Legacy of the Demon

by Diana Rowland

  Chapter 34

  My gaze skimmed the tops of dark green waves as I swiveled the periscope. Pellini came into view, wearing a Speedo and surfing on the back of a bright purple whale. The sigil on his chest glowed neon green. I scowled. Why the hell wasn’t he wearing a life jacket?

  Weeeeeeeeeeee clatterclatterclatter chunkchunkchunk wrrrrrrrrrrr

  I frowned at my submarine crew. “What was that?”

  The crewmembers waved tentacles and clattered wings in reply. My first mate blew out a stream of bubbles, and I hurried to pop them to hear her words. “He lost the petunias, Admiral Commander. Now the prisoners know too much.”

  “What prisoners?”

  “The ones in the prison, Admiral.”

  CLUNK whooosh clatter.

  “Fuck!”

  The dream popped and vanished like one of the first mate’s speech bubbles. Prying my eyes open, I struggled to place the weird sounds that had woken me.

  “No, you need to repressurize the air canister to—don’t tangle that cable! C’mon, we don’t have all day to be fiddle-fucking around with this. Kellum, hold that steady while Greitz resets the motor.”

  That was Bryce, sounding mega-stressed. The net, I realized. The noise was him test-firing it. Because today was Summoning Day. Whether I was ready or not.

  “Like Christmas, but with more bloodshed,” I muttered.

  Be lordy. Right.

  Groaning, I flopped onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. It was made of dozens and dozens of narrow boards that were all meticulously linked with tongue and groove joints. Every wall and ceiling in my house was like that. Hell, the whole house was a marvelous example of construction done right, with every section planned in detail and built with care and precision by my grandfather. One of our security guards, Bubba Suarez, had an extensive background in construction. He’d once spent the better part of a rare morning off going through the house, from attic to basement, making manly noises of appreciation for details I’d been blissfully unaware of but apparently made an enormous difference in the structural integrity of the house.

  “You got yerself a mighty fine place here, Miss Kara,” Suarez had announced. “Keep up the maintenance, and this beauty’ll last ’til the Mississippi dries up, s’long as a twister don’t hit it dead on.” And then he went to gaze adoringly at the brickwork in the fireplace.

  Experience told me that my summoning diagram needed to be as solid and precise as this house. Every piece doing its part and working together as a perfect whole for maximum strength and stability. Easy. Except that I had only a handful of scattered and incomplete references that could tell me how to create it. Szerain expected me to do the most difficult and dangerous summoning of my life without any sort of blueprint. Me, who’d only ever summoned “tame” non-Jontari demons. It would be like trying to build a mansion, sans instructions, after only building doghouses.

  The one thing that kept me from descending into full-blown panic was the essence-deep knowledge that Szerain believed I could pull it off. Since I couldn’t possibly learn it in time, I needed to know it.

  I struggled to wrap my brain around knowing the entirety of a major and unfamiliar summoning but gave up when my eyes began to cross. All right, what if I broke it down into its components? That was much less head-hurty.

  I knew how to open a portal. That was the same no matter what kind of creature was being summoned. Same with the call, the command to appear, though this one would require way more oomph—like fishing with braided monofilament instead of dinky ten pound test. However, the nexus would provide all the power I needed.

  It was the bindings that stopped me dead and left me cold. When push came to shove, I had to admit that I’d never done real ones before. The protections I’d always laid were sturdy enough to hold a weak demon, but for any creature with more than a smattering of arcane skill, they’d be about as effective as chains made of construction paper. I needed to know how to contain a Jontari imperator, but I had no foundation to draw on. I was expected to chain the beast with only the barest knowledge of metal.

  No, it was even simpler than that. I was trying to make electricity without knowing to wrap a copper wire around a magnet. Once I grasped that missing core aspect, that spark, I felt certain that my experience would fill in the rest. If I could just find one complete drawing or description of a full old-school diagram with protections designed to contain a mega-powerful creature, then I—

  I jerked upright. The outreach center! Peter Cerise built a diagram there to summon and bind Rhyzkahl, who certainly counted as a mega-powerful creature. Even when Cerise was bleeding me, I couldn’t help but admire the exquisite brilliance of what he’d created, unlike anything I’d seen before. Too bad I’d been a bit preoccupied and unable to give it a close examination.

  Crime scene photos would show the diagram, I thought then immediately abandoned that idea. The Crime Lab had been reduced to rubble when the PD valve blew.

  My smile grew. But Peter Cerise had used my blood to paint the sigils. With the right equipment, I should be able to see every single one.

  “Oh, Kara, you so awesoooooome,” I sang. With any luck, I’d find that core nugget of info I needed to summon the big bad demon and rescue Elinor.

  After coffee, of course.

  I tugged on a sweatshirt and shorts, dragged fingers through my hair then shuffled to the kitchen. Janice sat at the table, coffee in hand as she watched news footage on a tablet. She had on black fatigue pants and a green, long-sleeved shirt that bore a computer company logo and looked exactly like a shirt our tech whiz Lilith Cantrell owned.

  “Crap,” I said as my brain finished waking up. “Forgot to make arrangements for clothes for you. Sorry.” Or any other arrangements, for that matter.

  “No worries.” She shut off the tablet and gave me a light smile. “You have a good crew here. They made sure I knew the drill and had what I needed.” She lifted her chin toward the stove. “There’s bacon and biscuits if you want them.”

  Relieved, I continued to the coffeemaker where a sticky note from Jill told me to check my email. Definitely the best place to leave me a note and guarantee that I’d see it. “We’re lucky to have so many solid people working with us.” I filled and doctored a cup then took a long sip. Go, caffeine, go!

  After a few more gulps to finish waking up, I pulled up my email on my phone and found a message from Jill with a timestamp of five a.m. In other words, after she returned from getting the net with Bryce, she’d stayed up to work on the Korean document. I wanted to show her the sketchbook, but I’d wait another hour or so before waking her.

  Hey K—

  Between the power of the internet and Giovanni’s awesome brain, we translated that doc. Quick summary: There’s a Korean artifact—a stone turtle—that’s actually filled with makkas.

  Since I figured that might prove useful, I searched online with the description from the text, and I’m pretty sure I found it. Even better, it’s currently part of an exhibit at the National Art Center in Tokyo. I’ve attached a picture and a copy of the translated documents.

  J

  Hot damn. Even though there was no possible way to get our hands on it in time for the summoning, I liked the idea of having a stash of the arcane dampening material as a just-in-case. Idris could swing through Japan and scoop it up. Of course, I had zero idea what was involved in “borrowing” part of a museum exhibit, but I had friends in high places—Hello, Madam President—who could pull the right strings.

  And when she inevitably asked why I needed an ancient stone turtle, I’d do what I always did: make up something clever and confusing.

  Pleased, I sent the necessary emails winging their way through the internet then topped off my coffee. As I spooned in more sugar, clanging from the back yard drew my attention out the window to where Bryce and three security guards laboriously rolled up a huge Sk
eeterCheater net. Its launcher squatted on the far side of the nexus, about a dozen feet beyond Rhyzkahl’s orbit. Our mechanic, Ronda Greitz, hunched over the launcher as she tinkered with its inner workings.

  “I just have one question,” Janice said, having politely waited until I wasn’t so obviously busy.

  “Only one?” I smiled, appreciating her courtesy.

  She chuckled. “Okay, I have thousands, but the most burning one is, why do you have two giant boulders in your living room? And what on earth are they made of? It’s no mineral or substance I’ve ever seen.”

  Exhaling, I took a seat across from her. “Each one has a person inside of it,” I said then went on to give her a quick rundown of the “plague” and its phases, as well as its connection to the rakkuhr that was pouring through the valves.

  Janice sobered. “I watched TV for a bit last night and this morning. Mzatal had told me there were rifts opening up on Earth and that Jontari were coming through, but I had no idea there’d been so much or so many.” Her dark eyes filled with worry.

  “It’s bad,” I agreed, “but humans are stubborn assholes, and we still have an ace or two in the hole.”

  One side of her mouth curved up. “We’re pursuit predators.” At my blank look, she went on, “Humans have survived and evolved and prevailed by letting our prey wear itself out. That nice juicy antelope might be fast, but the human hunter simply follows its tracks and keeps going, keeps following until the antelope can’t run anymore. We’re pretty tenacious.”

  “The demons aren’t running away from us,” I pointed out. “And they have claws and teeth, and are dangerous and deadly.”

  Janice leaned forward. “But they’re completely dependent on the arcane.”

  “You’re right about that.” It was one of the reasons summoned demons couldn’t remain long on Earth without some sort of link that would give them arcane support. Eilahn had been able to stay with me because Rhyzkahl had been her link, her lifeline to the arcane. Before the PD incident triggered the flood of potency—and rakkuhr—to Earth, even the lords were limited on the time they could spend away from the demon realm. “Unfortunately, the invading Jontari can draw all the arcane they need from the rifts, not to mention the rakkuhr that’s coming through.”

  She made a face and sat back. “Darn. And here I thought I’d solved all of our problems.”

  “Well, you’re right about us not giving up,” I said with a smile. My coffee cup was empty, so I stood to get a refill. “And on that note, I need to move my ass and start chewing away at my to-do list. Is there anything you need? Didn’t you say you wanted to bring equipment back to the demon realm?”

  Her eyes lit up. “I did. I need computer equipment and solar charging—” She stopped at my wince.

  “Potency levels in the demon realm are hell on electronics,” I said. “However, DIRT has some shielding cases that might help. Give Pellini the list of what you need. If it can be had, he’ll know where to find it.”

  Her smile turned brilliant. “Terrific. I’ll work on that while I have breakfast with Rhyzkahl.”

  Carefully withholding comment, I watched in bemusement as she loaded a plate with biscuits and bacon then headed to the back yard. With only a teensy bit of shame, I moved to the kitchen window and watched her settle under the tree where Rhyzkahl stood amid a weak circle of sigils. In his hand was one of his purple irises, and at first I thought he was going to give it to her as a barf-worthy too-sweet gesture of affection. Instead, he dispelled the sigils and laid the flower at the base of the tree, and only then did he turn and welcome Janice with a smile. He seemed happier with her here, but even though I had zero doubt she’d spent the night with him in his little house, it was clear their relationship wasn’t a romantic one. They enjoyed each other. They were friends.

  It was curious and unexpected. But nice.

  Purple flower. A shiver ran through me. Rhyzkahl had once placed a violet bloom on my pillow, the same type of flower that was carved in stone at a shrine to Elinor in Rhyzkahl’s garden. The same kind he’d used to caress her in the memory-vision, when he called her zharkat and she denied him.

  My gaze swung to the sea of rich purple irises near his house. He still loves her.

  CLUNK whoooosh

  Janice startled as the net shot from the launcher. Fortunately, she and Rhyzkahl were sheltered by the grove tree trunk and safe from getting accidentally netted. Unfortunately, it looked as if a just-summoned demon would be equally safe. The net opened in a beautiful spread then sailed down in a perfect arc to cover a spot a few feet beyond and to the right of the nexus.

  Bryce threw down his work gloves. “FUCK!”

  An exasperated look swept over Janice’s face. “You’re going to kill yourself trying to sight it in through trial and error!” She pushed up and jogged over to Bryce and the crew. Though I couldn’t hear what she said, her gestures led me to believe she was talking angles and force and other physics-mathy stuff that was way beyond my pay grade.

  Good. She was smart and blunt and would get that shit straightened out. Which meant I didn’t have to deal with it.

  I rinsed out my mug then climbed up to the attic to tackle the next item on my to-do list. The bulb remained stubbornly dead when I tugged on the string, but enough light shone up from the laundry room below to let me move around without breaking my neck. Luckily, I didn’t have to go far. On the third shelf of a battered metal cabinet, tucked between a stack of old board games and a broken clock, rested the wooden cigar box that held my summoning implements. I’d retired them after Angus McDunn decimated my abilities, and putting the box away had been symbolic for me. Not because I was convinced my days as a summoner were over, but because I’d realized that I was more than just a summoner.

  My breath shuddered out of me. And now I’m a summoner again. Along with everything else that was Kara Gillian. My arcane ability was only one facet of my identity, but I was stronger for it.

  “Time to come out of retirement, y’all,” I murmured, blinking back silly, emotional tears. I slid the box off the shelf then blew across the top of it, hoping for a cool cloud of dust like in the movies. But clearly two months in a closed attic was insufficient for any sort of decent dust gathering, and the only thing my breath dislodged was a dead mosquito.

  “Eh, it’ll do,” I said with a shrug then tucked the box under my arm and returned downstairs.

  Pellini was at the kitchen table making notes on a yellow pad and munching bacon. As I set the cigar box on the counter, my gaze went to the left side of his face.

  “Who gave you a black eye?”

  “It’s not a black eye,” Pellini insisted. “It’s a small bruise beneath my eyebrow, and Jill gave it to me when we were sparring this morning.” He scowled. “Damn, that bitch is fast and flexible. She did this with a kick while I was standing up straight.”

  “She’s sneaky,” I said, not hiding my amusement. Pellini wasn’t a short guy, but Jill was a former world class gymnast. And I’d been wrong about her going to bed after finishing the translation. “After she finished kicking your butt, did she finally go get some sleep?”

  “She claims she slept in the truck, then said that once the sun came up she had too much on her mind to sleep. About half an hour ago she headed into town on a supply run with Suarez.”

  “Hope Superwoman gets more eggs,” I said.

  “Even better, she’s getting chickens.”

  I did a double-take. “Seriously?”

  “Apparently so.” Pellini spread his hands. “She said that with everything in turmoil and prices going up and all these mouths to feed, it was high time we got as self-sustaining as possible.”

  “Huh.” I gave a slow nod. “I haven’t had a spare second to think about any of that, but she’s right.”

  His mouth twitched. “She did all sorts of research on how to take care of chickens, had
Suarez build a coop and enclosure behind the barracks, and made arrangements to purchase a passel of poultry.” He paused to sip his coffee. “Plus, she’s looking into the feasibility and cost-benefit of maintaining other livestock.”

  “Hang on, you mean like cows and pigs and stuff?”

  “Milk goats, cattle, pigs, and a couple of horses are all on her wish list.”

  I shook my head. “Where does she expect to put them?” Sure, I had ten acres of property, but most of it was woods. Even if we cut down several acres of trees—a thought that sent a pang of grief through me—surely cows would need actual pasture with grass and stuff?

  “Jill’s already considered all of that,” he said. “Turns out that the property behind yours is up for sale, dirt cheap. Forty acres. Sadly, no mule.”

  “Tell me again why we don’t simply have her run the world?”

  “She’d get everything straightened out, that’s for sure. Oh, almost forgot.” He set his cup down and reached into his backpack. “Those Jontari pricks got the gimkrah, but they didn’t get this.”

  My breath caught as he placed a bundle of orange demon silk on the table. “Eilahn’s Halloween decorations!” Tears of relief stung my eyes. “I forgot that we traded backpacks before I went up the column.” I unwrapped the silk from the exquisite garlands. “I need to hang these up before things get too crazy.”

  “I’ll give you a hand with that,” Pellini said. “Are those little figures all demons?”

  “Since technically any resident of the demon realm counts as a demon, then probably so,” I said. “All of the commonly summoned types are here—except ilius, of course.” Even Eilahn would have a tough time carving a figurine of the barely corporeal demon. “But there are a half dozen or so that have me stumped. I’ve never seen or heard of anything like that bird-snake one or the mushroom-head dude.”

  “That slug-squid-octopus-tentacle thing looks . . . interesting.”

  “Maybe Sammy wants a playmate.”

  “Or Fuzzykins.”

  “Ha! Fuzzykins would eat that thing for breakfast. She loves seafood.” I carefully gathered up the garlands. “Let’s get these hung up. I have places to go and demons to summon.”