I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I could feel the rush of air through my lungs, taste the dust of the place, feel the warmth of my expelled breath on my lips.
But I knew without a doubt that I was dreaming.
I’d been here before in dreams—once, no, twice on the roof with Rhyzkahl, and other times somewhere nearby—though they’d never been as vivid, as real as this. I didn’t know what exactly this place was—a keep, or fortress…something like that, nor did I have any idea where it was.
Only this time I’m completely aware that I’m dreaming. That’s a first.
Maybe I’d been thinking of Rhyzkahl as I fell asleep? Had I unwittingly called him to my dreams? Considering the various revelations of the day, it would be understandable. Yet if that was the case, where was the demonic lord?
I put my hand out to the wall. I am dreaming…right? Frowning, I lightly scraped my knuckles against the stone—not enough to draw blood, but enough to scratch the skin and send a light twinge of pain through my hand. Fear tightened my chest. Maybe I’ve been summoned… ? But surely I’d be aware of that. It’s just a dream, I fought to reassure myself. I’d been in other sendings from the demonic lord that were indistinguishable from reality.
But why is this all so screamingly familiar?
The silence seemed to press down on me, but I wasn’t quite brave enough to shout, Hello, or anything like that. Even though I felt a deep certainty that I was the only living creature in this keep, and that I wasn’t really here, I’d seen enough horror movies to know that I could be quite wrong about both.
The corridor ended abruptly, opening into a vast hall lit only by dust-filled spears of sunlight coming from windows high on the walls. Surprised, I stood in the entrance to the corridor and took in the sight. Heavy tables and benches of dark wood filled the center of the hall. A higher table, that could easily seat forty, ran along a wall opposite an archway. Two chairs at the center of the table were intricately carved with scroll work and patterns I couldn’t quite make out, though both bore harsh slashes that revealed the lighter wood beneath the varnish—deep gouges that had to have been made by an ax or a seriously heavy sword. I tasted mildew in the air, and a pungent scent of rodent droppings made my nose twitch.
I’ve been here. Through the archway on the right were the kitchens, and the entrance to the left led to a corridor that would take me to the great doors of the keep. And the stairs in front of me.…I balled my hands into fists as memory surged through me—this hall filled with people and scurrying servants. Laughter and song. Meat and wine. Fighting and blood.
Then it was gone, leaving only the echoes of shrieks and raucous calls skittering through my mind.
I breathed in shallow pants, turning slowly. If this was a dream, it had to be one sent by Rhyzkahl, since he had a link to my dreams. In which case he was…what? Wanting me to find something? Figure something out?
Screw horror movies. “Rhyzkahl?” I called out. Goosebumps skimmed over my skin as the walls took my call and flung it around in scattered echoes. Gulping, I held my breath, waiting for the demonic lord to make an appearance.
Nothing. He wanted me to figure this out. Or I was completely wrong about this sending being from him. Either way, I had no idea what I was supposed to do or how to wake myself up.
Fine. I had some sort of inexplicable shadow memory of this place. Time to use it. Turning, I made my way back up the corridor at a jog. I stumbled once on the stupid skirts I was wearing, and I grabbed them with both hands, feeling absurdly like Cinderella running down the stairs at the stroke of midnight—if Cinderella had been in a weird abandoned castle-thing, sent here by a demonic lord with an agenda.
Snarling, I ran up a broad flight of stone stairs—or rather I ran about halfway up, then had to slow down and catch my breath. Great, even in my dreams I needed to be in better shape. But I don’t have far to go. I think.
The stairs took me to another hallway. No windows here. Shadows swam along the floor and walls, but at the end of the hallway were a set of double doors, where whispers of light seeped from the cracks. I broke into a jog again, seized the handles and pulled. The doors were giant, heavy things of metal and black wood. They opened grudgingly, but once I had them moving they swung open wide.
“Holy shit,” I breathed.
I thought at first that the room was round, then I realized it had about twenty sides—facets of polished grey stone that should have reflected my image back at me but didn’t. Every other wall held a lit lantern, which made the room seem unusually bright after the gloom of the hallway. But I took that in almost as an afterthought.
It was a summoning chamber. There was no doubt about it. A diagram similar to the one I used had been precisely etched into the darker grey stone of the floor, though it was easily twice as large as mine, and it had certain differences that I couldn’t quite make out. But the most remarkable thing about the room was the sculpture in the middle of the diagram—or rather what remained of it. On a broad circular base nearly three feet across was a statue carved out of a black stone with flecks within of something that sparkled. Like obsidian crossed with granite. I assumed it was a woman—though it was difficult to be certain, since it stopped at the waist. Long skirts swirled around her bare feet, and a hand clutched the fabric, broken off above the elbow.
The upper portion of the torso lay smashed and scattered about the room, no remaining piece bigger than my thumb. I let out a soft moan of grief for the loss of such incredible work. I bent to examine the intricacy of the sculpture that remained. I’d always been impressed by the statues from the Renaissance and the realism of the draped fabric in marble, but this totally kicked Michelangelo’s ass. I peered at the design on her skirts. It was an intricate, twining pattern…
I heard a scrape of noise from behind me, and I whirled. I caught a fleeting image of someone standing in the doorway right before something hard struck me in the chest—
* * *
I jerked awake, hands flying to my breastbone as I gasped in a ragged breath, absolutely certain I’d feel a crossbow bolt or a dagger sticking out. Nothing there except for a phantom tingling. I rubbed the heel of my palm against my chest and sat up, gulping for breath in the welcome crush of relief. Just a dream. I wasn’t summoned in my sleep.
It was still dark outside, but the alarm clock on my nightstand showed that it was a few minutes before five a.m. Didn’t matter. I knew I wouldn’t be doing any more sleeping.
The house ticked with silence as I padded to the kitchen to make coffee. Maybe I should head into the office. Or the gym. Anything to distract myself right now. I was trying hard to go to the gym at least once a week. More often it ended up being every other week—just frequently enough for me to be sore all over again from working out. I needed to do something to keep myself from thinking about the dream and everything else that had been revealed to me. I’d wanted answers, and I was possibly getting them, but in horrible vague ways that only made things more confusing. What the fuck did any of it mean?
I actually got as far as pulling my gym bag out of the hall closet when the front door opened. I spun, holding the gym bag in front of me like a shield. Eilahn stepped in, then gave me and the bag an amused look.
“Are you planning to defend yourself with sweaty clothing?” she asked, closing the door behind her.
I lowered the bag, abruptly realizing that I had forgotten to take my yucky gym clothes out of the bag after the last time I’d worked out. Which had been about two weeks ago. Okay, might be safest just to throw the whole bag out at this point. “I thought you were still asleep,” I said.
The demon suddenly grinned. “I have been busy. I have a surprise for you!” She darted forward and seized my hand, tugged me toward the living room. “Close your eyes!” she commanded.
“Um. Seriously?” I asked, eyeing her dubiously.
She stopped and frowned. “Yes. You must close your eyes. I am quite certain that this is how surprises are rev
ealed.”
Smiling weakly, I complied. The demon continued to lead me forward.
“Now, open them!”
I did so. And stared. “Wow.” I didn’t know what else to say.
The demon was practically vibrating in excitement. “Is it the correct sort of tree?” she asked. “Are the decorations appropriate? I perused many magazines and websites in an effort to determine what would be the best look for this space.”
“Eilahn. It’s…perfect!” And it was. She’d acquired a tree—the most symmetrical and perfect blue spruce I’d ever seen—and decorated it with white and blue lights, tiny gold stars, sparkly balls of dark blue and red, and silver ribbons. Pine garlands made graceful swoops along the wall near the ceiling, with delicate paper snowflakes hanging from them. Dark red ribbon had been painstakingly tucked around the door in exquisite swirls, topping the door with a perfect bow. On the desk, she’d placed ceramic figurines of angels, and red, green, and gold candles of every shape and size filled the mantel, gracefully accenting the pictures already there.
And in the corner by the fireplace, stood a brand new Kitty Kondo, with Fuzzykins perched on it as if to say, “Yes, I did all this.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “I can’t believe you did all this in one night!”
Her grin was ecstatic. “And there’s more!” She took me by the hand, then stopped, fished the cuff out of my bag by the door, and snapped it around my wrist. “Close your eyes again!”
Laughing, I obeyed and allowed myself to be led outside and down the steps. About a dozen steps away from the house she turned me around and announced, “Now, open your eyes!”
It took everything I had to keep from bursting out laughing as I took in what she’d done to my house and the immediate surroundings. Where the inside decorations had been lovely, tasteful, and utterly beautiful, the outside was…well, I had a feeling my house could now be seen from orbit. The roof was barely visible beneath the carpet of lights, “icicles” of more lights streamed down the sides of the house, and a gigantic Santa—complete with waving arm—filled the porch. Surrounding the house were blow-up snowmen, enough reindeer to pull ten sleighs, giant candy canes, and several neon-green trees that flashed in chaotic patterns.
Eilahn looked at me expectantly. “It’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen,” I said, completely truthfully. “I love it,” I said, and I even meant it. Sort of.
On impulse, I gave her a hug and was more than a little surprised when she hugged me right back.
“Now I need to ask you something of a more serious nature,” I said after we finished with the hugging stuff.
In an instant she was back to being the serious demon bodyguard. “Let us return inside. You are barefoot, and it is chilly.”
Demon bodyguard Mom. I hid a smile, returned inside, and continued on down the hallway to the kitchen. “It’s pretty obvious that whoever’s behind these murders is some sort of arcane practitioner,” I said as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “And considering that I was attacked by that graa—”
“Yes,” she interrupted. “I believe you were also dosed with something, though I do not believe it was exactly the same substance as the other victims.”
I turned around. “Um. Yeah, I had this whole long explanation that I was going to use to convince you that the whole thing was related, but I guess I don’t need to go into that now.”
“You do not. I also believe that the cuff has been muting the effects.”
“Right,” I said. “Because, as far as I can tell, I’ve gone batshit at least three times—I threw my coffee at Roman, I attempted to molest Ryan, and I went off on Rhyzkahl.” I grimaced. “And each time it’s been when I wasn’t wearing the cuff.”
“Yes. And I do not believe that any of these were specific, directed attacks—merely episodes brought on by the loss of inhibitions that this drug apparently causes.”
“In other words,” I said, “you don’t think I was drugged specifically to make me want to sleep with Ryan.”
Her mouth twitched. “I think that, with the cuff off, your normal iron self-control was lowered.”
I snorted softly and sat at the table. “The question now is, what the hell do we do about it?”
“We should go eat pancakes,” the demon said.
“Pancakes?”
She nodded firmly. “Everything is better with pancakes.”
“I’m not about to argue with you,” I said. “You making?”
“No,” she said with a smile. “You are buying.”
Chapter 14
Lake O’ Butter pancake house was fairly well populated at seven a.m. on a Tuesday morning, though fortunately there still seemed to be a few available tables. Probably another hour before they really hit a rush, I figured. The welcoming scents of butter and coffee hugged us as we walked in, along with the clatter of plates and the clipped commands of the short order cook. Formica tables looked like they’d been salvaged from a fire sale, the vinyl chairs had more cracks than an old woman’s heels, and the silverware was usually battered and bent, but the pancakes were fluffily sinful, the cooks used real butter, and the blueberry syrup was made from a patch in the owner’s back yard. For breakfast it was nothing short of luscious. Lunch or dinner was another matter entirely. I’d only made the mistake of ordering a tuna salad sandwich here once.
A waitress grabbed menus, and gave us a thin-smiled order to follow her. I started to comply, then paused at the sight of Roman at a table in the corner. He had his back to me and papers spread out on the table in front of him. Guilt shuddered through me at my behavior the other day. “Eilahn, give me a minute, okay?”
She followed my gaze, gave a slow nod. “I will order coffee for you,” she said.
She knew me too well.
Taking a deep breath, I walked to his table. “Hi, Roman.”
He lifted his head, gave me an uncertain and cautious look. He looked tired and had a faint dusting of stubble on his chin. “Er, hi, Kara.”
“I’m sorry,” I said in a rush. “I don’t know why the hell I did that to you yesterday.”
Giving a self-conscious laugh, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe because I deserved it?” He gestured toward the seat opposite him. I slid onto it, relieved, then shifted as a wayward crack of vinyl poked my backside.
“No, you really didn’t,” I said as I found a more comfortable spot. “People ask for that sort of thing all the time. And, to be honest, we do it all the time. Not fixing it, but it’s not that tough to get tickets reduced, depending on your driving record. That sort of thing.”
“It’s all right,” he said, meeting my eyes. Some of the fatigue seemed to have cleared from his expression. “I can afford it, and I was speeding.”
“Okay, but still,” I said, “last time I checked, the standard punishment for speeding didn’t include getting scalded with hot coffee.”
He cast his eyes upward, and pretended to consider. “Well, maybe when you factor in court costs… .” He chuckled and dropped his eyes back to me. “Seriously, though, apology accepted.”
“Thanks.” I skimmed my eyes over the papers in front of him without being too obviously intrusive. There was a stack of what looked like account statements, and some letters that looked like they were from law firms. “What’s all this? One of your investments?”
“Something like that,” he replied. “I’m part owner of an industrial park on the northeast side of town, and I’m trying to see if anything can be done with it that’ll allow us to turn a profit.” His eyes shadowed. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m not with ESPN anymore.”
I winced. “No, I hadn’t heard. Um, was this your decision?”
His broad shoulders lifted in a shrug. “I was asked to ‘voluntarily’ resign earlier this spring. Personality conflicts.” A scowl briefly crossed his face before being wiped away by a sardonic smile. “So now I’m looking for other opportunities for a beat-up ex-football player.”
“You’ll land on your feet,” I assured him.
“I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said, smile turning warm. “But yeah, I’ll be all right. I have money put away, and I’ve made some good investments that will keep me comfortable for a long time.”
“Sounds like something I need to start doing,” I said with a grin. “I need me some lifetime security.”
He chuckled. “I’d be more than happy to set you up with my financial advisor.”
Snorting, I shook my head. “Dude, I appreciate the thought, but right now I think I have an extra seventy-three dollars in my checking account that I could spare.”
“All the more reason to talk to a professional,” he said with a knowing tilt of his head.
“You have a point,” I conceded. “Are you still leaving town tomorrow?”
He wrinkled his nose in annoyance. “One of the shareholders is dragging his feet on signing some paperwork. I’ll probably be here another week.” He glanced at his watch and winced. “Speaking of, I’m about to be late for a meeting about that project.” He began gathering his papers up, but paused to give me another smile. “I’m glad to see you’re doing so well, Kara.”
“You too, Roman,” I replied.
He slid his papers into a briefcase and stood, then leaned over to give me a kiss on the cheek before turning and walking on out. Mouth pursed in thought, I watched him go. He’d changed a lot in the years since we’d briefly dated. Silly of me to expect him to be the same person. I sure as hell wasn’t.
I stood, made my way over to the table that Eilahn had staked out, dropped into a seat.
“All is well with your former paramour?” she asked.
I picked up the menu. “Seems to be.” The waitress came over to fill my coffee cup. I gave her a grateful smile, then proceeded to add sugar and creamer. I waited until the waitress walked off, then looked back up at the demon.
She opened her mouth to speak, then paused and turned to look at the door. I followed her gaze to see Zack and Jill enter the restaurant. Zack hadn’t changed in the weeks since I’d seen him. A bit less tan perhaps, but his hair was still as pale-blond as if he spent every day on a surfboard. Which, supposedly, he did during the warmer months, though now that I knew that he was a demon I had to wonder how much of that was true and how much was simply cover story.
Sins of the Demon Page 16
