Legacy of the Demon

  Well, that got his attention nicely. The dampening effect of Mzatal’s warding prevented him from sensing the state of the world—apart from the pervasive rakkuhr—and I’d made damn sure no one shared information with him. The less he knew about the his cohorts’ progress, the better. But since I wanted to pump him for information, this was the time to drop a few key details. “Where is right here on Earth, and when is these past two months—sometimes on a daily basis. Your Jontari invasion strategy is in full swing.”

  He recoiled as if stung, lordly aplomb forgotten for the moment. “Kara, tell me what has happened.”

  I offered a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, nothing too special. Just that ever since Katashi blew a hole in the dimensions, demons have been coming through rifts all over the world.”

  A vein throbbed at his temple. “The Jontari are not my allies.”

  “Oh, whew!” I said, dragging a hand across my forehead in mock relief. Did he really expect me to believe that the demon incursions weren’t part of the Mraztur’s plan to take over Earth? “That is such a load off my mind. I’m so glad you set the record straight!” I allowed myself a moment of grim amusement at the petulant scowl that crossed his face. “Now that we’ve established that you’re oh-so-very innocent, we can move on to the good stuff: How do I summon a Jontari imperator?”

  Composure regained, he eyed me as if I’d asked him how to drain the sea. “An imperator? Impossible.”

  “No, it’s not,” I replied. “It’s been done before, and I may opt to go for it in the near future.” Time to play my trump card. “Elinor is on Earth, locked away by Xharbek in a secure facility.” I didn’t miss his twitch of reaction. “An imperator is one possible means of recovering her.”

  “Elinor is on Earth,” he echoed. “Alive and whole, else you would have no need to retrieve her.” His words were measured and even, a little too controlled. He’d been fond of her—as much as he was capable. Nearly a year ago, I’d learned through one of Elinor’s dreams that Rhyzkahl had popped her cherry, and it was only yesterday that I experienced a dream-glimpse of his melancholy when he lost her.

  “I don’t know what condition she’s in,” I said.

  The leap of a muscle in his jaw was the only sign that my words affected him. “You are correct in your assumption that a qaztahl-bound reyza would be unable to accomplish the task. Their talents lie elsewhere.”

  “Yeah, I’ve realized that Gestamar and Kehlirik are essentially giant winged nerds.”

  A whisper of amusement flitted across his face before vanishing beneath a mask of scorn. “You have never performed a dangerous summoning,” he stated, “nor been in true jeopardy from any demon summoned. Even had one made an earnest effort to break your bindings—which they never have—you would have survived the experience.” He lowered his head, eyes hard on mine. “I am the only one who chose to break your pathetic bindings, and I did so with ease—for my amusement. A Jontari would do the same. But instead of granting you the carnal pleasure you craved, he would slaughter you and all those in this compound”—he sneered—“whom you hold so dear.”

  “I know it’s possible to summon one and survive,” I said. “I’ve learned a few things since that night in my basement.”

  “I am certain Mzatal has trained you well to service a cock.”

  No way was I going to rise to his bait. “I know far more about the arcane and summoning now,” I said, holding onto calm. “Let’s try this again. How do I summon an imperator?”

  “Your chekkunden lover refused to offer aid?”

  “This has nothing to do with Mzatal. I’m asking you. I’m open to any advice you’re willing to give.” But even as the words left my mouth, I shook my head. I was wasting my breath. “Who am I kidding? You won’t help me. This is the part where you demand release, and then I tell you I can’t. All right, go ahead. Let’s get that over with.”

  “I will not demand release,” he growled. “Nor will I aid you in this mad undertaking. You have not the means to control an imperator.”

  I regarded him for a thoughtful moment. “What if I had a gimkrah?”

  He visibly startled. “How do you know of such?”

  My pulse quickened. Score! “I read a lot. Well? How does a gimkrah help, and where can I get one?”

  It was at least a dozen heartbeats before he finally spoke. “They were artifacts created to subdue Jontari. But the two held by Earth summoners are long lost.” He waved a hand. “Kara Gillian, this is folly. You must seek another way to retrieve Elinor.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” I snapped. “Let me know if you decide you really do want to help her.” I turned away to stalk back to the house, but he spoke before I took two steps.

  “Mzatal possessed the master gimkrah.”

  I spun on my heel. “Does he still have it?”

  Rhyzkahl’s mouth twisted. “He is unlikely to have rid himself of it. Such an artifact will be well hidden and protected.” He met my eyes. “Even with a gimkrah, you have not the strength, skill, or experience to craft bindings strong enough to contain an imperator.”

  Annoyance prickled. “Gee, maybe because there’s a conspiracy to hide information about the Jontari from us puny humans?”

  “Be that as it may, you are not equipped,” he said, tone imperious. “You will die in the attempt. Seek a different means.”

  Though I knew all too well that Rhyzkahl was an excellent liar, I felt certain he was telling it to me straight—not for my sake, but for Elinor’s.

  Fine. I didn’t have the know-how to create the right bindings. But I did have the sudden spark of a potentially clever idea.

  “What if we cheat?” I spread my hands. “We use graphene-enhanced nets on the demons that come through the rifts. So far, they can’t break them. Add an electric charge from a power supply, and we can incapacitate the demons as well.”

  Rhyzkahl stared at me with a You can do that? expression. “Physical restraint has never been successfully employed in summonings.”

  “That’s because the physical means were crap back in the good ol’ days. We have science on our side now.” I hid my amusement as Rhyzkahl adjusted to this new paradigm.

  “If you are able to locate the master gimkrah,” he said reluctantly, “and if this netting works as you claim, there is a remote possibility you might survive the summoning of a Jontari imperator.”

  “I’m not afraid of the odds,” I lied. “What does the gimkrah look like?”

  “An orb of crystal”—he held his hands apart as if gripping a cantaloupe—“with a heart of blood, bound with makkas.”

  Makkas. The pinkish demon realm metal that dampened the arcane. Made sense that it would be used in a tool meant to control an arcane being. “Thank you.” I paused. “I’ll get her back, one way or another.”

  Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. “Kara, there are yet perils to summoning a Jontari.”

  “There are perils to everything,” I said. “But I have to start somewhere.”

  • • •

  I left Rhyzkahl’s charming company and headed toward the war room, but Bryce intercepted me in the kitchen.

  “A letter came for you,” he said, face in neutral mode.

  “Seriously? Who sends snail mail these days?” The U.S. Postal Service managed to forge through snow and rain and heat and gloom of night, but “demon pestilence” cramped their style a bit. Especially in the Beaulac area. “And what warrants hand delivery by the head of security?”

  Without comment, he held the envelope out to me. As I took it, the handwriting on the front answered my question. Tessa.

  My chest constricted with fury. “Why the fuck is she—” I clamped down on the internal volcano of anger, frustration, confusion, and loss. No good careening down an ugly, dead road while important shit needed to be dealt with. That was probably the whole reason she’d sent it
—to rattle me and screw with my head. If I ever find that woman—

  Bryce placed a hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

  “Thanks. For this.” I held up the envelope and smiled brightly, well aware that I wasn’t fooling him one bit. Before I could derail again, I shoved the envelope deep into my pocket where I wouldn’t have to think about it for a few minutes. “As of yesterday, there was a SkeeterCheater with power supply snowed in at the Memphis supply facility,” I said in a sharp change of subject. “I’d like it in our arsenal as a just-in-case, but I don’t want to go through any official channels.” Not only would official channels mean lots of questions that I had no desire to answer, but I knew for a fact that, with the shortage, their reply would be Fuck no, are you fucking nuts?

  Bryce gave me a mock-puzzled look. “And you’re telling me this because I’m such a good listener?”

  “Sure,” I said then quirked a smile. “That and your experience with organized crime.”

  He exhaled a tragic sigh. “I really need to edit my résumé.” His brow creased as he considered the problem.

  “I know this isn’t your typical under-the-table deal,” I said, grimacing. “We’re talking theft of critical military equipment, which means there are a shitload of risks associated with it.”

  “You’re right about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’ll be pricey, I’m warning you now, but I’ll see what I can find out.”

  “Awesome. Once we know more, we can decide if it’s worth it or not.”

  That done, we headed to the war room, where Pellini had moved on from cleaning guns to working on DIRT reports.

  “I know our AWOL four are in the Beaulac area,” I said, “and for a host of reasons, it’s past time that we drag their asses home and spoil Xharbek’s plans.”

  Pellini looked up from the computer. “Have you narrowed their location down to something more precise than ‘all of Beaulac’?”

  “No, but earlier today Idris suggested checking places where there’s been arcane activity.”

  He hmmfed through his mustache. “Not sure how much that narrows it down. Around here, that’s like searching a swamp for places that are wet.” He did some computer magic and pulled up a satellite map of Beaulac on the wall screen. “You’ve got the usual suspects—the Spires, the police department. Maybe other places with valves?”

  Bryce peered at the map. “Kara, what about the warehouse where you and I first met?”

  “That definitely counts as having arcane activity, especially with the valve node in it.” I moved around the table and tapped the spot on the screen. “Plus, Ryan and Zack have both been there.” A little red X appeared over the warehouse, and I shot Pellini a grateful look. “I can’t see them hiding out anywhere near the Spires since there’s so much military activity there, and the area around the PD is a mess and under crazy tight guard. I suppose it’s possible that they’re camping out by another valve, but right now the warehouse is high on the list . . .” My stomach did a little flip, and I pointed to an area on the outskirts of town. “As is the community outreach center.”

  “Where you died,” Jill said from the doorway. Her face was calm, but worry and hope shadowed her eyes.

  I gave her a slow nod. Technically, I’d died in the demon realm, but I’d received my mortal injury at the outreach center. “I don’t intend to repeat the experience,” I said. “As for the other valves, the nature center is the most likely campout spot.”

  “Where Angus McDunn stripped your abilities,” Jill added helpfully.

  “I’ve left pieces of me all over town.” I smiled wryly. “And yes, you’re absolutely on the away team for this venture.”

  She pursed her lips. “As if you could keep me off it.”

  “The force of your personality might have factored into the decision,” I said. “Okay, we have three strong location contenders, and Szerain and Zack are familiar with each of them.”

  “I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Giovanni,” Bryce said. “Plus, I need to make some calls.”

  I nodded. “Pellini? You in?”

  “Only if I get to drive the Humvee.”

  “Works for me. That way I can nap.” I shifted and felt the letter crinkle in my pocket. “Let’s get geared up and plan to leave in fifteen.” Without waiting for an answer, I went to my bedroom, locked the door, then pulled out the letter.

  The envelope was battered and filthy, and bore a Royal Mail stamp with a Cardiff postmark from almost five weeks ago. No return information, but my name and address were in Tessa’s neat and distinctive handwriting. Bryce must have recognized it from when we cleared out her library. I had no idea what her evil-aunt masterplan was, now that fake-Katashi was out of the picture. She could be with his other summoners or even with the remnants of Farouche’s organization. Angus McDunn had been Farouche’s second in command and was currently in the wind. She’d avoided Idris when he spotted her at the rift in India. All I knew for sure was that, in over two months, this was her first attempt to contact me.

  I glared at the envelope for a moment while anxiety and ire played leapfrog in my chest. Finally, I flipped it over, pulled my combat knife from my boot, and slowly ran the tip of the blade under the flap, checking every millimeter for signs of arcane nasties. After finding none, I slid the letter out and unfolded it. It was handwritten on simple white printer paper, smudged with sooty fingerprints and a brownish streak that looked like blood.

  “Nice play for sympathy, Tessa,” I muttered. “Will you also have the ink trailing off the page at the end as if you were being attacked?”

  I read, all the while imagining her lying mouth speaking the words.

  Kara,

  A letter is the only way I have to reach you without interference, and even then, it’s only a slim chance. I wasn’t a good surrogate for your mother, I know, but I did the best I could given the circumstances at the time.

  I shook the paper. “You have the gall to bring up my mom in the same sentence as your own two-faced mothering? And what ‘circumstances’? The ones that had you grooming me for sacrifice so you could stay in good graces with Katashi and the Mraztur? What kind of person does that? You never gave a shit about me!”

  I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right. In hindsight, maybe there was a better way, but you have to believe me, I couldn’t see it then.

  “I’ve already wasted enough of my life believing you,” I growled. “And gee, I can’t see beyond Fuck You.”

  Everything has changed.

  “Yeah. Because Katashi blew a hole in our world. Can’t be his lapdog now that he’s dead, huh. Sucks for you.”

  There is so much I want to tell you, but I can’t like this.

  “Of course not.”

  I don’t expect you to forgive me, but maybe we can come to an understanding.

  “You got the first part right.”

  I’ll be at Lee Circle in New Orleans at 11pm on September 30. Please be there, sweetling. I need you. Tessa.

  “Seriously? You are so full of shit. Even if your dumb letter hadn’t arrived a week after the meeting, you think I’d’ve fallen for whatever game you’re playing?” Scowling, I stuffed the letter and envelope into my dresser drawer. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And all that.” I slammed the drawer shut. “And I’m not your damn sweetling!”

  “You okay in there?” Jill asked through the door.

  Stupid tears stung my eyes, and I swiped them away. “Yep!” I chirped. “Just getting my gear together.”

  “Uh huh. We’re ready when you are.”

  “Two minutes.” I quickly changed out of my DIRT uniform and into plain black fatigues. I got both tactical holsters strapped on but froze with one bootlace half tied. Katashi was dead, but his little empire wasn’t. If all the lords had, indeed, been truly shocked to learn that an as-yet-unknown
syraza had taken over Katashi’s identity, that meant someone besides a lord had trained the demon. That someone had to be a demahnk, and I had more than a sneaking suspicion that the culprit was none other than the Emperor of All Assholes, Xharbek.

  Frowning, I finished tying my bootlace. Xharbek had masqueraded as Carl, Tessa’s boyfriend. Though she wasn’t Katashi’s lapdog anymore, she might very well be the new Empress.

  I holstered my weapons then stepped out of my room with a bright smile for Jill.

  She gave me a cool, knowing look in return. “You want to talk about it?”

  Damn it. “Bryce told you.”

  “Uh huh, but I’d have known anyway,” she said. “You only get that look on your face when it has to do with her.” With that, she gently but firmly pushed me back into the bedroom, closed the door then held out her hand, palm up. With a sigh, I retrieved the letter and handed it over.

  She read it, lips pursed. “Well, I can see why you’re upset.”

  “Duh! Tessa stabbed me in the back, and now she wants to justify it to me.”

  Jill skimmed the letter once more before she passed it back. “She hamstrung you.”

  “Huh?”

  “Hamstrung. Crippled.” She angled her head. “Tessa told you she’d advocated for having your abilities stripped. She didn’t want to kill you.”

  It took me several seconds to find my voice. “Are you defending her?” I finally sputtered.

  “No,” Jill said sharply. “I’m defining the parameters of the situation.”

  “Fine.” I gritted out. “She hamstrung me, and she claims it was to keep them from killing me. But I think it’s because she—they—wanted me alive for some future plan. Either way, it was a fucking betrayal!”

  Her expression gentled. “And it broke your heart.” She moved to the bed and sat. “Tessa hurt you far more than Rhyzkahl did.”

  My throat tightened. Jill was right. I’d endured unspeakable agony at Rhyzkahl’s hands, but it couldn’t hold a candle to the pain Tessa had caused.

  Jill patted the comforter beside her, and I obediently sat.