Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) Page 12

  “He’s talented and powerful, and the faction we’re trying to stop kidnapped him because of that.” I took a deep breath. “The ritual murder of his sister was to enforce his cooperation and set an arcane trap for me.”

  “Fuck,” Pellini breathed. “And he thinks I might be an enemy. No wonder he looks like he wants to skin me.”

  “Even if you’re not an enemy,” I said, choosing my words with care, “you’re a potential threat. You have unusual skills, and you don’t know what the hell’s going on.”

  Pellini threw his hands up in frustration. “I can’t do shit. Sure, you can’t move the energy the same way, but so what? Fat lot of good it does me. And maybe it’s best I don’t know who’s who in whatever this war is. I didn’t ask for any of it.”

  “I stand corrected,” I snapped. “You’re a potential threat and a danger to yourself and others because you’re untrained, and you have no fucking clue. This war is heating up and isn’t going away.”

  Anger flashed across his face, but before he could retort he jerked back in his chair as if grabbed by an unseen hand. His eyes went wide, and his face blanched paper-white.

  He’s having a coronary! I barely had time to form the thought before the same force grabbed me and pressed me down in my seat like a lump of iron above a giant magnet. An attack? On the other side of the table Bryce gripped the arms of his chair, breath hissing through his teeth. Idris stood on the nexus, unaffected.

  Fury burned away my shock. Idris was doing this to us. It had to be an unplanned assessment of Pellini. I seethed as I forced myself to breathe through the pressure. He could’ve at least given Bryce and me some goddamn warning. Or, better yet, found a means that didn’t suck quite so hard. As arduous as it was for me, it was exponentially worse for Pellini since the ritual targeted him. Guilt swam through me as panic and agony contorted his face. No matter the intent for inviting him to my house, he was a guest. This was so not how we did shit in the south. And what if this gave him a heart attack for real? Oh, so sorry we KILLED you.

  The pressure eased, only to be replaced by the unnerving sensation of being naked while fully clothed. Comprehension clicked into place. The naked sensation was the complete lack of the arcane. Idris had pulled it all away from Pellini in order to make a true evaluation of him. Bryce and I had the crappy luck to be caught in the area of effect. Didn’t change my level of pissed-off, but at least I knew what was happening.

  It stopped as quickly as it had begun. Like a stretched rubber band returning to normal, the arcane snapped back into place. From the roof Eilahn let out a shriek of rage, dropped to land in a crouch by the porch then bounded to me, concern twisting her features.

  “I’m okay,” I told her as soon as I caught my breath, then turned to where Pellini gasped like a stranded fish. “I’m sorry,” I said with deep chagrin. “I swear I didn’t know that was going to happen. Are you all right?”

  He lifted a trembling hand to wipe sweat from his face, mouth pressed tight as if about to vomit. I subtly scooched my chair back a few inches. Just in case.

  From the nexus, Idris cursed as he closed down his ritual, obviously not at all happy with whatever he’d learned. I forced down my residual anger at his methods. One way or another, we needed to know what Pellini’s deal was. The stakes were way too high to have an unknown player on the field, even if he insisted he wasn’t playing the game.

  Bryce staggered to his feet and peered at Pellini with concern. “Breeeeathe,” he told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. Pellini inhaled noisily then blew out hard, but his next breath was more controlled. The grey cast left his face, and a hint of normal color crept in.

  After a moment he lifted his head with obvious effort. “God damn,” he croaked.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

  Pellini managed to straighten. “Why . . . ?”

  Idris bounded up the stairs. “Bryce, watch him,” he ordered with a jerk of his head toward Pellini. “Kara, with me.” He beckoned imperiously and moved to the far end of the porch.

  Pellini scowled and tried to stand, but Bryce touched his arm and gave a slight head shake. “Probably best if you sit until you get your color back,” he said, tone mild. Pellini’s scowl deepened, but he settled back in the chair. Though he’d been around Bryce for less than an hour, he had enough cop-sense to recognize him as a man of action with skills honed by ugly experience.

  I was dying to tell Idris what he could do with his imperious beckoning but since I really did want to know what he’d discovered I went ahead and followed him.

  “I hope that stunt was worth it,” I said with a black scowl, though I kept my voice low.

  “He’s marked by Kadir,” Idris replied matching my scowl and volume. “Head to foot. Inside and outside. Even with all potency stripped, he reeks of Kadir’s resonance.” Suspicion darkened his eyes. “I don’t know what he is, but I know he absolutely can’t be trusted.”

  The declaration put my back up. “I agree that we don’t know what he is, arcanely,” I said, “But the not trusting him part doesn’t necessarily follow. He said ‘Mr. Sparkly’ came to him in his backyard, which leads me to believe it contains a valve.”

  “And I intend to check that out,” Idris said. “However, right now this dude needs to be locked down.”

  I counted to five in my head. “Yes, he’s a loose cannon and a potential threat,” I said. “He can stay here until we know more or can train him.”

  Outrage flashed across Idris’s face. “Train him? That’s like loading a gun and passing it to the enemy!” He flicked his hand out as if brushing my comment aside. “You don’t know that he’s untrained.” He sneered. “You’re taking his word for it.”

  My hand itched to smack the sneer off his face. “I’ve known the guy for a long time,” I countered hotly. “If he’s a mole he’s a damn good one. But, hey,” I continued, loading my voice with sarcasm, “maybe we should kill him to be on the safe side.”

  “I didn’t say anything about killing him,” he shot back. “But I do say lock him down in the demon realm until he’s cleared. Neither of us knows what Kadir could pull off through him—even if he’s as innocent as he claims to be.”

  “Right, because locking a potential threat down in the demon realm worked out so damn well when you and Mzatal did that to me.” Or had he forgotten that they had, in fact, fucking kidnapped me? And that it nearly ended in disaster when I escaped? “Sure, send him to the demon realm where he can be closer to Kadir. Great idea!”

  A vein pulsed near his temple. “Yes, closer to Kadir, but away from people and places on Earth!” Tension held his shoulders stiff as he took a step toward me. “You don’t seem to get it. Kadir set him up to use him here.”

  Lifting my chin, I held my ground and matched his anger with my own. “And Rhyzkahl set me up to use me,” I replied in a snarl. “You remember how close Mzatal came to killing me because of that?”

  “I remember,” he said. “I also remember that, against all odds, he rescued you after he spared your life and you ran to Rhyzkahl.” His eyes went stone cold. “If he hadn’t pulled you from that ritual, the Mraztur would have turned you into Rowan, and everything would be fucked.”

  I could only stare at him, gut punched by shock. “You . . . you think it would’ve been wiser for him to kill me?” I managed to reply, literally trembling. “You who were under the influence of the Mraztur for months?”

  “I’ve been cleared,” he snapped. “And I didn’t say he should’ve killed you. I just want you to get what we’re dealing with and the potential damage that could come from the wrong decision.”

  “I do get it, Idris,” and I managed to not add you condescending fuck to that. “Trust me, every time I look in the mirror and see the scars, I get it. But even so, I think it’s really shortsighted to lock up everyone we don’t understand or who might pose a threat. If you want to make more enemies, that’s the way to do it!”

>   “This is not simply someone we don’t understand!” He flung his arm in a harsh gesture toward Pellini. “Kadir has imprinted him. Kadir. One of the goddamn Mraztur.”

  My eyes felt hot and gritty. “Your solution is to lock him down indefinitely all because he played in the wrong goddamn patch of sand when he was a kid.”

  “Until he’s cleared,” Idris corrected, but I saw in his eyes that he knew it might not be possible to clear Kadir’s influence from Pellini—and wasn’t swayed by it. “And if his sandbox story is true,” he went on, “then no, it’s not his fault, and that sucks, but we can’t let a time bomb loose out of pity.”

  “It’s not pity, it’s compassion,” I snapped. Learn it, asshole, I added silently. “Maybe we can gain an ally instead of guaranteeing we end up with an enemy.”

  Bryce stalked over and pierced us both with a glare. “Pellini has more fucking sense than both of you put together,” he said, voice scathing.

  “Excuse me?” I asked then realized with chagrin that Idris and I hadn’t kept our voices low. Crap. Pellini heard all of that.

  “He gets that he’s between a rock and a hard place.” Bryce’s glare didn’t let up one bit. “He also gets that the entire situation is dangerous and he’s a danger.” He snorted. “He was smart enough to figure we weren’t going to let him leave. All he’s worried about is his dog alone at his house. You two hot shots need to come to a compromise between damnation and ‘Fly! Be free!’”

  Fuck. It was a sad day when Pellini was the reasonable one. Idris looked similarly chastened by the dressing down.

  “Maybe . . . locked down here, unless he’s with one of us?” I offered.

  Idris visibly fought down his resistance to the elimination of the demon realm option, and I was pretty sure he pygahed. Twice. Maybe three times. “Locked down here?” he finally said. “How?”

  “He moves in here,” I suggested and prayed that Idris’s receptive mood would continue. “If possible he takes a leave of absence from work, and we would reassess as needed.”

  What followed then were negotiations that rivaled the Louisiana Purchase. With Bryce’s not-always-gentle guidance we managed to reach a compromise that kept Pellini from being summarily deported to the demon realm while also keeping him from roaming free. Idris wasn’t happy with it, and I hated screwing Pellini over like this, but it was the best possible compromise in a horrible situation.

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way,” I said to Pellini after everything was decided. “Is there anything you need right now?”

  “Another hamburger,” Pellini grumbled. “The demon ate mine.”

  Chapter 13

  After Pellini ate a replacement hamburger, Bryce accompanied him to his house to pick up his dog and a few days worth of clothing and sundries. An hour later they returned with Sammy, a goofy chocolate labrador retriever with a dangerously exuberant tail. Though uncertain at first with all the new smells, it only took a few minutes for Sammy to decide that having the run of ten acres—full of wildlife to bark at—was the absolute Best Thing Ever.

  Fuzzykins was less keen about the presence of a DOG in her demesne, and wasted no time establishing the pecking order. The silly dog wanted nothing more than to be best buddies with the cat and made many enthusiastic overtures of unconditional friendship. It took a muzzle covered in bloody scratches for him to accept the futility of his efforts. Poor guy.

  Bryce relinquished the guestroom to Pellini and took over the sofa, more to monitor Pellini’s movements than to be nice. Pellini had the run of the property, but surveillance cameras, the perimeter fence, and Bryce’s eagle-eyes kept him under polite house arrest. I gave Pellini the basic tour, set out fresh towels for him, then finally fell into bed long after midnight. At least I didn’t need to set an alarm for the morning.

  Once asleep, I drifted in and out of a weird dream involving giant mosquitoes with human faces auditioning for a talent show. The bizarre scene faded, only to sharpen into a vivid and strange landscape of shifting color and light. Fine threads of lightning coruscated through clouds of energy accompanied by a soft, pleasant crackle. I floated among the clouds, passing through and between them, delighted when I found myself able to choose my direction at will.

  “Kara Gillian.”

  My name slid through me—felt, not heard—and lured me to its source. I reached up to touch my ears but, where my arm should have been, there was nothing but a swirl in the clouds. Gah! Where’s my body? Even as the panic began, I coalesced into a semitransparent shimmery form as though I’d willed it all into existence. I turned my hands over, flexed my glittering fingers. Too cool.

  “Kara Gillian.” The call came again. Closer this time and familiar. I spun toward it and saw Kadir. Sparkly Kadir, composed of a billion twinkling crystals like perfect grains of sand, colorless except for the striking violet of his eyes. Behind his left shoulder drifted a man, semitransparent and shimmery like me, and an equally shimmery Paul knelt close to Kadir’s right leg.

  This was some dream.

  “Wow, Paul,” I said. “You look really good.”

  Kadir laid his hand on Paul’s head. “Kara Gillian.”

  The resonance of my name drew me more into myself. “Yo, Kadir. ’Sup?” I laughed and threw a mock gang sign. “Weird having you in my dream.”

  Kadir drifted closer. “Wake up.”

  The command echoed through every fiber of my being. The surreal landscape leaped into greater clarity. In shock, I recognized the shimmery man behind Kadir as a much more trim Pellini. Everything felt utterly real—not like a lucid dream anymore. Sonofabitch. Kadir had called me into Pellini’s out-of-body wonderland.

  Pellini gestured toward Kadir. “Mr. Sparkly.”

  “I see that,” I said, cautious and alert now. How much time has Pellini already spent with Kadir tonight? “What’s going on?”

  “Chaos,” Kadir said, and lightning flickered through the colored energy clouds around us. “My world disintegrates.”

  “So I’ve heard,” I said. “We’re doing what we can on the Earth end, but your friend Katashi is hell-bent on screwing things up.”

  “I am friend to none,” he said. “Isumo Katashi is a necessary component, though he neglects symmetry for the sake of haste. This must be corrected.” He opened his hand and set a mass of wriggling potency strands spinning in the space between us like a glob of entangled worms. A discordant buzz rattled my teeth as if I’d had twenty cups of coffee and was poised to vibrate apart. Kadir passed his hand over the strands, transformed the raw potency into a radiant electric blue sigil. It spun in perfect balance and the buzz lifted to a clear tone. With another pass of his hand Kadir warped it, and it lurched around its axis.

  “Still functional,” he said, “but asymmetry engenders instability.” Kadir blew on it, and the sigil shattered with a sound like a hundred fingernails screeching across a blackboard. His violet eyes met mine. “Asymmetry engenders instability. It must be corrected.”

  Instability. Valves.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said, eyes narrowing. “You don’t have a problem with what Katashi’s doing with the valves, only with how he’s doing it. He’s in too much of a hurry to do it your way.” I gave him a sour look. “In other words, you want me to help you by improving on Katashi’s method.”

  “Yes,” he said. “By symmetrizing the valves.”

  I laughed outright. “Why the hell would I do that?”

  “Because each symmetrized valve impedes his progress and stabilizes the system.” He paused and lowered his head, eyes on me. “This is a desirable outcome for you.”

  Slowing down Katashi might buy us time to find a way to stop him for good. If Kadir was telling the truth. I glanced to shimmery Pellini to check his reaction to all of this, but he offered me a helpless shrug. He probably didn’t know enough about the dynamics to contribute to either side.

  Kadir continued as I mulled it over. “If you do no more than patch valves as they destabilize,
Isumo Katashi will succeed—at enormous peril of catastrophic implosions on Earth.”

  Fuck.

  I hated to agree with anything that had the potential to advance the Mraztur’s cause. But Kadir had unparalleled skill with potency flows and the valves, and had an obsessive interest in stability. What he proposed made sense in a mutually beneficial way, though the benefit for us was short term.

  Kadir’s gaze intensified. “He will risk catastrophe with no qualms. Will you?”

  “You already know the answer to that,” I said with a scowl.

  “I do,” he said. “In this, you are not foolish.” He stroked Paul’s head as though he were a dog at his side, a gesture that left me chilled and unsettled.

  “Paul,” I said, “are you all right?”

  He lifted his gaze to Kadir. “You may speak,” the lord told him.

  Ugh!

  Paul leaned against Kadir’s leg and brought his eyes to mine. “I’m good,” he said. “Not dying anymore.”

  My concern spiked higher at the submissive move. “Not dying is good, unless the alternative is worse.” I drifted closer. “Paul, you need to give me some kind of reassurance.”

  “No,” Kadir said and stroked Paul’s head again. “He does not. All that is required is that you learn to symmetrize a valve.”

  Paul rested his head against Kadir’s thigh and gave me a smile, but didn’t speak again.

  Impotent rage settled into my gut. Kadir had saved Paul’s life, but at what cost? I didn’t want to think of what he’d done to Paul to force such subservience. “Paul, is there anything you want me to tell Bryce?”

  Kadir sparkled brighter then began to disintegrate, even as Paul grew fully transparent. “You may tell Bryce Taggart that this one thrives.”

  “Wait!” I called out. “How am I supposed to learn to symmetrize a valve?” Kadir worked potency in a disturbing way, unlike any other lord or arcane practitioner I’d ever encountered. No way could I figure it out on my own.