Blood of the Demon
What I couldn’t tell was if it was open. I frowned as I crouched. It wasn’t open in the sense that I was familiar with—the slit of light making a doorway from one sphere to another—but it sure wasn’t closed either. It was … mushy was the best word I could come up with. Stuff could get through but not easily.
I looked sharply back at the doorway. Ryan and Jill stood just outside the door, watching me warily, but it wasn’t them I was interested in. “The wards,” I said, unintentionally hissing softly on the last s.
Ryan frowned. “What about them?”
“I think they were twofold.” Damn it.
“Why? What is that?”
“It’s … a portal. Sort of. A weak spot.”
“Oh, shit,” he breathed. “The wards kept stuff in as well as keeping things out.”
“Yeah,” I said with a groan. “There were wards all throughout the library, which I couldn’t understand. And when I had Kehlirik take down all the wards, that left that portal wide open, so to speak.”
Jill leaned against the wall, thumbs hooked into her jeans. “So why didn’t Kehlirik see that portal thingy?”
An unpleasant feeling settled in my stomach as I looked back at it. “I’m not sure. He was exhausted after clearing the wards, and with the books and other stuff piled all over, I guess he could have missed it.” I rubbed my arms. “Heck, it wasn’t until you moved all the stuff that we knew it was here.” But surely a demon of Kehlirik’s level would have been able to feel it. So why didn’t he say anything about it? Maybe because he had more reason not to? He’d wanted to speak to me—about Ryan. But after he cleared the library wards, suddenly it wasn’t as important. Because he’d found the portal? Now that I was close to it, I could feel a sickeningly familiar resonance about it. It’s probably big enough for that dog to have come through.
Could this portal also have something to do with the consumed essences? I considered it but then dismissed the idea. The portal had still been warded when Brian’s essence was eaten, so whatever was doing it couldn’t have come from this.
Ryan voiced the question that we were all thinking. “Can it be closed?”
I sighed. “I have no idea. I don’t even know if it should be closed.”
Ryan frowned, but Jill angled her head to the side. “Oh, like maybe this is a pressure valve or something?”
“Yeah. And that’s putting it a lot more clearly than I ever could have.” I eased my back into a more comfortable position. “I … have to see if my aunt comes back, and ask her.”
Jill shifted uncomfortably.
“And if she doesn’t come back,” I continued, throat tightening, “I’m going to have to ask, um, someone else.”
I swore I could hear Ryan’s teeth grind together. He muttered something under his breath and then spun away and strode down the hall. I clenched my hands and counted slowly to ten, then counted another ten for good measure.
Jill leaned her head out of the doorway to watch the retreating Ryan, then looked back at me, eyebrow raised questioningly.
“He and I had a bit of a discussion the other night wherein he stated that he was worried about me throwing myself at Rhyzkahl and falling for that pretty face and forgetting he’s a demon.”
She pursed her lips. “Hmm. And he doesn’t know that you and ole demon lord have already bumped uglies?”
“No, he does not,” I said. “And it’s going to stay that way, now that I know he considers it akin to selling my soul.”
A flicker of doubt passed over her face, and I sighed. “It’s not,” I assured her. “He’s not a ‘demon from hell’ kind of demon.”
“Then why are they called demons?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
“The same reason that midwives were called witches a few centuries ago. Fear of what is not understood.” I could hear the defensive tone in my voice, and it made me take a mental step back. I did fear Rhyzkahl. And I sure as hell didn’t understand him.
She pondered this for several heartbeats, then shrugged and lowered herself to sit cross-legged on the floor. “Okay, so you can summon demons. And can work magic or whatever—”
“I can shape arcane energy,” I explained.
“Uh-huh. Magic to me,” she said, nose wrinkling as she smiled. “But then again, electricity is magic to me too. Flip switch, light comes on. So what about other supernatural stuff?”
“Like what?”
“Like vampires and werewolves and witches and that sort of thing.”
I had to shrug. “I’ve never met any of those, as far as I know.” I shook my head. “I take that back. I’ve met witches, but they’re not the ride-the-broom, cast-spells kind of witches. But vampires and werewolves?” I shrugged again, but I thought instantly of the missing essences. Was that some form of vampirism? And what about that dog-thing? “I’m not going to say that they don’t exist, because who am I to say that, but I’ve never met a werewolf or vampire that I know of.”
She laughed. “Well, I don’t know much about your magic woowoo stuff, but, man, Ryan sure has a raging case of the jealous going on over your demon lord, doesn’t he?”
I made a sour face. “He’s not jealous, trust me. He just thinks I’ll forget who I am if I even look at Rhyzkahl.”
Jill gave me a measuring look, then sighed and rolled her eyes. “Y’know, for a smart chick, you can be seriously fucking clueless.”
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes right back at her. She was the clueless one if she thought Ryan’s grouchiness meant anything.
Fortunately, she didn’t seem to feel like arguing her point. “So do you think your aunt knew about that being there?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the corner of the library.
I blew my breath out. “She had to know. It doesn’t feel new. And I think I screwed up colossally by having all the wards taken down.” But I felt a renewed flare of annoyance at my aunt. Why couldn’t she have fucking told me about this? Surely a weakness in the fabric between the spheres was something that I needed to know about.
“Why didn’t your aunt tell you about this?” Jill asked in an echo of my thoughts.
I gripped my hair, then shook my head. “Probably the same reason that so many people don’t have wills. They don’t want to consciously think that they won’t have time to put things in order. Nobody wants to think about how sudden and unfair death can be. Everyone thinks that they’ll have those last few minutes to gasp out their final instructions.” I sighed. “Now I need to redo the wards as best I can and then summon a demon who can put them back as soon as possible.” I scowled. It was nowhere near a full moon, which meant that it would be a bitch to summon anything decent. And more dangerous.
“Well, let me get this crap over with,” I said. “Hopefully I can do enough to keep anything else from coming out.” Jill stepped back, and I focused on pulling enough potency to weave the protections I needed. It came to my control slowly, like taffy on a cold day, reminding me that I wasn’t exactly at my strongest. I hissed through my teeth as I shaped the sluggish energy, cautiously probing at the weak spot. I wasn’t sure I wanted any of my wards to actually touch the weakness, just in case it could be warped or shifted, so I compromised and made a little dome of energy over it. After finishing that, I backed out of the library and set another level of wards—both keep-out and keep-in wards.
I sighed as I looked them over. I sucked at crafting wards, but I had a shred of confidence that they would hold until I could summon something that could place some more-robust protections. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at my moon-phase calendar, even though I knew that it was only a week past the full. Another week until there was no moon. I’d have to give it a try then.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said to Jill, as I replaced the aversion on the front door. “I think we’ve done enough damage for one day.”
Chapter 20
IT DIDN’T FEEL LIKE A SUNDAY. I WAS USED TO MY weekends flying by, over before I could even blink, but
so much had happened in the past two days that I kept thinking it should be Wednesday at least. Or September.
But now time had slowed back down to a non-frenetic pace, and I had a list of crap that I needed to get done, plus some stuff that I merely wanted to get done. I was pleasantly sore from my trip to the gym the other day—just enough achiness to remind me that I liked having a few muscles—and I really didn’t want to gain back the pudge. So before I could talk myself out of it, I headed to the gym, taking the risk that I’d be shocking the people who worked there by showing up twice in one week.
At eight a.m. on a Sunday morning, the gym was practically deserted, unlike last time. With only a handful of people in the weights area, I was able to throw myself into my workout, welcoming the burn and the sweat as I attempted to drive away all of my uncertainties and insecurities.
At this rate, I was going to end up with six-pack abs.
“You’re making the rest of us look bad,” I heard from behind me as I waited for my pulse to slow between sets. I turned, reaching for my towel to wipe my sweaty face. A good-looking man gave me a friendly smile. I knew him, but my oxygen-starved brain refused to supply me with the information. “It’s a Sunday,” he said, smile widening. “Here we are talking about football and avoiding yard work, and you’re working up enough sweat for all of us.”
I grinned, flattered at the mild flirtation, just as the lightbulb went off over my head: Holy shit, this is Judge Roth. I’d seen him only in court or at the funeral, and he looked far different—and far more approachable—in simple shorts and a T-shirt.
“Sorry,” I said, still smiling. “But if y’all can’t keep up with me, that’s not my fault.”
He laughed. “I should know better than to tangle with strong women. There’s no way to win!” Then he gave me a more appraising look. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before. I’m Harris Roth,” he said, extending his hand. “Are you new here?”
I shook his hand. He had a nice, warm grip. “Kara Gillian.” I briefly debated mentioning that we’d met in passing in court, but then decided that would bring up too much other unpleasantness. “I’ve been a member here for a while, but my attendance is sporadic.”
He gave my hand a squeeze and then released it. “Good to meet you, Kara. I won’t keep you from your workout any longer, but I do hope to see you here again.” With that, he gave me another charming smile and turned away. I finished the rest of my workout quickly, bemused and more than a little stunned that I’d been seen as someone worth flirting with. Especially since I didn’t dress in the Cardio Barbie spandex attire that most of the other women here favored. My workout clothing consisted of running shorts, a Jogbra, and a T-shirt. Sexy.
I headed to the locker room and retrieved my gym bag. I’d just turned to head toward the shower area when a blond woman in perfect makeup sidled up to me—dressed in exactly the kind of spandex getup that I wouldn’t be caught dead in. To give the woman credit, though, it was obvious that she put in a lot of time and effort—and perhaps some surgical enhancement—to have the kind of body that looked damn good in spandex.
“I know you don’t know me,” she said in a low voice, “but I wanted to give you a bit of warning about Harris Roth.”
I looked at her expectantly. The expression on her face seemed sincere enough. “It’s none of my business, I know,” she continued, “but I’ve seen him charm his way into the pants of a lot of pretty girls. And he really doesn’t care what may happen to them afterward.”
It took me a couple of seconds to find my voice. “Um, thanks. But I have no intention of sleeping with him.”
She gave me a wry smile. “I’m glad you think so. But, trust me, he’s a charmer. Anyway, you seem sweet and I didn’t want to see someone else get screwed by Harris.”
My cop sense lit up like a Christmas tree. “Who else has been screwed by him?”
She hesitated, then shrugged. “Well, she’s not around anymore, so I guess it’s not too terrible to gossip.” The woman did a quick glance-around, then lowered her voice even further. “He had an affair with Elena Sharp, and then her husband kicked her out!”
I blinked. This was a far cry from the story that Elena had spun for me. “Wow.” Now it was my turn to do the furtive glance around. “And didn’t Harris’s son kill his wife and then himself?”
She sighed. “Yeah, that was awful. I mean, Harris is a bit of a sleazeball ‘playa,’ but that was a horrible thing to have happen.” I heard a bustle of women’s voices coming into the locker room, and the blonde stepped back. “Anyway,” she said, “I just wanted to make sure you knew what you were getting into.”
I gave her a grave nod, hiding my bemusement. “I appreciate that. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”
“Becky. Becky Prejean.” She gave me a wink and then scuttled off in a flash of spandex and artificial breasts.
I took my shower and dressed, thankfully unaccosted, but my mind kept turning over the tidbits of information. Elena and Harris, huh? Well, she did say she was attracted to powerful men. Yet another interesting twist.
But was it true? I headed out to my car and cranked the AC up, then called the dispatcher and asked for a local address for a Becky or Rebecca Prejean, white female, approximately mid-thirties.
A few minutes later I thanked the dispatcher and hung up. Becky Prejean lived in Ruby Estates. Davis Sharp’s maid had said that a blonde came to see him after Elena left.
Coincidence? Probably. But Becky Prejean had raised my suspicions about a number of things, and I had a feeling I’d be driving to Mandeville again before all this was over.
THE REST OF my afternoon was an ambitious—and hideously necessary—combination of doing laundry, cleaning my kitchen, and scrubbing my bathroom. Usually, housework had a relaxing effect on me, but a simmering guilt plagued me throughout the day—railing at me that I wasn’t making any progress on finding what was consuming essence, and reminding me that time was running out for Tessa. I’d hoped for a relaxing Sunday and a desperately needed recharge of my mental resources, but the various worries continued to pick at me.
Four times I picked up my phone to call Ryan—twice even going so far as to start dialing his number before I stabbed at the disconnect button in frustration. I had no idea what the hell I would say. Wanna hang out? Wanna see a movie? I’m stressed out and need someone to vent to?
Right. Like Ryan needed any more proof that I was completely neurotic.
I gave up and fired up my computer. Bury myself in work … As long as I had some free time, I could check one other thing that I’d almost forgotten about—Judge Laurent had mentioned campaign contributions, with a strong implication that there was something significant to be seen there.
Campaign contributions were public record and, thanks to the marvels of modern technology, were also available online. It took me a few tries to find the right website, but once I did I was rewarded with more information than I knew what to do with on every election and every candidate.
Narrowing my search to only the contributions made by Davis Sharp was far more enlightening. Stunning, in fact. Davis Sharp had contributed significantly to Judge Roth’s campaign fund—giving the maximum allowed by law, going at least ten years back. I quickly scanned through the rest of Sharp’s contributions. He’d supported various other candidates in other elections but none as much as Harris Roth.
I shifted my search parameters to look at all of Roth’s contributors. That list was impressively long, but Sharp’s name clearly stood out as Roth’s biggest contributor.
I bookmarked the page and shut my computer down. I had an extensive financial connection between Davis Sharp and Judge Roth now. But what did it mean? Judge Laurent had implied that Sharp wanted favors in return for contributions, so I could only assume that he’d expected—and received—the same from Roth. Especially considering how much money he’d given to his campaign fund.
I was out of ideas, and it was with a nearly visceral rel
ief that I watched the sun slip below the trees. Now I could at least assuage the part of the guilt that nagged at me about Tessa, even if the rest of my psyche remained in hopeless shambles.
I showered and changed, then headed down to my basement. This was the last stage of the call to her essence—the “arcane transponder” that would hopefully draw her back to this plane and to her body. I knew that a great deal depended on to what extent her essence had been drained during the summoning, and I knew that at some point I would have to accept the possibility that I might never get her back.
But now isn’t the time to think like that, I told myself sternly. Now was the time for confidence in the ritual, total faith that it would be simply a matter of time before Tessa was back to normal. And then get her to explain about the damn portal. And get her to give me some damn guidance.
I sketched the final portion, cautiously crabbing around the complex diagram. I winced as I stood up, and it wasn’t all from the creak of my knees from crouching for so long. Was I depending too much on my aunt? But where else was I going to get the training I still needed?
Rhyzkahl, my thoughts whispered to me, sending an odd ripple of gooseflesh across my skin. I shuddered, rubbing my arms at the thought of being tied to him any more than I already was. I didn’t—couldn’t trust him. He was ancient and powerful and well skilled at lying without ever saying an untrue word.
Worry about that shit later, I railed at my psyche. Focus!
I took a deep breath and began to channel potency. After what was probably half an hour, I finally released the power, feeling it slide away into the diagram. I watched the diagram, nearly weeping in relief as it began to resonate. A heartbeat later, the resonance abruptly shifted into a hum—inaudible and powerful at the same time. I held my breath as the hum settled into a soft pulse, a sensation tickling over me that reminded me of everything that was Tessa.