Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian)

  I smiled, deeply pleased as I felt his intent. “You got it, Boss.” The rhythm of the healing patterns felt familiar now after working with him on Bryce, and I slipped into our connection effortlessly.

  Mzatal shifted his hold and worked the stiffness in her joints. “You will soon find it easier to summon again.”

  Rasha inhaled sharply as healing warmth suffused her hands, and understanding dawned in her eyes an instant later. “Oh my,” she murmured, then closed her eyes and sat quiet and still while we worked.

  A few minutes later she opened them again, brow puckered. Mzatal’s lips twitched in a smile as we continued to work the healing. “Speak, Rasha.”

  A whisper of fear crossed her face as she realized he could read her thoughts. “My lord, I meant no offense.”

  “Speak,” he repeated.

  She took a careful breath. “You call her beloved,” she said quietly, no doubt embarrassed I could hear, but unwilling to defy the lord’s command.

  He moved his hands to her wrists, and his smile grew fond. “Yes. I only speak the truth.”

  “Yet she calls you Boss, my lord?” she asked, clearly perplexed and probably wondering why he tolerated such disrespect. I studiously kept my eyes slightly unfocused as if I wasn’t paying any attention and carefully suppressed a smile.

  “She does indeed name me such,” he agreed. “Frequently.” Mzatal’s smile kicked up another degree. “It is the energy behind the word, not the word itself,” he explained. “Have you not heard a human speak a term of endearment, yet put such harsh intent behind it that it could as easily have been a knife to the essence?”

  The old summoner let out a dry chuckle. “Ah, yes, of course.” Then she gave a wistful sigh. “My Sapar, he would call me his third doughnut. Odd, to be sure, but he meant it sweetly. I miss him still.” Her forehead creased, as if struggling to recall those days with her long dead husband.

  “You have lived long alone,” he murmured.

  She looked into the distance, smile trembling. “I had my granddaughter Jade for many years after my son and his wife died,” she said, then sighed. “Such a joy she was, despite all she’d endured. So beautiful.”

  Mzatal gently released her hands, then brushed his fingers along her temple. Her expression cleared, and joy replaced the confusion as if Mzatal had dusted off those old memories.

  “Oh . . . my lord.” She lifted her hands, opened and closed her fingers, eyes brimming with tears. “You have given me a great gift.”

  “One richly deserved,” he replied.

  “Rasha, you have my number by your phone,” I said. “Call me if anyone threatens or pressures you, and especially if anyone tries to hurt you.”

  She nodded grateful assent.

  “Now you must rest,” Mzatal said and sent her into sleep before she could either protest or thank him. With a tenderness that few, other than I, had ever witnessed, he lifted the aged summoner and settled her on the couch. His hand remained on her shoulder for several more heartbeats before he straightened and drew a light blanket over her.

  “I have eased her memory of the ritual,” he told me quietly. “She is able to remember it, but only with focus and intent. It will no longer haunt her.”

  “You’re such a softy,” I said with a low laugh, and planted a not-soft kiss on his mouth. He’d expended a good portion of his reserves with the healing, and I resolved to get him home to the mini-nexus as soon as possible.

  Bryce and Paul and I finished cleaning up the kitchen and the broken porcelain, while Mzatal restored the wards in her house and beefed them up to demonic lord levels. At long last we departed, leaving Rasha sleeping peacefully on the sofa.

  Eilahn emerged from a clump of brush on the other side of the street, smiled and readied the motorcycle. I kept my hand in Mzatal’s as we walked back to the SUV. “I’m proud of you.” I slid a glance his way.

  He gave me a sidelong look in return. “My heaviness met your expectation?”

  “Well, you did a fair bit of looming for the first part of the visit,” I pointed out.

  His brows drew together. “I was simply heavy.” Before I could reply, he moved swiftly behind me, aura shifting to black menace as he pressed close against my back. I felt his breath on my neck as he spoke with dark and sinister horror. “This is looming.”

  I sucked in a gasping breath and had to bite back a cry of terror. Ahead of me, Bryce staggered and clutched at the SUV, face paling. Clenching my teeth, I drove an elbow back into Mzatal’s gut.

  He grunted at the blow, then let out an actual laugh, horrific aura dissipating to his normal “heavy” mojo in an instant. Bryce and Paul turned to stare at the lord, both apparently finding the laughter almost more disturbing then the menace.

  I couldn’t help but laugh as well. It felt good. “Holy shit, she’d have keeled over dead if you’d done that to her.” Throwing my arms around his neck, I planted a kiss on him, and didn’t mind at all when he wrapped his arms around me and returned it with a fervor that was possibly illegal on the streets of Austin, Texas.

  Reluctantly, and only because Bryce and Paul were doing their best to look anywhere but at us, I broke the kiss. “Let’s get back home,” I said. “And if we run into Asher or Jerry or Katashi or Farouche, you can loooooom all you want.”

  Chapter 34

  I waited until we were at least an hour out of Austin and then took an exit onto a small dark highway with a closed diner and one lone gas station. Four pumps. Grimy windows. Probably had the bathroom key attached to a hub cap. Only one car, which was likely the clerk’s since it was parked near the back of the building. It was the kind of station that no female traveling alone—especially in the middle of the night—would ever patronize except in a dire emergency.

  It was perfect.

  “Paul, any cameras?” I glanced in the rear view mirror as I drove past the station and saw him already typing away on his laptop.

  “Hang on.” He muttered to himself for another few seconds, then looked up in triumph. “Got it. It’s an old system, so best I can do is shut it off. Should work okay.”

  “You’re a god, Paul.”

  He blushed and grinned. I turned around then pulled in at the front pump and shut off the engine. “I’ll go get snacks and stuff,” he announced, undoing his seat belt.

  Bryce snorted. “You just want to see if they have Krunch ‘n Krackle.”

  Paul laughed. “I’m addicted.” To my surprise he then looked at Mzatal. “Lord Mzatal, you wanna come with me?”

  My surprise increased when a smile touched the lord’s face. “I do, Paul.”

  Bemused, I watched as the pair exited the SUV and headed toward the station, Paul chattering companionably about how awesome Krunch ‘n Krackle was, and Mzatal apparently listening closely and murmuring responses. He likes Paul, I thought, pleased and weirdly relieved. Mzatal’s incredible capacity for affection and love had gone untapped and unused for far too long. Millennia. He needed friends.

  I could relate, though on a much smaller scale. It was only in the past year that I’d developed an honest-to-god circle of friends. My posse. Even when things were at their shittiest, knowing these people had me in their thoughts made all the difference in the world.

  I climbed out as Eilahn stopped at the pump behind us. She parked the bike, swung her leg over and shook her hair out of her helmet, then stood and preened a bit. I couldn’t blame her. If I looked that damn good on a motorcycle I’d likely do the same thing. She still rode Tessa’s bike, which I realized now probably wasn’t cut out for long highway road trips. Eilahn needed something more powerful—something fast. A sleek crotch-rocket or a model equally dangerous to mere humans. I smiled at the thought. Maybe when the FBI paid me.

  Bryce came around the back of the SUV, eyes going to Eilahn for long enough to prove he was a healthy heterosexual male, but not so long as to be pervy. “I’ll pump,” he told me with an easy smile.

  “I’ll watch and pay,” I replied and
swiped my card on the pump, maintaining faith in Paul’s assertion that it couldn’t be tracked. My gaze went to the sight of Mzatal and Paul within the store. What would the super powerful demonic lord make of a back-country gas station? Did it have a big jar of pickled pigs feet on the counter? Or a container of boiled eggs suspended in an odd red liquid? In my entire lifetime of living in the South, I’d never been brave enough to try either staple of southern culture. I’d stick to M&Ms, thank you very much.

  My musings came to a sharp halt as a vehicle pulled off the highway, and my gut did a nasty lurch at the sight of the light bar on top of the Crown Victoria.

  “Shit,” Bryce murmured from beside me.

  I kept the pleasant smile on my face as the cop pulled up and parked along the side of the station. Sheriff’s deputy. A sergeant, I noted as he exited his vehicle. Late thirties, tan shirt over brown trousers. Service weapon and a deceptively casual air. No gut. Fit and trim.

  He gave me a polite nod and smile, then did a once-over assessment of Bryce, the SUV, and Eilahn, in a way that let me know he was more than some local yokel. This was a cop with a good eye who took his job seriously and probably had some damn good instincts. I loved his type, but damn, it was inconvenient for him to show up right now. Hell, he probably pulled in because there’s a carload of people and a motorcycle here in the middle of the night, I decided. That’s what a good cop would do, especially at a place right off the highway in the middle of nowhere with only one clerk working.

  The deputy finished his assessment, gave us all another nod-smile then turned and headed toward the front door of the station.

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Bryce, hang tight. I’m going to check on our two.”

  His jaw tightened. “Damn it. I shouldn’t have let Paul out of my sight.”

  “I’ll get them,” I said. “It’s all good.” I headed toward the door, trying to hurry without actually looking as if I was hurrying. Easy, right? Mzatal and Paul were still visible through the window. Paul was describing something, using animated gestures to emphasize his point. Mzatal actually smiled at whatever he said, and it wasn’t a polite, indulgent smile either. Mzatal didn’t do those.

  A bell dinged as the deputy opened the door “Hey, Georgie,” I heard him say as he gave a nod to the clerk. “Anything happening?”

  “Hey, Frank! Didja hear that Joe Johnson wrecked his—” Whatever Joe Johnson wrecked was cut off as the door closed behind the deputy. As I approached the entrance I could see Frank perfectly well, watched him do a scan-sweep of the store as he spoke to the clerk and checked the mirrors. His focus sharpened on Mzatal. And his face changed.

  Mzatal abruptly lifted his gaze from Paul to the deputy, and his entire bearing transformed from the relaxed ease to Demonic Lord. The cop’s right hand went to the butt of his gun in what I knew was a purely instinctive reaction to a perceived threat.

  “Lemme see your hands!” Frank shouted, eyes wide. I knew what he felt—power and menace held in tight control. And if he was even the slightest bit sensitive, Mzatal’s mojo would hit him that much harder. I barely managed to restrain myself from yanking the door open and barreling in. In this scenario, that would be a good way to get myself shot.

  Paul let out a yelp and dropped the bags of Krunch ‘n Krackle in his hands, but Mzatal’s aura only grew heavier at the shouted order. The deputy’s breath quickened, and he drew his gun. His face showed his confusion as he sensed danger, even though there was nothing identifiable as a threat. I carefully pulled the door open, distantly noting that the clerk had wisely chosen to take refuge somewhere out of sight behind the counter.

  Damn it. I knew the demonic lords weren’t the type to obey meekly, but surely every now and then they could unbend and cooperate a teensy bit?

  Lift your hands and show him they’re empty! I mentally “shouted” at Mzatal while I kept my eyes on Frank and my own hands in very plain sight. To my undying relief Mzatal slowly lifted his hands, though he still radiated power like a nuclear reactor.

  “Deputy, he’s not armed,” I said, pitching my voice low and calm but clear enough to carry. Can you please pull your damn aura in some? I thought furiously at Mzatal. “It’s okay. We’re not causing any trouble.”

  Frank heard me. I knew that much by the battle between logic and gut instinct that played out on his face. His gun was out, but he hadn’t yet raised it to point at Mzatal. Thank everything for that, because I could imagine all too well what the lord’s response might have been if he’d felt threatened.

  I risked a quick glance to Mzatal. “Boss . . . rein it in.” It wasn’t exactly an order. More like a Holy fucking christ, if you love me at all will you please do this tiny little goddamn thing for me? Then again, he too was operating on instinct, reacting in patterns carved by millennia of interactions with humans and other lords. “There’s no trouble here,” I repeated to the deputy. “No one is causing any problems or creating a threat. You know that, right?”

  Frank’s gaze remained locked with Mzatal’s. The deputy licked his lips, drew a shaky breath. “I . . . don’t know what I know.”

  Mzatal ended the stare-down and turned his eyes to me as he slowly lowered his hands and pygahed. Immediately the intense, smothering pressure of his aura diminished to its typical I-can-kill-you-anytime-I-want-and-don’t-you-forget-it level. He inclined his head slightly in my direction, and I knew he’d toned it down and stepped back from the confrontation as a concession to me.

  As Mzatal looked away, Frank blinked and gave his head a slight shake. He swallowed hard, then looked down at the gun in his hand. His face paled as he hurriedly shoved it into his holster. “Jesus,” he muttered, voice cracking.

  I damn near wilted in relief and went ahead and put a hand on the beef jerky display to steady myself. “Paul, go back to the car, please,” I managed. “I’ll buy your snacks.”

  He gulped and obeyed with alacrity. The bell on the door dinged behind him as he did a fast-walk to the SUV.

  Mzatal was not so pliant and moved toward the deputy instead of toward me and the door and the highway and away from this place and this whole situation. Shit.

  “Deputy, he won’t hurt you,” I told the man, watching the struggle on his face to not step back, to not draw his gun as Mzatal closed the distance between them. This was instinct again, a big Alpha Dog putting a little yappy thing in its place, holding teeth around its neck until it shut up. “He won’t hurt you,” I repeated while I silently cursed ingrained patterns of behavior. “I swear it.”

  Mzatal paused barely within Frank’s personal space, face utterly unreadable, which was a scary-as-hell expression in its own right. He gazed down at the man for half a dozen heartbeats while the cop firmed his jaw and struggled to maintain control.

  Finally Mzatal moved past the deputy, past me, and out the door.

  Frank let out a ragged breath as the bell dinged behind Mzatal. His stress showed as he clenched and unclenched his hands, but he didn’t make a move to stop Mzatal from leaving. I hurried to the snack aisle, grabbed a handful of the Krunch ‘n Krackle, then ran back to the front and threw a twenty dollar bill on the counter.

  “Keep the change!” I called to the still cowering clerk, then hit the door at a run. “Fucking hell,” I muttered. This whole incident stood as a stark reminder that none of the lords were tame or culturally socialized. Even with Mzatal on super-best behavior, this had been a near-disaster. It chilled me to think of an unscrupulous lord loose on Earth.

  I yanked the driver’s door of the SUV open, then stopped dead. Everyone was in the vehicle and belted in, even Mzatal. Except that Mzatal was in the driver’s seat.

  I spluttered something that was probably best left unsaid, then took a deep breath. “Boss? What are you doing?”

  He gave me an implacable look. “Waiting for you to get into the vehicle so that we may depart.”

  I shot Bryce a horrified glance. He shrugged in response and gave me a slightly pained look that clearly said, How t
he fuck was I supposed to stop him?

  “You all need rest,” Mzatal stated. “I will drive.”

  Scowling, I shut the door, ran around, and climbed into the front passenger seat. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s get the hell out of here.” I tossed the bags into the back seat for Paul, and remained tense as Mzatal started the engine and pulled away from the pump.

  “Paul said the cop freaked out,” Bryce said, lingering tension in his voice. “What happened?”

  “Yeah, he did!” Paul exclaimed, already typing furiously on his laptop. “We were just looking at the snacks and all of a sudden the deputy was like—” he dropped his voice to be more cop-like, “—‘lemme see your hands!’” He blew out a breath. “No reports so far. No pings.” He looked up. “What did he say after I left? Did he ID us or what?”

  I shook my head. “Not that I know of unless he ran the tags. The SUV would come back to the rental, but Eilahn’s motorcycle is registered to my aunt.” I paused, giving a hard look up and down the highway as Mzatal pulled onto it and headed toward the interstate. “The cop must be sensitive,” I continued. “He really felt Mzatal’s aura.”

  “Yes, he is, and he did,” Mzatal stated.

  Bryce muttered something foul under his breath then glanced over at Paul. “Anything ping yet? Did he run us?”

  “My connection sucks. I’m still checking.”

  “Just let us know if we need to watch for anyone coming after us,” I said. Then again, what the hell could the deputy do? He’d pulled his gun for no apparent reason. He might go ahead and run the tags out of curiosity, but I couldn’t fathom him pursuing us. And unless he jotted down the tag numbers as we were leaving, he’d be out of luck since Paul had hacked the gas station’s security.

  Still, I continued to check the rear view mirror obsessively. After several minutes of no blue and red flashing lights behind us, I finally turned to Mzatal.