Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) Read online

  I shook my head. “Mzatal believes that three lords working together can read Katashi.” Sighing, I tugged a hand through my hair. “And, if they can’t, then they can take care of him as they see fit.”

  Idris folded his arms and slouched back. “Okay. Fine.” It wasn’t a ringing endorsement, but I’d take it.

  Bryce cleared his throat. “With capture on the agenda, I propose surveillance as a first step. Get a feel for their movement. We don’t have the manpower for a stakeout, but we can monitor the gate with a camera.”

  “It’s a solid starting point,” I agreed.

  “Idris and I can buy one of those weatherproof mini video cameras,” Bryce said. “We’ll get that set up tonight.”

  Idris stood and yanked the messenger bag across his chest. “I’ll be by the car,” he growled and stalked out.

  Bryce watched him go, exhaled. “I’ll deal with him. He wants Katashi’s blood, but he sees the bigger picture.”

  “Thanks, Bryce,” I said. “You rock.”

  “Yes, I believe I do.”

  “You need to leave before your head is too big to fit through the door.”

  Bryce laughed. “It’ll be wee hours before we get back. Don’t wait up.”

  I stretched and felt things pop and creak in my spine. “I don’t think I could if I wanted to.” I said. “Be careful.”

  “The epitome of caution,” he said and exited.

  Pellini rubbed his face with both hands. “What have I gotten myself into?”

  “Deep shit.” I gave him a wry smile. “But we won’t let you drown.”

  Chapter 20

  In a spontaneous act of self-motivation, I donned workout gear immediately upon waking the next morning, determined to tackle the obstacle course for the first time since my return.

  Humidity smacked me in the face the instant I stepped out the back door, a reminder of why I’d decided fitness could take a brief holiday. Ugh. Right. Summer in south Louisiana. I sighed and stepped off the porch. It would be the height of wimpiness to bail out, now that I was dressed, ready, and outside. So what if it felt as if I sucked air through a towel from the floor of a sauna. I was tough. I was fierce. I was already sweating my ass off and hadn’t even started to run yet.

  Armed with that attitude, I managed to shamble through the damn thing, though I suspected that the guys had increased the height on the walls and made the entire course at least half again as long as it used to be. With no grace whatsoever, I clambered over the final wall then staggered into deep shade by the edge of the woods. Drenched in sweat, I flopped onto my back and tried to remember how to breathe like a human.

  A few minutes later Idris stepped out the back door then took off for the start of the course at a brisk jog. I could only see parts of the circuit from my vantage, but every glimpse of him revealed driven determination as he assaulted the obstacles. Muddy and sweat-soaked, he finished in half the time I’d taken, yet instead of flopping on the grass like a sensible person, he immediately began the movements of the shikvihr. I watched in fascination—and a mad helping of awe—as he executed the shikvihr in a manner akin to an insanely complex martial arts kata, his face drawn tight as he concentrated. Like me, he couldn’t actualize the sigils on Earth, but his crisp, fluid motions left no doubt which sigil he traced at any given time.

  My respect for him ratcheted up several degrees. He’d have the full shikvihr in no time at all. He’d do it in Mzatal’s realm on top of the basalt column with the terrifying abyss through its core—and he wouldn’t bat an eye. He’d already looked into a different kind of hell when he witnessed the brutal murder of his sister.

  Idris finished the ninth ring, raked a hand through his hair, and flicked sweat away. To my amazement, he ran to the beginning of the course to start again. I rolled over and pushed to my feet. For an outrageous moment, I considered following Idris’s example and doing the course one more time. Fortunately, reason prevailed and reminded me that killing myself by heatstroke would be counterproductive. With that decided, I headed to the house—sweaty, muddy, and generally gross.

  For everyone’s sake, I went straight to the bathroom and took a nice hot shower. Dressed and clean, I came back out to the kitchen to find Bryce at the table with the laptop and Pellini pouring a cup of coffee. Mouth-watering smells wafted from the oven.

  “You made the coffee?” I asked Pellini.

  He nodded. “You drink coffee with chicory,” he said. “I love that stuff.” He slid a glance to me. “Not sure you could’ve convinced me to stay here if y’all didn’t have decent coffee.”

  “It’s the food of the gods,” I said then peeked into the oven, thrilled to see biscuits baking. “Did you make those from scratch?” I asked.

  Pellini leaned back against the counter. “Are you kidding? No, there was one of those biscuit dough-in-a-tube things in the back of your fridge.”

  I had zero memory of buying anything like that, but that didn’t mean squat anymore in this household. I poured myself a cup of coffee and added my usual near-lethal amounts of cream and sugar. Once settled at the table, I idly watched Bryce skim through local news reports.

  When the oven timer dinged, Pellini removed the biscuits and slid them onto a plate. He set them in the middle of the table along with butter and jam, and not ten seconds later Jill and Steeev entered through the back door.

  “I need sustenance for my very last day at work,” she announced as she dropped a file onto the table. She purloined two biscuits before snagging an empty chair next to Bryce, and damn if his face didn’t light up every time she walked into the room. I clung to my faith in him that told me he would never press for more friendship than she was comfortable with, but I didn’t miss the very warm smile he offered her. I also didn’t miss that Steeev swiped two biscuits for himself.

  “Last day, though not a full day,” Steeev told her with a hint of the glare Jill had mentioned at the ice cream shop.

  She grinned around a mouthful of biscuit and jam. “Wah owah ah mof.”

  His glare eased. “Yes, one hour at most,” he said, impressing me with his ability to translate biscuit-speak.

  “You got any plans for what to do while you wait to pop out that kid?” Pellini asked. He split a biscuit down the middle and slathered jam on each side.

  Jill chewed and swallowed. “Oh, yes,” she said with a smile. “I have plans. I have years of TV to catch up on or rewatch. I’m going to make our Internet connection scream for mercy with all the quality entertainment I intend to stream.”

  Pellini let out a low chuckle. “That’s an enviable goal.”

  Jill got to her feet and glanced at the clock. “Unless I have to waste time hunting down my captain, I expect to start my movie marathon by ten a.m.” She picked up the file, then she and Steeev headed out the front door.

  Bryce turned the laptop so Pellini and I could see the screen. “Check it out.”

  A police sketch of Jerry Steiner glowered at me from a local news website. Right next to it was a driver’s license photo of the man himself. I made a face and flipped him off.

  “With the Farouche investigation, he’s one face among many,” Bryce said. “But doing that shit to Amaryllis put him in the spotlight for all the good ol’ boys. He’d better keep his head down.”

  Pellini peered at the images. “Too bad he’s so common looking. Hardass, but nothing makes him stand out.”

  Bryce pulled the computer back to face him. “One of his greatest assets. He could blend in, and his mark wouldn’t notice him until it was too late.”

  All three of us jerked our heads up at a sharp crack from the direction of the highway.

  “That was a high-powered rifle,” Bryce said, alarm rising in his eyes. “It’s not hunting season, is it?”

  “Only for wild hogs,” Pellini said, brows drawing together. “Open season on them because of overpopulation.” But doubt threaded through his voice.

  Bryce pushed back from the table and ran for the computer
room with me on his heels. We’d only heard one shot. Maybe it hadn’t been a gunshot at all. Sure. Three people in the room with firearms experience, and all of us wrong?

  Bryce didn’t bother sitting, simply wiggled the mouse and pulled up the security camera playback for the front of the property. The view of the highway and gate popped up on the screen, and Bryce rewound the image until we saw Jill’s car pass through the gate as it opened then pause at the end of the driveway. A few seconds later a woman breezed by on a motorcycle, and Jill’s car moved forward in a right turn onto the highway.

  The instant the front tires touched the asphalt, the car lurched hard to the right then veered off the highway and beyond camera range. Bryce let out a curse and raced from the room. On the edge of the screen a black van came into view, but I only caught a glimpse before I sprinted after Bryce.

  He burst out the front door and leaped from porch to ground without a break in stride. I snagged my gun and holster from the table by the door then ran down the steps as Bryce dove behind the wheel of the Malibu. I barely managed to get into the passenger side before he gunned it down the driveway, and I braced myself as he screamed around the curves.

  He hit the remote to open the gate when we were fifty yards away then slammed on the brakes. He knew better than to drive right smack into a potentially bad scene. I already had my door open and jumped out before the car stopped moving. Bryce threw it into park and bailed out on his side. Together we approached the end of the driveway in a low run and with guns at the ready.

  Jill’s car remained cocked at an angle with its front fender against a tree. No sign of the black van I’d seen on the video or anyone else. My pulse thudded loud in my ears, and I took deep and slow breaths to control my reaction to the gallons of adrenaline in my system.

  “See anything?” I asked, staying low. I didn’t bother to keep my voice down. If anyone was out here, they’d see us.

  Bryce hadn’t stopped scanning for threats. “Clear so far,” he finally said, expression intense. Together we moved forward until we could see inside the car. Glass fragments glittered on the dash and interior. Jill’s purse and the case file lay on the floor on the passenger side. No sign of Steeev or Jill. An icy fist clutched at my gut.

  “She’s not here,” I said, unable to keep my voice steady. I yanked the driver’s side door open, and my heart dropped as the distinct odor of sulfur and ozone poured out. “They killed Steeev.” Killed him on Earth, at least. As soon as he’d died here his body had discorporeated, but it remained to be seen whether he made it back home to the demon realm. My hand tightened on the butt of my gun. “And they have Jill. They got Jill.”

  Bryce remained silent, demeanor dark and scary. He scrutinized the hole in the windshield and the cracks that radiated from it, then leaned close to peer at the hole in the driver’s seat.

  “High-powered rifle,” he said, voice so cold it could freeze lava. “Round went through the windshield, through Steeev, and into the backseat.” He pulled the back door open, snapped a knife out, and slashed the cushion. After a couple of seconds of digging, he held up a deformed copper projectile that looked more like a flower than a bullet.

  “Three-oh-eight,” Bryce said, tightening his hand around it. “I’ll bet anything it came from a Bergara tactical rifle with a Schmidt and Bender scope.” He swept an expert gaze at the surrounding woods. “Leo Carter. He has extensive sniper training. That’s the rifle he uses, and this was no amateur shot.” Bryce gestured toward a stand of trees by the curve in the road. “He most likely set up there. Clear view, and five hundred yards would be easy for Carter.”

  I didn’t fucking care what kind of round or gun he’d used to kill Steeev. I wanted to scream that, but I knew focusing on these details was how Bryce kept himself from breaking apart. Throat tight, I gave him a nod. “We’ll check it out,” I said. “We’ll check everything out. Good work.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and my heart leaped when I yanked it out and saw Jill’s name. Yet in the next instant it crashed again. It meant they had her and were going to make their demands. Rage burned through me as I jammed the answer button. “You goddamn motherfucking pieces of shit fuckstains,” I yelled into the phone. “If you touch one hair on her head I’ll—”

  “Kara! Shut up!”

  Jill. That was Jill’s voice. She sounded upset, which was understandable. “Jill, don’t be afraid!” I frantically beckoned Bryce over. “Those assholes won’t dare hurt you, and I won’t stop until I find you!”

  “Yeah, finding me would be nice,” she said. “I’m in the middle of the woods. What happened?”

  I didn’t want to tell her about Steeev, not over the phone. “They took you, but we’re going to get you back. Can you describe anything around you?” Weird that they were letting her talk so freely. Maybe they didn’t realize she had her phone?

  “Took me? What are you talking about? Oh! I think I’m on your property. I see the high wall for the obstacle course. And I hear Sammy barking. At least I think it’s Sammy.”

  It took me a stupid moment to comprehend, then I started jumping up and down like a third grader who’d won a trip to Disney. “She’s here!” I screeched to Bryce, but he was already fishing the keys from his pocket.

  “Go,” he said, his voice thick with worry. “Send Pellini out here when you get to the house.”

  I snatched the keys from his hand and sprinted to the Malibu. Pellini was on the porch as I pulled up, a shotgun in his hands. Idris jogged from the backyard toward me.

  “They shot Steeev,” I shouted to them as I jumped out. “Jill’s okay and in the woods. Pellini, go help Bryce. Idris, help me find Jill.”

  Neither questioned my orders. Pellini hopped in his truck and raced up front. With the help of Sammy, Idris and I soon located a very perplexed Jill. Idris helped me get her back to the house then joined the other two at the gate.

  I settled Jill on the sofa then sat close by and peered at her with worry. She appeared completely unharmed other than a thin streak of blood on her cheek, likely from flying glass.

  “Would you please stop looking at me like I’m some kind of alien,” she snapped.

  I winced. “Sorry. I’m trying to figure out what happened.” As much as I tried to come up with other possibilities, I kept returning to the same conclusion. She’d been in the car one moment and in the woods the next. A few days earlier, she’d been on the porch then traveled instantaneously to the pond valve.

  As if in response to my growing suspicion, she put her hand on her belly and shifted in discomfort. “The bean is wiggling hard. All elbows again.”

  “She knows you’re upset,” I said absently. The demahnk could teleport, so maybe the child of one could as well? It boggled my mind that an unborn baby could have enough awareness of the world outside its cozy swimming pool to consciously teleport and bring mommy with her.

  Survival reflex? That was a little easier to handle. I snorted to myself. Right. I was fine with the concept of a teleporting demon baby but not with how aware it might be? I’d been dealing with this weird shit for FAR too long.

  I dismissed all thoughts of instantaneous-hyper-aware-fetus transport. “What do you remember?” I asked.

  Her brow creased. “Steeev was driving, and we headed out the gate. I told him he had biscuit crumbs on his shirt. He smiled and—” She stopped, blinked.

  “And what?”

  Jill stroked a hand over her belly, frowning. “Something hit the windshield,” she said slowly. “Steeev jerked the wheel . . . and then I was standing in the middle of the woods.” She turned to me. “Kara, where is Steeev?” Her voice stayed calm, but distress rose in her eyes. She wasn’t dumb. She’d heard how upset I was when I answered the phone. More significantly, Steeev wasn’t with her right now, caring for her.

  I told her, then hugged her when she cried. “He’s not dead,” I reminded her and hoped I was right. Jill knew how that whole thing worked from the time I died in the demon realm and f
rom when Eilahn was shot to death here on Earth last year. Chances were good that he’d pass through the void and survive, but there were no guarantees. It could be weeks before we knew for sure.

  “I know.” She sniffled against my shoulder. “But it’s awful for Steeev, and I felt safe with him around. With Zack gone I really needed that.”

  I sighed. “Yeah, you did.”

  Footsteps on the porch reached us seconds before Bryce entered, followed by Pellini. Bryce’s gaze went straight to Jill, and stark relief swam through his eyes at the sight of her safe and unharmed.

  “You okay?”

  She straightened and managed a wan smile as she wiped her eyes. “Yeah. Though now I’m all puffy and red-nosed.”

  “I hadn’t noticed,” he said with a fond smile and sat beside her.

  Yeah, he’d have been a godawful mess if she’d been hurt. “Did you find anything?” I asked him.

  “We found where Carter set up for his shot.” He tugged a scrap of paper from his pocket and held it out to me. “And this, tromped into the mud.”

  Although stained from its time in the mud, most of the details remained visible on the ripped corner of paper. The top held part of a green logo of a stylized running horse superimposed on a star, and below that was a sketch of arcane glyphs with a section torn off. I examined it then shrugged, puzzled. “Not much here. Three partial sigils.”

  Bryce tapped the logo. “I don’t know about the sigils, but this might be of interest. It’s Emerald Star Thoroughbreds. Belonged to Farouche, and Angus McDunn’s house is there.”

  That perked me right up. “You think he’s been back there? I’m sure the feds have been all over the place.”

  “I’m thinking about his wife,” Bryce said. “They had something special. We used to see McDunn with her every now and then. Always seemed like cognitive dissonance to see an ice-cold murderer like McDunn playing the loving husband and father. Happy.” He shook his head as if still unable to believe it. “As far as I know, he kept his business completely separate from his home life. Anyway, if he contacted anyone, it would be her.”