Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian) Page 15

  “Right now I’m just worried about Mzatal,” I said, totally ducking having to make a reply to his comment.

  “What’s wrong with the fuc—I mean, what’s wrong with him?”

  I shot him a sour look. “He’s away from his power base, he did a major healing, and he laid a huge smackdown on one of Katashi’s men.”

  “He’s fading,” Ryan said with a slow nod, eyes growing distant. “Shows he shouldn’t fucking be here.” His breath quickened, and his face twisted in agitation. “He shouldn’t be here!”

  “Hey, where’s Zack?” I asked a little too loudly as I recognized an agitated Szerain coming through.

  The distraction worked. Ryan blinked and looked over at me. “Uh, he must still be out front. Jill called when we pulled up, and they sort of got into it.” He winced, shook his head. “There’ve been some pretty rocky times in these last few months.”

  Dismay wound through me. “Shit. Why?” I asked. “They were so into each other.”

  He leaned back against the counter and tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his pants. “He’s not spending as much time with her as he used to,” he explained. “She’s not happy about it, and he doesn’t want to talk about it.” His face twisted in frustration. “I’m hoping he isn’t done with her. In all the time I’ve known him, he’s never been in a serious relationship.” He snorted. “Or even a not-serious relationship. Just some short flings. Nothing stable. Nothing until Jill.”

  “He’s about to be a baby-daddy,” I muttered. “He’d better not be done with her.” Yet I knew the situation was way more complicated than simply his losing interest. Not that I could share those complications with Ryan. You see, your partner is actually a demon, and he’s ditching his baby-mama to deal with your alter ego. “The whole thing sucks,” I said.

  “It’s weird,” Ryan said. “It’s not like he’s afraid of having a kid. I could sort of get it if that was the problem. Doesn’t seem to be, though.”

  “Maybe every now and then you could push him to spend time with her?” I suggested.

  “I’ve tried that,” he replied, mouth twisting sourly. “Sometimes it works. Usually not.”

  “I’ll talk to Jill,” I said with a sigh, then lifted the tray. “Lemme go feed our guest.”

  “Thatcher still unconscious?”

  “Yeah, and I think he’ll stay out until he gets to the demon realm with Mzatal,” I said. “He’s in pretty bad shape.”

  Ryan winced. “Zack told me he took a .45 in the back that pretty much blew out his chest.”

  I started to say something about how Thatcher would have been dead in minutes, but I clamped down on it in time. No way would I be able to explain how Mzatal got there so quickly without mentioning Zack’s teleport ability. Best to let him assume Mzatal had gone to the warehouse with me. “The bullet nicked Paul’s arm too,” I said, glossing over the details of how Thatcher survived. “Speaking of, I’d better go feed him!” I hurried off down the hall before Ryan could ask any more questions.

  Paul was still sitting on the stool by the bed. He looked up as I entered, and a faint smile touched his mouth as he saw the loaded tray.

  “Thanks. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” He tried for a smile and failed. “I’d made a deal with Bryce. If he took me to the warehouse, I’d let him stop at Hamburger Haven for a double bacon combo.”

  I set the tray on the dresser. “When y’all get back we’ll see if we can make a Hamburger Haven run.”

  Desperate hope lit his eyes. “You think he’ll really be able to eat one by then?”

  “He won’t come back until he’s good as new,” I promised. “And I know Mzatal will take excellent care of him.” I paused as I heard Ryan call my name from the kitchen. “Eat up,” I told Paul. “Holler if you need anything.”

  He nodded, and I returned to the kitchen. Ryan stood in front of the window, looking out at the back yard.

  “You bellowed?” I asked cheerfully.

  “You should probably check on him,” he said, with a not-quite-Ryan undertone in his voice.

  I didn’t waste time with questions. I ran out to the back and slid to a stop, dropped to my knees beside Mzatal where he lay prone on the confluence point. “Boss?” I placed a hand on his back. He felt cold, and his aura was so faint I could barely detect it. “Mzatal?”

  He drew a deep slow breath. “Here . . . zharkat.”

  “You doing all right?” I asked, even though I felt that he wasn’t.

  “No,” he murmured. “The confluence is but slowing the drain. I am fading.”

  Fading. The same word Ryan used. “You’re going back now,” I ordered in a don’t-you-even-think-about-arguing-with-me tone of voice. “I already talked to Paul, and he’s okay with going with you. Let me get Eilahn to carry Thatcher out here.”

  Mzatal didn’t argue and instead simply pushed himself to his side and then sat up. Even that small effort seemed to drain him. I ran inside, found Eilahn and asked her to get Thatcher, then hurried to the guest room.

  “Paul, it’s time to go,” I told him.

  Surprise flickered across his face. “Now?” At my nod he set the bunch of grapes he’d been nibbling back on the tray and moved aside as Eilahn entered to get Thatcher.

  “Sorry for the rush,” I said. “Come on out to the back yard, and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  He grabbed his tablet, eyes bright with excitement and perhaps a bit of fear as he followed me. I thought briefly about telling him not to bother bringing the tablet since the demon realm had some majorly shitty broadband, but then realized the tablet was probably a comfort thing.

  Mzatal had managed to stand and waited on the little worn patch of grass with a worried-looking Jekki leaning against his thigh. Paul’s eyes went to Jekki and widened in pure astonishment. Oh, right. Forgot to tell him we had a demon here with us. Eilahn gently placed Thatcher at Mzatal’s feet, and as soon as she stepped back, I moved to Mzatal and kissed him. “Two days,” I told him. “I’ll summon you in two days.”

  He wrapped his arms around me, gave me a deep and lingering kiss, then reluctantly broke it. “Two days. We will be on the nexus.”

  I stepped back, gave him a smile that did nothing to hide my worry. Mzatal gestured Paul to stand close to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. I gave the young hacker an encouraging wink and a thumbs-up.

  And then they were gone.

  Chapter 14

  Prickles of arcane energy flickered over my skin as they departed. I stood for a moment, watched the grass slowly struggle back upright where seconds earlier it had been crushed beneath them. My own life felt that way at times, pushed and changed by forces beyond my control.

  But there are plenty of forces that are within my control, I sternly reminded myself. My life—and what I knew to be possible—had certainly shifted dramatically in the past couple of years, but I was still tough enough to roll with the punches. So far at least. It helped that I had an awesome posse of friends to back me up.

  Smiling wryly, I returned inside. Voices carried from the hallway—Zack’s and Ryan’s—and cut off as the basement door closed with a dull thud. The two would likely be occupied for the evening while Zack tended Szerain.

  The place felt crushingly empty with Mzatal gone and everyone else busy. I’d lived so many years alone, it seemed this should be the norm. But it wasn’t the norm. Not anymore. It was time for me to admit the truth: I liked living with others, both human and demon.

  The bag with all of Bryce’s stuff sat in a lump in the hallway. After tugging on latex gloves, I hauled it to the laundry room, tossed bloody clothing straight into the washer and set his shoes aside, since they didn’t appear to have any blood on them. Also in the bag were his gear and weapons, all of it top quality. The nylon ankle holster and knife sheaths were unbloodied, but the leather shoulder holster that held his gun—a Glock 27, I noted with approval—had quite a bit on it. I carefully cleaned all traces of blood or other gunk from l
eather, gun, and knives, then tucked everything away in a cabinet and returned to the kitchen.

  I scrounged in the fridge for a snack and laughed out loud when I found a plastic snap top container brimming with an Earth version of what I fondly called “cat turds”—Jekki’s demon realm delicacy that tasted anything but turd-like. I put half a dozen on a plate and headed for the living room. I figured I’d peruse Tracy’s journals for a bit then take a nice long hot bath, which I intended to follow with going the hell to bed.

  It was tedious work, not at all helped by the fact that I didn’t really know what I was looking for, and could only hope I’d know it if/when I saw it. After half an hour of munching cat turds and poring through notebooks, folders, and binders, I decided the best analogy was a shopping trip to an utterly disorganized thrift shop. You had to search through mountains of useless shit in the thin hopes of stumbling upon a treasure. Except that in this case, Idris’s life depended on my finding that treasure.

  I fought my way through a notebook with Farrah Fawcett on the cover that contained some excruciatingly bad poetry, and another plain yellow one with what looked like calculus homework interspersed with pages of basic summoning sigils. Tossing those aside in annoyance, I moved on to a journal with a faded blue leather cover.

  My skin prickled as I paged through it. No lines of poetry or homework here. This one contained at least half a dozen date and time lists like the one I’d found for the warehouse node, except that these lists all began in handwriting far different from Tracy’s. Two different styles—one an elegant cursive, and the other a cramped print. His grandparents, I realized. Both had been summoners, killed by Rhyzkahl over thirty years ago during a failed attempt to summon Szerain.

  Slowly and carefully, I deciphered the handwriting. At the top of every list was a series of numbers—most likely a coded way to ID the list, I decided. However, my tired brain refused to derive any meaning or pattern in the various series, so I mentally tabled that aspect for now. Each list also contained dates, written in the lovely cursive, from when both summoners were alive. Tracy had added more recent and upcoming dates, as well as at least a dozen of the seemingly random alliterative phrases. “Boss-boy breaks boss’s balls” and “Cowboy creek crevice creates confusion” and “Twin twilights twinkle,” but not a damn thing I could easily decipher to give me a location.

  Groaning in defeat, I set aside the notebook and its stupid “Mountains mean multiple mergers” list. Figuring that shit out could go on my to-do list for after we found Idris. Right now the going-the-hell-to-bed part of my personal to-do list looked awfully appealing.

  My phone rang in the kitchen where it was charging, and I groaned. “Shit.” It was so far to the kitchen. Twenty feet at least. Surely I didn’t have to get up and answer it, did I? But I should at least check the number, my far more mature conscience pointed out.

  Crap. My far more mature conscience was right. Too much shit going on to ignore calls. I heaved myself up and shuffled to the kitchen, then scowled as the phone stopped ringing the instant I picked it up. I peered at the caller ID and scowled some more. Blocked. Probably stupid telemarketers. I unplugged the phone, about to stuff it in my pocket when it rang again. Blocked.

  I started to hit the ignore button, then hesitated. Telemarketers didn’t usually call back. Could be a cop or something work-related.

  I answered. “Kara Gillian.”

  “Hey, Kara,” said a familiar voice.

  It took a second for it to register. “Idris! Where are you? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. And I intend to stay that way,” he said, voice calm but carrying a tinge of stress.

  “Where are you?” I demanded as I ran to the basement door. “We’ve been crazy worried.”

  “You know I can’t tell you that, and anyway, I’m calling to tell you to lay off. Don’t try to find me. It’s better for everyone that way.”

  I yanked the basement door open, started down the stairs. “Idris. What’s going on? Why shouldn’t we try to find you?” I had zero doubt this call was being monitored by Katashi’s people, but I clung to the hope that Idris could give me a clue I’d be able to decipher but wouldn’t be significant to his captors.

  “I don’t want you to find me, and I know you. I know you’ll try,” he said, a hint of desperation in his voice. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

  Zack and Ryan stood and looked at me as I descended to the basement. I gesticulated wildly with my free hand and mouthed “Idris.” Ryan gave a nod, pulled out his phone and started a call, likely to get the trace. Zack dug for something in his pocket as he moved toward me.

  “Idris, how can you expect me to stop looking for you?” I asked as I switched the phone to speaker. “I can’t believe you don’t want to be back with us, with Mzatal.”

  “Yeah. I thought that too at first, thought I needed to get back. But my perspective has changed. I’ve had new training, seen more of the truth. Kara, you need to trust me. I’m dealing with things you can’t even imagine.”

  My gut twisted with the horrible fear that Idris had been manipulated. “You might be surprised.” I kept my voice steady. “I have a damn good imagination.”

  Zack put a digital recorder in my free hand, and I held it close to the phone.

  Idris sighed. “I care about you, and I don’t want to see you or Lord Mzatal hurt. But if you find me, the shit’s going to hit the fan and people will get hurt.”

  “Idris, you know Mzatal won’t give up on you and leave you to the Mraztur. He loves you. You know that, right?”

  He went quiet for a second. “I know he won’t give up. That’s why it’s up to you to convince him. We know he’s here, and we’ll be prepared for him next time. Tito died because Tsuneo hadn’t anticipated Mzatal being at the warehouse. We won’t be making that mistake again.”

  Nausea churned my stomach. Manipulated? Doubtful since manipulation decreased a summoner’s ability. Or simply playing along with his captors? And obviously Katashi’s people didn’t know everything. They didn’t know Mzatal wasn’t here anymore. “We,” I echoed. “You mean you and Katashi’s flunkies? You and Rhyzkahl? How can you include yourself as part of that ‘we’ after all you and I have seen?”

  “I’ve seen a lot more in the past month. At first I thought they were trying to plant a seed of doubt, wanting me to shun my old associations. But there’s far more shit going on than I ever dreamed of. You think you have everything figured out, then whoosh! the game changes.”

  I paced. “Idris, we’re spinning our wheels here. Why did they risk letting you call? Just to warn us off with some nebulous threat of dire consequences? I find that hard to believe.”

  “I’m calling because I told them I wanted to call. And yeah, part of it is to say please, please leave off searching for me. It’s better for everyone that way.” He said it all with utter conviction, as though he actually believed it. “But mainly, I called because I wanted to hear your voice, to talk to you.” And now his voice carried an unmistakable echo of longing. And grief.

  I had no way to unravel truth from bullshit, but that didn’t stop the wrenching ache in my heart. “All right. Let’s talk about something besides us not coming after you.” I gave Ryan a desperate Anything yet? look, but he pressed his lips together and shook his head. “I locked down the seventh ring of the shikvihr a few days ago,” I told Idris.

  “Yeah? You’re kicking ass,” he said with a lightness that wasn’t there before. “I bet you got hung up on the next to last sigil though. You never could balance inverse coils worth a damn.”

  I let out a weak laugh. “You’re right about that, but I think I have the hang of it now. I’m a prodigy, remember?” I said with a snort of amusement. “I even shaved eight minutes off the stair climb. You still staying in shape? Running any?”

  Ryan finally gave me a thumbs up which I hoped meant he had the trace, but he followed it with a keep going hand signal.

  “I was until last week,” he said. “Go
t the ninth right before I . . . came to Earth, but I haven’t done any training in the past few days, even with Master Katashi here. There hasn’t been time.”

  Fuck. The Mraztur had found a way to send the old bastard to Earth. “You’ve been busy with your new associates?”

  I heard a shuffling on his end and muffled voices as though he’d lowered the phone and covered it. A second later he returned. “I have to go now,” he said the tension of the earlier part of the call back in his voice. “Tell Mzatal I still have his ring, and I haven’t forgotten gheztak ru eehn. So leave me be. You don’t want to start a fire you can’t put out.”

  My throat tightened. “I’ll tell him. No promises on the fire though.” I paused. “Tah agahl lahn.”

  “Me too,” he said, the words catching. “I’m sorry.”

  I was about to ask what for when a man’s voice I didn’t recognize spoke a single word.

  “Rowan.”

  The line went dead. My heart thudded as I recoiled from the unexpected assault, yet other than the adrenaline response, I didn’t feel any different. Was the asshole simply fucking with me? I wouldn’t put it past an ally of the Mraztur, but my instinct told me they had a deeper purpose. Why else allow the phone call?

  Zack took the recorder from me, switched it off and eyed me critically. “You okay?”

  I lowered the phone, stared at it. “Shit.” I drew a shaky breath, then looked up at Zack. “I think so. Fucking bastards.” Anger threaded with fear coiled through me. “I’m pretty sure Kastashi’s people attempted to Rowanize me with a command word.” I frowned and fell silent while I did a quick personal assessment. Name? Kara Gillian. Age? Thirty. Love life? Pretty damn awesome. “I still feel like me,” I told Zack. “I don’t know if the attempt failed, or if it has a delayed effect, but either way, I intend to be hyper-vigilant until I summon Mzatal.”

  “You might not notice any difference in yourself,” Zack warned. “We’ll keep an eye on you as well, and I’ll make sure Eilahn understands fully too. You all right for now?”