Touch of the Demon kg-5 Read online

  “She has?” I exhaled in relief, smiling weakly. “I was so worried.”

  Gestamar tightened another binding, then shifted and touched my cheek with the back of a claw. “Yes, though Ilana says that she will be in stasis for a time, to recover herself.”

  “Good…good. What about Safar?”

  “Mzatal tends Safar’s damaged wing now,” he replied calmly.

  Pain shot through me as Gestamar shifted my leg. And Safar was messed up, too. Wow. Today was turning out to be an even shittier day than the one before. I hadn’t thought that was possible. And damn it, the fucking collar was back on. It’d been such a relief to have it off during the healing.

  “You roused him,” Gestamar said, and it took me a couple of seconds to realize he was referring to Safar. “Neither of you would have survived had you not.” He shifted and returned to knotting bindings.

  “Good thing he didn’t like having his ear twisted,” I said with an unsteady smile. The pain was beginning to make its presence known again, pulsing in waves like radio signals from my leg.

  Gestamar snorted. “Our ears are quite sensitive. You chose well.”

  “And what about the syraza?”

  “Olihr. Recovered enough to return to Rhyzkahl by midday,” Gestamar said casually.

  That got my attention. What was one of Rhyzkahl’s syraza doing at Szerain’s palace? Hope rose. Did Rhyzkahl know I was here?

  “What happened?” I asked Gestamar. “I mean, why did we fall?”

  “Olihr is young and eager.” The reyza gave a low snort. “He sought to close the anomaly above on his own and became incapacitated by the backlash energies,” he explained. “When Safar touched Olihr, he received a jolt of it.”

  Like touching a live wire, I mused.

  A scrape of boot on stone gave me enough warning to be prepared as Idris entered and hurried to the side of the bed. It was obvious he was trying hard to not flutter, but the poor kid was clearly way out of his comfort zone. His eyes kept flicking to the swollen mess of my leg and skittering away, face pale and worried.

  “Kara, do you need anything?” he asked, practically wringing his hands. “Water? I have water. Or tunjen? Tunjen might be better.” His gaze shifted to my leg and away as he gulped. “I’ll get you some juice.” He wiped his hands on his trousers, scanning the table for anything that resembled juice.

  “Painkiller might be better,” I said, biting back the urge to tell him to find a Xanax for himself. My voice had an annoying rasp to it, and I grimaced. “Any sort of painkiller. That’d be good.”

  He stopped fluttering and blinked at me. “Ibuprofen! I have ibuprofen. Be right back!” He turned and headed for the door at a near run, coming to an awkward sliding stop about six inches before barreling into Mzatal.

  The lord stood still in the doorway, hands behind his back, as usual, as he gave Idris a hard look. Idris managed to straighten and get fully upright with some semblance of decorum, though the wild mane of his hair ruined the effect a bit. “Sorry, my lord,” he said and hurriedly stepped back out of the way.

  Mzatal kept his eyes on Idris for another few heartbeats before continuing into the room and allowing the young man to flee. He moved to the other side of the bed from Gestamar, face expressionless and gaze intense as he took in my overall condition. Even through the collar I had the sense he was probing, likely assessing my mental outlook as well as how mangled my physical body was.

  I bit back a cry of pain, hands clenching in the sheets as the reyza shifted my leg. Yeah, my mental outlook was just peachy right now.

  Mzatal’s eyes narrowed a hair. He shifted his attention to Gestamar, said something in demon, and received a deep-voiced answer. Neither’s face or manner betrayed the subject, to my deep annoyance.

  Mzatal shook his head, spoke again in a slightly more commanding tone. Sick fear pierced through me as the reyza seemed to hesitate. Were they talking about amputating my leg or something extreme like that?

  Gestamar gave a huffing snort, replied in demon, then turned and exited the room.

  “What’s going on?” I asked as I worked on unclenching my hands from the sheet. “Can y’all fix my leg?”

  Mzatal slid his gaze to my face. “I have sent Gestamar to create a particular medicinal blend for you.”

  “Please tell me it’s a painkiller,” I said, swallowing. “Or at least an antibiotic.” I risked another look at my leg. I didn’t see any dirt anywhere, so apparently it was cleaned while I slept. “Can’t you do one of those sigil things again?”

  “You need not worry about infection,” he continued, tone unnervingly mild. “And yes, the draught will ease the pain. It is too soon for you to tolerate another analgesic sigil. The bleeding has been stopped and the break set as well as is possible.”

  As well as is possible? What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Wait…you can heal this, right?”

  “It is a serious break,” he said, clearly watching for my reaction. “I will assess it to see what action will be taken.”

  I did my damnedest to keep my expression even, but I didn’t think I could completely hide the deep fear that took up residence in my gut. “Can’t you do some healing now? Or just send me home. Let me go to a hospital. They can fix it back home.” I locked eyes with him. “Don’t you let me end up a cripple.”

  His gaze remained steady on me. “I have already done some healing,” he stated. “No, I will not send you home or to a hospital. And you will end up as you will end up.”

  The wash of fury that swept through me helped to drive back some of the pain, but I kept silent and refused to look away. I fucking hated how completely I was at his mercy, and I wanted him to know it.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw Idris come back in. He stopped dead, likely feeling the level of tension in the room, and began to slowly back out, grimacing as the pill bottle rattled. I snapped my gaze to him and held out my hand for the bottle with a give-me-the-goddamn-pills-now expression on my face. He gulped and looked up at Mzatal. He must have received the okay, because he continued to my side.

  “Here you go,” he said with a wary flick of the eyes at Mzatal before he set the pill bottle in my hand. “Two hundred milligrams.”

  “Thank you,” I managed, fumbling with the top. My hands shook, and I ended up dropping pills on the bed before I managed to get four in my hand. That would bring it up to prescription strength and hopefully put a dent in this pain. “Could I have some water, please?”

  “You will not be able to take the draught as well,” Mzatal said, calm and conversational, “and the pain relief will be far less with the Earth medication.” He lifted one shoulder in a graceful shrug. “It is, however, your choice.”

  I went still, clutching the pills in one hand. He could have said that before I spent a couple of shaking minutes trying to get the damn pills out of the bottle. He’s fucking with me, I realized. Pushing my buttons. I didn’t know if it was to test me or to torment me, but either way, now that I recognized it, I knew how to deal with it. Buttons got pushed all the time when you were a cop, especially as a female.

  Sweat trickled down the side of my face from the pain, but I smiled, replaced the pills in the bottle, and snapped the cap back on. This good lord/bad lord game sucked. Wasn’t it just a few hours ago he was healing me and telling me about how the zrila made his ties? “That’s very kind of you to share that information,” I said, voice dripping with honey and false gratitude. “It warms the very cockles of my heart to know that you hold such a deep concern for my well-being.”

  The lord’s face darkened. “You will remember your place, Kara Gillian.”

  I gave him my best wide-eyed innocent look. “Oh, I know my place, Lord Mzatal,” I said, and tapped the collar with my middle finger. A crash to my right told me that Idris had dropped the water glass he was holding, but I kept my smile in place and my finger extended.

  He narrowed his eyes but then turned and departed without blasting me into several squishy
bits. I exhaled as the door closed behind him and dropped my head back to the pillows. Maybe, possibly, I won this round?

  “Holy shit,” Idris breathed. “Holy shit!”

  “First off, try saying ‘fuckballs’ every now and then for variety,” I said, breathing a bit raggedly as the brief adrenaline surge wore off. “Second, could I please have some water?”

  “Oh, water.” He looked down with dismay at the broken glass at his feet, then swung back to the table. A near-comic sigh of relief escaped him as he found an intact glass. He poured water and brought it back to me. “Fuckballs,” he said, trying out the new word. “Fuckballs, Kara, but you’re insane.”

  My hands shook as I took the water, but I managed to drink some before handing it back to him. “Idris, at this point, what do I have to lose? If I roll over, I’m dead. Might as well let him believe I have a spine.” I met his eyes. “Remember, fake bravery is better than none at all.”

  “Yeah, but…” He shook his head. “I mean, that’s Mzatal!”

  I let out a breathless laugh. “And I’m Kara. And you’re Idris.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” He glanced at my leg, grimaced. “I mean, more than you already are.”

  “I’m at his mercy, Idris,” I said quietly. “He doesn’t need a reason to hurt me. I might as well show that I won’t go down without at least the semblance of a fight.”

  “Yeah. Shit.” He sighed. “I don’t think I could be like you.”

  I snorted. “Of course not. You should be like you, but the best you you can be.” I frowned. “Not sure that made any sense, but hopefully you get the idea.”

  “It kinda made sense. I guess,” he said, though his forehead puckered in mild confusion.

  Gestamar returned carrying a mug. He moved to my side and held it out for me. I took it warily and sniffed the watery green contents. It reminded me of freshly mowed grass but didn’t smell vile or anything, which surprised me. I was certain Mzatal would find a way to make any meds he gave me utterly nasty.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking the mug. “I should drink all of this?”

  “As much as you can,” he rumbled. “Mzatal requested this amount.”

  I took a deep breath and began to chug it down, then had to stop, nearly gagging. Smell was definitely no way to judge. “Holy…gah! That’s like drinking a diaper.”

  The reyza crouched. “If you do not drink it, it will not help with the pain.”

  I didn’t even bother scowling. This was another test or torment, depending on point of view. Steeling myself, I managed to chug the rest of it down. The nasty shit had better kick the pain’s ass. Shuddering, I handed the empty mug back to Gestamar. “Idris, water, please.”

  He pressed a glass into my hand. I drank, but it didn’t seem to do much good. Fuck Mzatal, I thought sourly. What the hell was Idris doing with this asshole?

  “If you’re here fostering with this lord, then doesn’t that mean you’re pretty hot shit in some way?” I asked Idris,

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I do okay with the summoning stuff.”

  I took another drink of water in a futile attempt to clear the slimy vile taste from my mouth, then gave Idris a sharp look. “Wait. You do ‘okay’? Do you really believe that?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You summoned me, damn it. You’re more than ‘okay’ if you managed that.” I sighed, shook my head. “Idris, it’s okay to be proud of the shit you can do well. Trust me, there are plenty of people more than ready to tear you down. Why give them a headstart?”

  He stared at me, then flushed. “Yeah, I did good with that,” he said, smiling with—at last—a touch of pride. “It was hard.”

  “Yeah, well, I wasn’t going down without a fight.”

  Movement in the doorway caught my eye, and I did a double take as an ilius coiled into the room. The waist-high demon curled and spiraled within a haze of confusing multicolored smoke. Flashes of teeth, or an eye, or sinuous body appeared and disappeared seemingly at random. I’d summoned an ilius a few times before, finding them very useful as trackers in my police work, kind of like a demon version of a bloodhound. I didn’t know much about them except that they consumed essence as their sustenance and, according to Rhyzkahl, didn’t have a taste for humans. I’d always sated them on nutria as payment for their services, and they seemed content enough. Though the thing didn’t appear to touch the floor at all, it was definitely more substantial and colorful than the ones I’d summoned to Earth.

  “Um…Idris? Why is there an ilius in here?” I asked as the demon drift-coiled its way to the balcony.

  Idris glanced over at the creature then back to me. “That’s just Dakdak looking for Mzatal. Well, not actually looking for him,” he said. “Since the ilius is here, it means Mzatal will most likely arrive within a minute or two. I don’t mind. It’s kinda like an early warning system.” He grinned.

  That was just too damn funny, and I laughed outright, though it may have had something to do with the shit I just drank. “So you’re telling me big bad Mzatal has a pet ilius named Dakdak he hangs with?” I lifted the glass for another cleansing drink of water.

  “Yeah. Four close ones actually—Dakdak, Krum, Tata, and Wuki—and a bunch more that just hang out at his place. They’re not pets though.”

  I snorted water out my nose, laughing so hard it hurt. “Tata? And…Wuki?” I managed to gasp out. Then the room abruptly tilted. I dropped my head back and clutched at the bed.

  “What’s wrong?” Idris asked, aflutter again.

  “I think—” I shook my head, instantly regretting it. “The green shit works,” I slurred, right before the world fell away.

  Chapter 9

  Morning sun slanted onto the bed through the broad windows, waking me. I groaned and rolled onto my side, then blinked, suddenly fully awake.

  That didn’t hurt.

  Sitting up, I tugged off the blanket to look at my leg—my unsplinted and undamaged leg. Relief flooded me, near dizzying in its intensity. Mzatal must have indeed followed the ilius into the room and completed the healing. Whether he had a change of heart or had simply been fucking with me, at this point I didn’t care. The important thing for now was that my leg was still there and, apparently, as good as new.

  A quick assessment of the rest of me revealed that not only was everything else healed up, but I was also clean and wearing different clothing.

  “Now that’s a nice health care plan,” I murmured, sliding a hand over the spot on my torso that had so recently housed a tree branch. Not even a scar remained to show it had ever happened.

  I startled as Jekki and Faruk burst into the room without knocking, carrying a mug and a plate that they placed on the side table. “Eat! Drink! Leave soon!” they burbled in unison, and then were gone in a swirl of blue fur and tails.

  My smile faded and my gut clenched at the thought of going to Mzatal’s realm, but I went ahead and drank the chak and ate the—. Okay, I had no idea what it was and thought it might be better that way. It looked like a plate of cat turds drizzled with mustard, but had a texture like biting into a grape and a meaty taste with a zing of sweet spice. Totally weird but yummy. As soon as I was finished, Gestamar stepped into the room, almost as if he’d been waiting.

  “It is time,” he said, deep voice resonating. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought he was trying to sound ominous. I obediently followed him down to the entry corridor where Mzatal waited. The lord gave me an up and down assessing look but said nothing. I didn’t know if he was checking out his healing skills or what. The lord confounded me, running cold to lukewarm, though the undercurrent of I-can-kill-you-any-time-I-want-to sort of put a damper on anything beyond cold.

  Gestamar kept a hand on my upper arm as we headed through the south doors and outside. What’d they think I was going to do? Make a break for it? We stopped while Mzatal closed the doors and laid a shitload of wards, then he led the way down the path with long strides. He wasn’t
wearing the Armani; today the outfit was black pants, black boots, and a crimson knee-length coat, intricately embroidered in gold around the cuffs and hem. The suit was a good look for him, but so was this.

  We passed the path to the shrine, and I glanced over to see if I could get a glimpse of Turek, but no luck. I felt the grove before we reached the tree tunnel—a subtle rippling touch like a breeze through leaves. Smiling, I entered the shady passage, and the touch shifted to a welcoming caress. Ahead, Idris, Ilana, Safar, and the two faas waited along with three ilius, and the unknown reyza and zhurn who I’d seen playing the strange rock-paper-scissors in the courtyard. To my relief, Safar seemed well recovered.

  Power hummed around us as we stepped farther in. Even though I’d already had the experience of a lifetime in the grove, I looked around in rapt fascination as if I’d been out for a walk and suddenly smelled something amazing and had to stop and find the source. I inhaled as the grove enveloped me; a questing presence that the collar had no power to block.

  Anxiety and fear slipped away as I welcomed the touch of the grove and felt the power of it hum through the white trunks around us. I exhaled in wonder, only distantly aware of Mzatal’s focus on me. Idris moved to the lord’s side and the two exchanged low words, but I was far too entranced by the feel of the grove to pay much attention.

  The grove presence retreated as we clustered near the center. Mzatal crouched and placed his hands on a low smooth knob of wood that reminded me of a cypress knee. He channeled a burst of potency into it, and I understood that he wasn’t powering the grove as much as he was making an offering to it. Frowning, I wondered how I knew that. It wasn’t an Elinor memory or a déjà vu sensation, but I knew.

  He stood and gestured everyone in close. I caught a glimpse of movement in the trees ahead. I felt a dropping sensation, and then between one blink of an eye and the next, we were in a different grove.

  It looked a lot like the one we left, ringed with white trunks, but it was more elongated, had a “flavor” to it that felt different, and the hum resonated lower.