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

  Pre-ambush jitters had my heart pumping. I should be an old hand at this. I’d been eviscerated, sliced, and stabbed during previous engagements, but the common factor in every incident was a demonic lord. No demonic lords today, so my chances of losing large quantities of blood were slim, right?

  Pellini drove a few hundred yards past the entrance to the nature center and turned onto a narrow dirt road through the woods. We bounced over ruts for close to a quarter mile before he pulled over and climbed out of the truck. He gestured to a break in the underbrush. “That game trail leads to the picnic area.”

  The instant my feet touched the ground, I flinched. The arcane broadcast of the valve jarred through me—a wrongness like the kathunk-kathunk of a washing machine out of balance. Idris muttered a curse and took off down the trail.

  “The valve’s unstable,” I said over my shoulder to Pellini as I started after Idris. “That’s far more urgent. Ambush has to take a back seat until we can fix it.”

  Cypress trees draped with Spanish moss crowded close, and overhanging branches of willows and white oaks choked the trail. Bullfrogs croaked off to the right, and cicadas rasped their harsh songs all around. Nearly two hundred yards in, Eilahn seized my arm and dragged me to a stop. “Others are at the valve.”

  Demon senses for the win. I hissed a warning to Idris then turned and motioned for Pellini to stop. “Someone’s already at the valve,” I whispered.

  “Bad guys?” Pellini asked, breathing hard from the run.

  “Well, it probably ain’t Girl Scouts.”

  He let out a mock sigh of relief. “Good thing. Those little bitches are tough.”

  I stifled a laugh and continued onward with caution. The valve instability rattled through me like a car shaking itself apart at high speed, and increased with every step we took. After another fifty feet, the trail opened up into a picnic area with a few weather-beaten tables and concrete barbecue pits. On the far side of the clearing, red-orange potency sprayed from the valve like water from a loose fire hose. Katashi and Tsuneo flanked the valve, both scrambling to stabilize it before it blew. Katashi worked the containment with fluid, sweeping movements. On the opposite side of the valve, Tsuneo sweated and worked the flows in more conventional ways, his too-pretty face contorted from extreme effort.

  Idris’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl. “Do you have your gun?” he asked, gaze riveted on the two enemy summoners.

  “Of course,” Pellini and I answered at the same time.

  “Wound them,” he ordered. “We’ll have them, and we can finish with the valve on our own.”

  “I suppose you’d like me to shoot them in the legs?” Pellini replied with derision while I winced at the ignorance of Idris’s demand. “And be such a good shot that I miss the femur, pelvis, femoral artery, and anything else life-threatening?”

  Idris sneered at Pellini. “I wasn’t expecting you to do anything. I was talking to Kara.” He pointedly shifted his attention to me in clear dismissal of Pellini. “Anything you can do to take them out from here?”

  Pellini’s hands clenched into fists. Right now I wouldn’t blame him one bit if he popped Idris. Hell, I was tempted to do so on Pellini’s behalf.

  “No,” I said flatly, “for all the reasons Pellini gave.” Katashi and Tsuneo weren’t aware of us yet, but only because they were engrossed in their efforts to prevent disaster. “There’s no way they’ll get that valve under control in time on their own, and we sure as shit can’t either.” Trusting Pellini to watch my back, I strode out of our concealment, ignoring Idris’s choked growl. “You need our help,” I called out, tone as firm and confident as I could make it.

  Tsuneo’s head snapped up in surprise, but Katashi merely shifted to the far side of the valve.

  “Agreed,” he said. I closed the distance at a jog, assessing. To my surprise and relief Idris moved into position beside me. I had no doubt he crushed the urge to throttle Katashi then and there only because we’d all be dead if the valve blew. Priorities.

  Idris gathered potency as it spewed from the damaged valve, shaped and passed it to Katashi and Tsuneo, obviously very familiar with working with the two. I copied his technique then paused, fixated on the valve. Between one heartbeat and the next the entire structure leaped into focus like one of those Magic Eye pictures that became three-dimensional if you knew how to view it. I sank my consciousness through the surface chaos and down to the valve foundation. Subtle asymmetry and imperfections became apparent exactly as they had in Kadir’s simulator on the nexus and at the valve by my pond. I understood how the technique would augment the integrity of the valve and halt the cascade to disaster. Sure, Kadir was a complete nut job, but he was also fucking brilliant. Katashi’s method was a Band-Aid where Kadir’s was a cure.

  With an unexpected rush of jubilation, I ignored the wild eruptions from the valve, concentrated on the foundation and shaped potency as I never had before. Imperfections stood out as clearly as ink blots on paper, and I filled, smoothed, and balanced as though second nature.

  Katashi murmured to Tsuneo in Japanese, then passed strands—and the lead—to me. I accepted potency from all three summoners and continued to sculpt and place it as needed.

  “Kadir’s influence,” Katashi said after several minutes with an unmistakable undertone of annoyance.

  Tense and composed, I continued to symmetrize while the others contained, collected and recycled the outflow from the valve. “Yeah, Kadir and I are tight, y’know,” I snarked.

  “No,” Katashi said. “That is untrue of any.”

  Memory rose of Paul kneeling at Kadir’s side. Though Katashi had interpreted my sarcastic comment literally, he was still wrong. I didn’t understand the relationship between Paul and the demonic lord, but I knew in my gut they were, in fact, tight.

  At long last the valve emitted harmonious tones, and the raging red-orange emanations settled into a gentle blue-green flow. Absurdly pleased, I worked the final strands to complete the process. Tsuneo released his hold on the flows, and Katashi strode to the far side of the picnic area.

  An arcane shockwave jolted through me as dozens of floating sigils ignited around Katashi. In the next instant a familiar prickle swept over my skin like a million running ants. A ritual, and I’m the target!

  I lurched up in an attempt to escape the epicenter. “Idris! Pellini! Run!” I choked out as an unseen weight crashed into me, plastering me to the ground as if I weighed a billion tons.

  Sick horror clawed at me as I struggled in vain to free myself. This was like the arcane-draining ritual Idris used on Pellini—only Katashi’s had to have been prepped and readied long before we arrived. A trap. And we walked right into it—cocky and certain that we had the jump on them.

  Idris was beyond my line of sight, and I had no idea if he’d managed to get away. I saw Pellini bring his gun to bear on Katashi. At that point I had zero problem with Katashi getting shot in the leg, and so fucking what if it shattered his femur and he bled out.

  I fought to reach my own gun, but the crushing pressure held me almost immobile. The simple act of moving my hand felt as if I hauled a loaded pickup truck. One millimeter, two. Pellini got a shot off, and bark flew from a tree not far from Katashi, but the old summoner stood unfazed at the center of his ritual. Behind Katashi a black man I recognized from Farouche’s plantation stepped out of the brush. Leo Carter. He fired at Pellini, but Eilahn tackled the detective to the ground with milliseconds to spare then leaped to her feet and bounded my way. Carter shifted his aim to her while I watched in rising dread.

  “Do not kill the syraza!” Katashi ordered. Because of Rhyzkahl, I thought with relief. The syraza and the demonic lord remained connected, and if she died it would debilitate him even more.

  Yet with Katashi’s ritual in effect, she still wasn’t safe. As she started toward me, I croaked out a warning for her to stay back, but her stubborn loyalty drove her onward despite the danger. Ten feet away, she dropped to her kn
ees as the ritual sucked away her already scant arcane resources like a swarm of leeches. She went prone and extended her hand toward me, wriggled across the ground as determination glowed in her eyes. With every inch she paled more and her movements grew weaker. I struggled to scream at her to stop, to get out of the vicious ritual, but the words wouldn’t form. Go back, I shrieked at her in my head. I’d never known her to read my thoughts, but it was all I had. Stop hurting yourself!

  Pellini started to rise, and Carter fired in his direction with an insultingly casual air. Pellini dropped flat again, rolled to his side and squeezed off two quick shots. The air shimmered golden in front of Katashi, and none of the men so much as flinched.

  “Fucking hell,” Pellini shouted. “They have some kind of goddamn forcefield shit!”

  A smile spread across Carter’s face as he put a bullet into the tree behind Pellini, keeping him pinned down. A broad-shouldered man with red and grey hair stepped out from the brush behind Katashi and moved toward me. Angus McDunn.

  I saw a flicker of sigils around him before Katashi’s ritual drained the last bit of my arcane sense. Pushing against the unseen power, I forced my hand a few millimeters closer to my gun and touched the holster, muscles trembling. I managed to get my hand to the butt of my gun and wrap my fingers around it, then had nothing left to pull the gun free of the holster.

  McDunn appeared unaffected by the overwhelming weight of the ritual as he approached. Frustration and anger coursed through me. The sigils protected him like arcane armor. Yet more evidence that Katashi had planned this in advance.

  McDunn crouched at my side, unconcerned by my hand on my gun. He reached for my shoulder then hesitated, his mouth drawn down by indecision. My breath hissed through my teeth as I continued the futile attempt to draw my weapon. I knew it was hopeless since I’d be unable to bring the gun to bear and fire it, but no way was I going to lie there and take whatever it was these assholes intended to do to me.

  Angus enhances talents. That’s what Idris said. But it made no sense that he’d want to beef up my abilities.

  McDunn regarded me with keen hazel eyes set in a craggy face but remained motionless, hand inches from my shoulder. His inaction freaked me out more than if he’d attacked me. What the hell would a cold-blooded killer be reluctant to do?

  “McDunn!” Katashi spoke his name like a slap. “Do it now!”

  “No,” I tried to gasp, and when McDunn’s eyes swung to mine I knew he’d heard me.

  He closed his hand into a fist and withdrew it. A pale flicker of hope ignited within me. Was he having second thoughts? He shifted his weight to stand, but Katashi’s voice cracked out again.

  “Jesral.”

  McDunn flinched and drew a sharp breath. Regret lingered in his eyes, but his expression tightened with a determination that gutted my hope. Whatever threat the demonic lord Jesral held, McDunn was no match for it.

  He gripped my shoulder, firm and heavy, and a wave of dizziness swept over me. Eilahn let out a shriek of rage even as a second, harsher wave crashed through me like the stab of a live wire. Blood roared in my ears, muffling all other sound. Yet another electroshock wave struck. And another. Color faded to shades of grey. In desperation I locked my eyes on McDunn’s face and sought to anchor myself against his assault.

  His hand tightened on my shoulder. Wave after wave pounded me, deadening my senses as if wrapped in smothering layers of wet cotton.

  “St-stop . . . please.” I forced the words out.

  A droplet of sweat rolled down the side of his face. “I can’t,” he said, voice strained. He squeezed my shoulder again, plunged me deeper. A strangled cry escaped me as another vicious breaker scoured me, pulverized an essential aspect of my self to sand and washed it away. I scrabbled for it only to have it slip through my grasp.

  “It’s all I could do.” McDunn’s low, rough words cut through the surreal fog. He released my shoulder, stood and backed away several steps, then flinched at an abrupt flurry of gunshots. Pellini had given up on shooting directly at Katashi and company and instead emptied his mag into the branches high above them.

  One large branch made an ominous crack as debris rained down, which was all the distraction Pellini needed. While the bad guys dodged pinecones and the falling branch, Pellini started toward me in an impressive low crawl that I’d have been hard pressed to match even at my best. McDunn reached for the gun at his hip, and for an instant my heart stopped, certain Pellini was going to get a bullet in his head. Yet instead McDunn inexplicably dropped his hand and jogged back to the others. Maybe because Pellini was his son’s partner? More likely he didn’t want the hassle of cleaning up after a murder.

  Jaw set, Pellini waved his hands as he approached as if shoving trash out of his way. The crushing weight began to lift. Pushing potency away and dispelling the shit affecting me, I realized. I couldn’t see the flows, but that had to be because the ritual had temporarily pulled the arcane away.

  Katashi let out a harsh curse in Japanese and made a sharp gesture toward the woods. Carter, Tsuneo, and McDunn followed him to beat a hasty retreat into the trees. Pellini shifted up to his knees and continued the pushing motions. I drew a gasping breath as the vicious pressure eased more, then groaned as nausea rose in its place.

  Idris let out a cry of rage and scrambled into view on hands and knees. He staggered up and toward where the men had disappeared into the brush only to collapse halfway there and heave his guts out. I held back my own puke, aware that Pellini’s efforts had probably saved Idris from being taken prisoner again—a very real threat considering how gifted he was. Katashi and the Mraztur would pee themselves in excitement to have Idris working on the valves for them again.

  Eilahn pressed up to sit. Face pale and eyes closed, she remained quiescent as Pellini stood and moved around us, continuing to wave his hands as if dispersing smoke. Most of the oppressive ritual weight faded within half a minute, but everything still felt wrong, and I couldn’t stop shivering. I managed to push up to kneel then retched into the pine needles and dirt.

  “Ah, shit.” Pellini grimaced and made more pushing motions around me. The dizziness receded, but confusion replaced it. The ritual had been dispelled, so why couldn’t I see the potency flows yet? I’d recovered immediately from Idris’s arcane draining ritual at the barbecue.

  I spat into the dirt to try and clear my mouth, wiped my face with a trembling hand. “S-something’s wrong.”

  Pellini stepped around my puke splatter then pulled me to my feet. My legs refused to hold my weight, but Pellini slung me over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry and hauled me the hell away from the ritual residuals. As soon as he reached the woods he lowered me to sit on the ground then peered down the trail to check on the others.

  I did my best to remain upright as shivers wracked my body. Nausea lurked at the back of my throat, and the wrongness took on a defined shape. “The . . . valve. I can’t . . . I can’t feel the valve.”

  Pellini frowned. “It’s there. Steady and blue.”

  I closed and opened my hands in a useless attempt to get them to stop shaking. “C-can’t feel it. Can’t see it.” I heard the distress in my voice. “I don’t feel right.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “You don’t look right.”

  Heart pounding, I struggled to my feet. “You . . . you don’t either.” I swayed.

  Pellini wrapped an arm around my waist to steady me. I swung my gaze around in mounting desperation. “Everything’s wrong,” I told him, voice quavering. The trail and surrounding forest remained the picture of serenity, birds twittering as though nothing was amiss.

  But it was like looking at a picture with one color missing.

  True fear filled my gut. “Pellini, make a sigil.”

  “A what? Oh, one of those drifty things?” He carefully lowered me back down to sit then frowned in concentration, lifted his hands and moved them around. “How’s that?”

  The empty air between his hands mocked me.
“I can’t see it.” I hugged my arms around myself. “Do another. Please.”

  Frown deepening, he flicked his fingers then held his hands a foot apart and waggled them again.

  I knew better than to ask if he was screwing with me. Out of habit I tried to pygah. The loops of the calming sigil were so familiar as to be second nature, yet though I remembered what it looked like, I didn’t know how to trace the pattern. It was like forgetting how to hold a pencil.

  No, it was like forgetting what to use to draw a picture.

  An eerie and fragile calm settled over me. I didn’t want to speak or move because then it would shatter and the bad thing would be real. But the bad thing was real, and refusing to face it wouldn’t change a thing.

  “He took it,” I said. The calm fractured into a billion pieces.

  “Huh?”

  “McDunn.” I swallowed, concentrated on the mechanics of my simplest bodily functions. “He took the arcane from me. I can’t sense it anymore. Nothing.”

  “Shit,” Pellini murmured then shook his head. “It’ll come back. That ritual thing you were in pulled all the arcane away, that’s all.”

  “No!” Deep in my gut I knew he was wrong. “The effect of the ritual was temporary, like at the barbeque when Idris did it to you. Katashi isolated me from the arcane so McDunn could fuck me up.” Crippling me was the intent from the start. In one well-planned stroke, Katashi had removed me from the game board.

  “Right now we need to get the hell out of here.” Pellini hauled me upright again, draped my arm over his shoulder to steady me as we made our way down the trail. “You’re going to be okay. We’ll figure this out. Eilahn and Idris are right behind us, and we’ll get back to your house and fix it.”

  “I’m gonna throw up.”

  Pellini reacted like a man who had way too much experience with people about to blow chunks. In a split second he unslung my arm from his shoulders and lowered me to my knees. He scooped my hair back with one hand and steadied me with the other, all while keeping himself out of the line of fire. “Right into the grass there.”