Well, we thought that with everything going on with you and the demons, it’d be good to have a solid base of operations.” He drew a breath and released it in a rush, looking like a man desperately hoping to sell a wild idea. “Somewhere secure for you to come home to and for us to work from when you’re gone.” He tugged a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture. “And yeah, I know we didn’t ask. Hope you’re not mad.”

  It hit me. Hard. These people were my friends, put their own lives aside and gave a shit about me, for real. Sure, I’d already known that in an intellectual way, but something about having it demonstrated so clearly hit me right in the warm-fuzzy-feely parts. And, damn it, I liked the idea of having Ryan around.

  “Mad? Hell no,” I said with a broad smile. “That’s one of the coolest things anyone’s ever done for me.” I thumped him in the chest. “But don’t think I’m changing my morning groggy-sometimes-bitchy, pre-coffee routine just because you’re here.”

  Ryan laughed. “I hope not. You wouldn’t be you without it.”

  I looked him over. He wore navy blue sweats and running shoes, and the hair around his ears was damp, leading me to think he’d recently showered. Four months, and still much the same. Short wavy brown hair with a hint of red, rugged yet handsome face, and green eyes flecked with gold. But there were also new lines of strain around his eyes. “You resting okay?” I asked.

  “It’s been a rough few months, but I’m all right.” He made a dismissive gesture and focused on me with earnest intensity. “What’s next on your agenda?”

  Nice change of subject, Ryan. I let it slide for now. “You know that Idris got taken by Rhyzkahl’s gang, right?” At his nod I continued, “Well, yesterday, they sent him back to Earth, I’m assuming to better hide him and probably for some other as-yet-unknown purpose as well.” I scowled. “I’m here now to do what I can to track him down and stop whatever the hell else is going on.” He frowned and opened his mouth to comment, but I held up a hand. “And, as soon as I have my storage diagram charged up, I’m summoning Eilahn. Then tomorrow night, Mzatal.” The storage diagram was basically an arcane “battery” that helped me stockpile potency. Damn handy since that meant I wasn’t restricted to summoning only on the high potency days of the full moon.

  “You have a pretty full plate,” he said with a sympathetic smile. “And you still look a little shaky. Maybe you should sit down for a few.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s a little after eight p.m. You hoping to summon tonight?”

  He had the shaky part right. I headed for the futon and let out a sigh of relief as I plopped down. “As soon I can get the diagram charged and my head clear.”

  Ryan sat beside me and shifted half-sideways. Closer than friend distance and not as close as a lover. It was comfortable and right—for now. There was too much hidden. Ryan didn’t know he was Szerain, and I hadn’t known it until relatively recently, well after we’d already developed a rapport and even a relationship, albeit a rocky one. Now, I knew Szerain existed, fully aware, beneath the overlay façade of Ryan, even if Ryan didn’t. It made things interesting between us.

  “When I was here before, I told you about Katashi going over to the Mraztur.” I said.

  He nodded. “Right. He betrayed Mzatal, was his sworn summoner, had his Mark and all that.”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure his people here on Earth are the ones who have Idris.” I gave him a hopeful smile. “Anything you and Zack could dig up with your FBI resources would be a huge help.”

  “Sure, no problem,” he said without hesitation. “We can do info-scrounging.”

  “Thanks. Mzatal made a list of his known associates. It’s in my bag somewhere. I’ll dig it out for you later.” I abruptly frowned as my gaze rested on a diagonal wall and door nestled in the far corner. “Ryan. There’s a door in my basement.”

  “Yeah. Basic bathroom and shower. Figured it couldn’t hurt anything.” He cleared his throat. “We’ve made a few, uh . . . other additions too.” He gave me a wide smile. “By the way, you look pretty damn good.”

  Change of subject number two. Noted. My mouth twitched in amusement. “Thanks. I work out. A lot,” I said, then grinned. “Me. Working out and actually wanting to.” It sure wasn’t that way before I went to the demon realm. Jill used to have to drag me kicking and screaming to go for a run.

  “Inconceivable,” he said with a laugh. His eyes travelled over me. “And your hair is different.”

  Puzzled, I reached up and touched my hair. “Oh! The faas—blue furry demons that look like dog-sized lizards—won’t let me style it myself anymore. Possibly because my idea of style is to stuff it into a ponytail.”

  His face softened. “You’re really okay. And the lord . . . Mzatal. He’s treating you right?”

  “He treats me very well,” I reassured him. “And I’m learning so much. It’s amazing.”

  “Good. I’m glad.” He even sounded like he meant it, despite the jealousy Ryan had displayed in the past concerning both Rhyzkahl and Mzatal. Tension rose in his face, the muscle of his jaw working. “And what about Asshole?”

  I didn’t need to ask. He meant Rhyzkahl. My mouth twisted in a scowl. “He’s alive and well, working closely with Jesral.”

  Ryan froze, face reflecting angry darkness. “Jesral,” he said through clenched teeth. Ryan didn’t know Jesral but Szerain did. From the vehemence that laced the name, I had no doubt Szerain had punched his way through the overlay to express his animosity. Then Ryan sucked in a breath, shook hi
s head as though to clear it, gave me a flicker of a smile. “Sorry. Things have been weird since you left.”

  I covered his hand with mine, squeezed lightly in reassurance. “I bet they have.” And I knew the starting point for the weird times even if Ryan didn’t. When my aunt Tessa summoned me home from the demon realm four months ago, Ryan was in the basement with her. I arrived with Vsuhl, Szerain’s essence blade in my hand, and its presence triggered Szerain to try and recover the blade; empowered him enough to fight his way out of the submersion. For a few heart-pounding minutes, he’d been free, a hundred percent Szerain, until Zack submerged him again. But Zack didn’t seal Szerain’s prison as tightly as before and intentionally left the “lug nuts” loose, as he put it, on the mental grate that held him down. That meant Szerain was able to surface more in small ways, where the previous standard had been for the Ryan-overlay to eclipse Szerain on all levels. That had to be shaking up Ryan’s world. My heart ached for him.

  “It’s going to be all right,” I continued. “I know it is.”

  He turned his hand over and closed his fingers around mine. “Sometimes I’m not so sure. It feels like I’m going crazy.”

  “You’re not. Promise.” Since I couldn’t tell him why I knew that, I decided it was my turn to change the subject. “Is there any food in the house? I could use a bite.”

  Ryan managed a smile. “Yeah. Sure. I think there’s some leftover meatloaf in the fridge from last night. Zack keeps us in groceries, and he’s pretty much claimed your guest room.” His grimness slid away into amusement. “See what happens when you abandon us?”

  “Hey, at least there’s food!”

  Ryan stood and tugged me to my feet. “Yes, there’s actually something in your fridge besides a block of mild cheddar cheese and expired milk. C’mon.”