Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) Page 27

  “Were these warded against my aunt as well?” I pushed the words past the bitter taste that filled my mouth. Though I knew the answer, I had to ask. Had to cling to the hope that we’d both been duped and used.

  “No.”

  Emotions churned as I dropped my gaze to the journal. “She lied to me,” I said, voice cracking.

  “The qaztahl and their summoners are devious,” Seretis said with a heavy touch of self-loathing.

  “I finally get hold of stuff I’ve needed, and now I can’t even use it.” My fingers dug into a fake binding, and I slammed the book against the table. “Ain’t that a piece of shit.”

  Bryce muttered a curse. “You still balking at taking what you want?”

  “Not anymore.” I lifted my chin. Hurt and anger and betrayal ricocheted within me. The last twenty years of my life—all a lie? “We’re taking it. We’ll rent a fucking moving van if we have to.”

  He pulled out his phone. “I’ll get a rental. Don’t want to risk anything flying out of the bed of Vince’s truck. In fact I’ll see if he can call it in for me.” With that he stepped into the hall to make the arrangements.

  Seretis gestured to an old photo of Tessa standing in front of her store for its grand opening. “This is the one you name Tessa Pazhel?”

  “Yes, that’s my aunt,” I said. “After my dad died, she raised me and taught me how to be a summoner.” I scowled. “Except for the part where she left a bunch of crap out on purpose and lied to my face.”

  “I remember her,” he said.

  My eyes narrowed. “What do you remember?”

  “She was Rhyzkahl’s shadow during the conclave twenty-two years past.” He studied the photo, stance rigid, eyes reflecting an anguish I couldn’t fathom. Because of Tessa? After a moment Seretis drew a deeper breath and turned away from the picture, face composed again. His regard settled upon me, and I knew he was reading my relationship with Tessa and anything relevant and on my mind. I shot a quick glance toward Idris, but he was so involved with the valve I could have been tangoing naked with Bryce and he wouldn’t have noticed.

  “Her summoning chamber is in the attic,” I told Seretis. “Would you mind checking it as well?”

  “If there are other locations such as this one, I will find them.” He rested a hand on my shoulder for a heartbeat then exited. Buoyed by the gesture, I busied myself pulling out books that I thought might be of the most use to us. I tucked my grandmother’s journal into my bag. I didn’t want to share that with anyone until I’d read it.

  Bryce left and returned half an hour later with a beat up Y’all-Haul cargo van, attached trailer, and a billion boxes. By then Idris had finished with the valve, and I related a quick and dirty recap of the discovery for him. He let out a low whistle as he took stock of the hidden books.

  “You learned to summon without ever mastering anchor lock sigils?” he asked, tone incredulous yet holding a dose of admiration.

  “Yeah, well, I guess I’m good at bullshitting my way through life,” I said wryly.

  He snorted then sobered. “Did you find any indication she knew about me?”

  “Nothing yet,” I said with quiet sympathy, “but there’s a lot more to go through.”

  He gave me a stiff nod then pitched in to help Bryce pack books.

  “Is everything all right, Kara?” Carl said from the doorway. His mellow gaze took in the activity.

  “Yeah, everything’s cool,” I said. I’d forgotten he was in the house. Not surprising considering how the discovery of Tessa’s perfidy had consumed my thoughts a teensy bit. “Need to move the contents of the library to my house.” I didn’t bother trying to blow smoke up his ass about how it would be safer there or anything like that.

  “Ah,” he said. “Yes, better to spend the dragon’s hoard.” Without another word he slid into the room and joined our work. I didn’t try to make sense of his statement. This was Carl.

  “Kara,” Bryce said some time later. “Seretis needs you in the attic.”

  My mouth went dry. No way was that a good thing. I thanked him and headed upstairs.

  The comfortable twenty by twenty foot space of the converted attic could have easily been used as an office or another bedroom, but served Tessa well as a summoning chamber. The high, peaked ceiling easily accommodated large demons, and the floor had been painted to create a good surface for chalking sigils. A recliner and a small side table were tucked against the wall to the left. No other furniture.

  That was how I’d always seen it, at least. But now Seretis stood near the recliner, beside a wall-mounted shelf I had no memory of. A pile of books and other items rested on the seat of the chair.

  “Very heavily warded. Against you,” he said, voice low, “by both Isumo Katashi and Rhyzkahl.” He lifted a hand toward the pile then dropped it as if the weight was more than he could bear. “Tah sesekur di lahn.”

  I hold sorrow for you. That was the closest translation of the demon phrase. An expression of the deepest sympathy. I crossed to him and knelt by the items on the recliner. Two ancient volumes on summoning. A framed photo of a much younger Tessa smiling beside Katashi. Calligraphy mat, paper, brushes, ink. A dip pen. A ribbon-bound packet of air mail letters. A Japanese hand scroll. A stenographers pad. Memorabilia, I told myself. Nothing but relics from a time long gone. Except that one of the ink bottles appeared brand-new, and the date on the cover of the notepad was only three months past.

  I snatched up the pad and flipped through it. Only the first half bore writing, but there was more than enough to shake my world to the core. To-do lists such as Call Tsuneo re Isumo’s progress in Texas and Notify Gina of the revised schedule. Plus notes for the creation of a ritual I didn’t recognize, with sigils drawn and scratched out—several pages of a portion of a diagram, like drafts of a document with each successive rendition containing fewer corrections as she closed in on the solution.

  Frustrated, I stared at the last page, certain I’d seen the order of those sigils before but unable to rely on my faulty memory of the arcane.

  “Seretis? What would these sigils do?” I asked, extending the notepad to him.

  His jaw tightened as he skimmed the page. “They would be part of a larger ritual,” he said. “This section would serve to draw low-frequency potency to a point below the intended target. A segment like this for each frequency range would be quite effective to isolate the target from the arcane.”

  Isolate from the arcane . . . She helped design the ritual that let Katashi hold me helpless while McDunn took my abilities. How long had that plan been in the works? Long enough for the technique to have been perfected and Idris to have learned it from Katashi.

  Reeling from the revelations, I sat heavily on the floor and struggled to make sense of it all. How could any of this be true? “I don’t even know what to believe anymore,” I said, voice quavering. “She was like a mother to me.”

  Seretis trailed his fingers over the empty shelf, rested his hand on its edge. “I am so weary of the machinations,” he said, despair and fatigue in his eyes and in the set of his shoulders. His hand tightened on the shelf in a white-knuckled grip. “And Mzatal is on the verge of closing off again because of them.” With a guttural snarl he ripped the shelf from the wall and flung it across the room. After a few seconds he drew a deeper breath, and a portion of the dark mood faded from his stance. Bryce, lending support from downstairs through their bond.

  I stood and offered Seretis my hand. “Let’s get everything packed up and ditch this party.”

  He took my hand, gave it a light squeeze that conveyed far more than mere words, and together we returned downstairs.

  Chapter 29

  We proceeded to fill the ten billion boxes to the brim with the contents of the library. Before I had a chance to tremble in horror at the mountain of stuff that needed to be loaded up, Bryce rolled in with an industrial-strength hand truck.

  “Rented this as well,” he said. “Figured it might come in handy. Oh,
also got a ramp for the front steps.”

  “You’re the most brilliant man I know,” I breathed.

  Bryce struck a pose. “Call me ‘Lazy Enough to Find An Easier Way Man!’”

  With the help of physics and the invention of the wheel, we made short work of loading the van and trailer. The only snag came when a nosy neighbor wandered over on the pretense of walking her yappy dust mop of a dog, but Seretis deftly intervened. I didn’t hear what he said to her, but she left with a silly grin on her face and a bounce in her step.

  Idris joined me in the rental for the return home, while Bryce and Seretis took Pellini’s truck, and Eilahn followed on the Ducati. As we got on our way, I couldn’t help but snort. “The last time I rented a vehicle, it was a fourteen foot moving truck to transport Kehlirik from my house to Tessa’s,” I told Idris.

  “Why?” he asked, bewildered.

  “A little over a year ago, Tessa lost her essence in the Symbol Man’s ritual and was in a coma,” I said. “I needed Kehlirik to remove the wards in her house so I could search her library for a way to save her.” I paused as I muscled the wheel through a turn then wrinkled my nose. “Funny thing, Kehlirik never said a word to me about the valve in there. And he sure as shit didn’t remove the wards from the hidden books. Or tell me about them.”

  Idris sighed. “Rhyzkahl’s reyza.”

  “Yup.” I made a face. “I did plenty of whining back then about the library as a whole being warded against me, especially since I was her only known relative and her student. But she was in a fragile state when I confronted her.” I made a rude noise. “Tessa told me she ‘thought it was the right thing to do at the time,’ and instead of getting a Clue and digging deeper, I let her get away with that lame excuse.”

  We fell silent for the remainder of the drive. After I pulled up in front of the house and killed the engine, I announced to everyone that we’d unload the van and trailer later. Amazingly, no one argued. Hell, my property was warded to the teeth. No one was going to steal the stuff.

  Idris jogged inside to enlist Pellini’s help in clearing space for when we finally got around to unloading the boxes. Too much energy, that one. Eilahn climbed off her motorcycle and trudged straight to her nest. Seretis stepped out of the pickup then grabbed at the door to steady himself.

  Bryce rushed to his side. “Slow your roll, dammit,” he said to the pale and shaking lord, voice gruff with affection.

  “He’s been here too long?” I asked with worry.

  “He pushed it,” Bryce said, “but he needs to recharge on the nexus before he goes back.”

  “Got it,” I said. “Anomalies and grouchy lords on the other side of the valve.”

  Seretis straightened as he drew reserves from proximity to the nexus. “Grouchy and obstinate,” he said, mouth twitching into a smile, “and unlikely to reform.” He hooked one arm through Bryce’s then slipped his other through mine. A casual, friendly gesture, but it was clear he needed the added support.

  “How bad are things in the demon realm right now?” I asked as we made our way to the backyard.

  He sobered. “The flows are in chaos and cause tremors in every realm. Anomalies grow more frequent and more bizarre.” A shudder passed through him that I noticed only because of his arm against mine. “Fire rain deforested the southern reaches of Elofir’s realm—the first occurrence of such in two centuries. There is little rest for qaztahl or demahnk.”

  My guilt spiked, and I winced. “I took you away for hours to pull down wards.”

  Seretis gave my arm a squeeze. “Not against my will. The discoveries will no doubt prove advantageous in the long run.”

  Bryce disengaged from Seretis. “Lemme get some blankets to cushion our butts on the concrete,” he said then detoured to the laundry room while Seretis and I continued to the nexus.

  “What of Mzatal?” I asked.

  Seretis’s steps faltered and recovered. “He is our driving force. None of us can match his . . . focus.” Yet he paled as he spoke, and his eyes grew wary.

  I steadied him as we stepped up onto the nexus. “You don’t sound happy about that.”

  “Mzatal does what he must,” he said and passed a hand over his face. “None dare shirk responsibilities in attending the flows.”

  “It must be a lot harder now with him closed off,” I said with a wince.

  Seretis slipped his arm from mine. “Closed?” He let out a single humorless laugh, harsh and laden with foreboding. “No, Mzatal has not closed.”

  “But even before McDunn diminished me I could barely feel him,” I said in confusion. “He’d walled off except for a pinprick.”

  Seretis tightened his hands to fists and lowered his head. His aura expanded as if he instinctively raised defenses, like a cat fluffing up at the bark of a dog. “A pinprick remains, and thus he is open yet.” Seretis spoke, words heavy and dark, bearing the weight of millennia of experience. “Mzatal commands resolve enough to thrust an entire sun through the span of a single hair. No, Kara Gillian, you have never known him fully closed and merged with his essence blade.” He opened his hands slowly, as if it took great force of will. “None can match Mzatal when he is thus. Formidable. Ruthless. Utterly focused.”

  I tried to comprehend a fully closed Mzatal. “He had his blade at the plantation battle.” I paused. “Paul Ortiz almost died there.”

  Seretis lifted his head, nodded gravely. “He put aside Khatur in the wake of Szerain’s exile. Though he reclaimed it to counter Rhyzkahl’s machinations against you, he has yet to embrace it fully again. Thus he walks a treacherous line between fury and control, distraction and focus.”

  Dread settled into a sick coil in my chest. “As long as Khatur exists, Mzatal can’t be free.”

  Seretis met my eyes. “When he created the essence blades, he wed his fate to them. A terrible choice.”

  The coil tightened. “And now he can’t afford to set aside the blade even if he wanted to. Not with the Mraztur craziness and the demon realm falling apart. He needs the power and focus. The world needs it.”

  “It is a wretched truth, Kara Gillian,” he said. “I cannot deny I cherished the respite of the past decade and a half when Khatur lay dormant.” His aura resolved to its normal level, and his voice carried a wistful nostalgia. “This last year in particular as he opened more with Idris, and with you.”

  “He’s opened more with you, too,” I said.

  One side of his mouth lifted. “And with Elofir as well. A welcome echo of times long past. It has been . . .” Seretis angled his head as he searched for the appropriate word. “Nice,” he finished.

  “Nice is good,” I said. “But the whole world-going-to-hell thing is getting in the way.”

  He exhaled. “There is no leisure for ‘nice’ amidst our current woes. With Szerain exiled, Rhyzkahl crippled, and Jesral weakened, we are hard-pressed.” Seretis brought his eyes back to mine, sad in contrast with his quick smile. “Yet I must confess, I take consolation in Rhyzkahl’s plight despite the challenges it poses.”

  “It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.” I grinned, though his words stirred disquiet. The lords carried an unfathomable burden as an essential aspect of their existence—and had done so for thousands of years. Without their constant maintenance, the demon realm would cease to exist. How could anyone live with that much responsibility?

  Bryce emerged from the house and spread an old quilt at the center of the slab. We settled on it, and Seretis’s features relaxed as he connected with the potency reservoir of the nexus.

  “How long will Rhyzkahl be out of the game?” I asked.

  “I never count him out,” Seretis said. “However, he is quite debilitated. He cannot tolerate sunlight, and he has ineffective connection to the flows.” He paused, unsettled. “There is no precedent for his condition. We do not know if he will ever recover.”

  Without a ptarl, I added silently. There was no precedent because, in the lords’ entire history, no ptarl had ever broken th
e bond. Though Szerain and Kadir were separated from their ptarls, their bonds remained intact. “As much as I despise Rhyzkahl,” I said, “it sucks that he can’t help fix the damage he caused.”

  “His absence requires—” Seretis scrambled to stand then stared down at me with shock and distrust as if I’d turned rabid. “You have connected with him.”

  Bryce stood, troubled gaze shifting from Seretis to me.

  “Connected?” I rose to my feet as well since I didn’t like him towering over me—especially when I didn’t know what the hell was going on. “Wait, are you talking about the dream thing?”

  If anything, his apprehension increased. “Yes. A dream link.”

  “You don’t have to worry,” I said defensively. “It wasn’t like the other times Rhyzkahl came to my dreams. I wasn’t asleep, and I had total control for this one. Why are you so freaked?”

  Seretis shook his head, a sharp movement. “Rhyzkahl is the target with this new link.” He assessed me with narrowed eyes. “You are the initiator.”

  “Huh?” I blinked, taken aback. “No, I’m not.”

  “Who wove the link?” Seretis demanded. He advanced toward me, but Bryce thrust a hand between us to stop him.

  “What are you talking about?” I demanded right back. As much as I liked Seretis, this confusing third-degree was getting old, fast. “I was about to go to sleep for the night, and the dream-thing just happened. I figured it was something Rhyzkahl tried to do that backfired on him.”

  Seretis glowered. “He cannot create a dream link.”

  “Sure he can,” I insisted. “He used to invade my dreams all the damn time.”

  Bryce pressed his lips together then shocked me by taking hold of Seretis’s chin and forcing the lord to meet his eyes. “Tell her,” Bryce said, unflinching.

  I planted my hands on my hips. “Tell me what?”