I felt a change of pressure in the air behind me. I spun, expecting another attack, but to my shock it was a syraza, swaying and breathing heavily.
I stared for barely a split second before throwing myself at her and wrapping her in an embrace. I’d only seen her in syraza form for a couple of minutes after I’d summoned her back on Earth, but I knew without a doubt who this was.
“Eilahn,” I said, nearly crying in relief at the sight of her. “Holy shit, you’re okay. I missed you. Oh, man.” Okay, maybe I was really crying.
She chimed in worried tones and wrapped arms around me. “What have you done? What have they done?”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” I said, gulping back tears of relief and joy. “I didn’t grovel when I was supposed to, I guess, and one of those dickwad lords tried to smack me down.” I held her close, so insanely glad to have her here. “Rhyzkahl stopped him, but I wasn’t going down without a fight.” I gave a weak laugh.
She pulled back enough to run hands over me and search my face, as if making absolutely certain I was untouched. “Here is more complicated than Earth because you do not know all the rules,” she told me, but her eyes were dark with worry.
I grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” I pushed back the wave of homesickness and hugged her again. “I’m so damn glad to see you.” A tremble went through her, and I looked up at her, worried. “Are you all right?” Now I could see that she seemed almost transparent, without the lovely shimmering vibrancy the other syrazas had. “Do you need to sit?”
She folded not very gracefully to a semi cross-legged position, one knee pulled up against her chest. “Better thus, Kara. I left stasis when I felt your distress, but I will be all right for a while. You sit and tell me what happened.” Her eyes stayed upon me, assessing.
I sat down beside her, and she curled a wing around me. I gave her a rundown of what happened, trying hard not to leave out any detail in case she could point out something I’d done to set the asshole lord off.
“Amkir most assuredly goaded you,” Eilahn said once I’d finished. “Yet I cannot fathom why.” She tilted her head and gave me a look that told me she knew just how I could be when pushed. She trilled and chimed softly. “To assure that you were not harmed, Lord Rhyzkahl laid hands upon Amkir.” She made a sharp little sound. “Intervention by arcane means would have been a much cleaner way. Not as many complications. It would have certainly stopped Amkir, though it may not have done so before he loosed upon you.” She shook her head, then let out a soft, trilling laugh. “You do get yourself into trouble when I am not with you, do you not?”
I smiled weakly. “It’s my nature.” Then I gave a soft sigh. “I’m so glad you’re all right.” My brow furrowed. “You are all right, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Kara. Very much so, though I will need to return to stasis soon. Do not worry.” She gave me a squeeze with arms and wing.
She felt like barely a wisp in my arms as I hugged her back. Releasing a shuddering breath I stood, worried about her despite her admonition. “I’m okay. I promise,” I assured her. “You go back. I’m all right here, and Rhyzkahl’s sending me back home tomorrow.”
She reached and took hold of my hand, worry in her face seeming to deepen. “If you return to Earth, stay within wards until I can return. I must abide in stasis for a time yet. At least a month of your time most likely. You must try to summon me every day until I come to you. No place is truly safe, but there you are terribly exposed.” Her hand tightened on mine. “Give me your oath that you will do this—remain behind wards until you summon me.”
Nodding, I squeezed her hand. “Eilahn, I give you my oath that I will hunker down in my house and be a regular hermit until you can come back and be my kickass demon bodyguard again.”
A small measure of the worry in her expression abated, yet she didn’t smile. “Oh, Kara, I must go. Please take care, and look deep into your essence to know who to trust.”
And then she was gone. I stood motionless for a moment, while I turned her words over in my head. Who to trust? Frowning, I left the antechamber and headed away from the great hall. Right now, I only trusted the people who didn’t want to hurt me. That seemed simple enough.
Alone, I made my way back to the library with the intent of finding something with which to pass the rest of the day and also, hopefully, to avoid contact with any other damn lords. My thigh still stung from Amkir’s lash, and I had no doubt that his slap had left a bruise on my cheek. Assholes, all of them. Even Rhyzkahl for not putting a stop to it sooner.
The library held tomes, scrolls, and normal-sized books too, as well as a variety of unknown gadgets and even a section of Earth clocks, most really really old. Paintings hung in alcoves and on the walls, some reminding me of styles I’d seen on Earth. Many, I was sure, were Szerain’s work. There were even framed photographs of Earth subjects—the Eiffel Tower, an aerial of the Giza plateau, details of the Great Wall of China, and so much more. But more intriguing were photographs of places, creatures, and demons of the demon realm. That started a whole cascade of speculation on the acquisition of it all. With the mix of books, art, and artifacts, I decided this was a combination library and museum.
I didn’t understand how the library was organized, but after a bit of wandering I managed to locate a large section of books that were written in something other than the demon language. Wards flickered along the shelves, and I quickly realized that they were there to protect the books from the various ravages of time. This place was a rare book dealer’s wet dream. There were books in damn near every Earth language, including some I wasn’t sure even existed anymore, and some ancient, handwritten volumes that I had no doubt predated the invention of the printing press. Many of the English language books were in an old English that proved difficult to read, but I eventually located a section of more modern English, including fiction titles of everything from Harry Potter to John Steinbeck to paperback romances. I grinned at the thought of a zhurn curled up reading a book with Fabio on the cover.
I spied a copy of The Hobbit and pulled it off the shelf. Ryan loved this sort of stuff, so maybe it was worth a try. There was a comfy-looking chaise near the end of the stacks, and I headed that way. But an alcove caught my eye before I reached the chaise, and I paused. Like the other alcoves, it held a picture of some sort, though this one was covered, draped in dark red silk.
Curious, I pulled the silk aside and off, revealing the sweet face of Elinor on the painting beneath. The painting exuded life, marking it most likely as a work of Szerain. Elinor stood on steps, her hand resting on a luminescent column, and blue sky behind her framed by more columns. The ruins before they were ruins, I realized. She wore a simple, pretty dress of rich green that seemed to shimmer though it was only paint. Her eyes reflected life and innocence and wonder, and her mouth curved in a smile that seemed to touch me centuries later.
“It should remain covered,” Rhyzkahl said from behind me.
I startled, then turned with a mild scowl. “She was a pretty girl. Why do you hide her away like this?”
Face tight, he passed by me and picked up the red silk. “Because I prefer it that way,” he said, reaching high and re-covering the painting.
I folded my arms over my chest. “Why? Because you want to forget all about her?”
He remained with his back to me, hands gripping the sides of the frame. “I cannot forget her,” he said, voice low and dark. “And I require no reminder.”
I stayed silent for a moment, feeling the pain in his voice. “How did she die?” I finally asked. “I’ve been told it was because of the gate, but…” Flickers of memory stirred in confusing patterns. “But there was more. I know it.”
Rhyzkahl gripped the frame hard enough to dislodge the cover again. Elinor smiled out as the silk puddled to the floor like a pool of blood. “There was a disruption in the ritual and it spiraled out of control.” He seemed to force the words out between his teeth. “She could not sto
p it. Szerain could not stop it, and she died.”
“And you have no idea what that disruption was?” I persisted. “Was it something she did? Or was it Szerain?” I knew I poked at a tender spot, yet my lingering anger about the incident in the main foyer urged me on. “Did you train her? Was she prepared to do this gate? Mzatal said she wasn’t much of a summoner, so why was she doing something like this in the first place?”
Rhyzkahl let out a shuddering breath. “Mzatal released her from training.” He lifted the cover back over the portrait, then turned to face me. “Szerain and I trained her. She was well enough prepared for her part in the ritual.” He paused, anger flashing briefly over his face. “Szerain failed in his support.”
My eyes narrowed. “What was her part in the ritual?”
“Simply to open the gateway,” he said. “Nothing more. Szerain had all other aspects.” His right hand clenched into a fist and a muscle leaped in his jaw. “He proceeded without my leave.”
I snorted. “Seems a lot of lords do things without your leave.” My cheek still ached with the evidence of that.
“Amkir,” he murmured, as if only now remembering that I’d been struck. He came closer and laid a hand on my cheek. “They do not do so without reprisal.”
“Oh, please,” I said, scowling. “What, you’ll give him a slap on the wrist? He was a complete dick to me, for no reason! He’d have seriously hurt me if you hadn’t grabbed his damn arm in time. Then what? ‘Oh, Amkir, you naughty boy. You broke my toy!’”
But Rhyzkahl shook his head. “It is not a ‘slap on the wrist,’ as you phrase it. He suffers my retribution even now.”
“And what would that be?” I asked, dubious.
“It involves power flows and is not a matter for humans…even you, dear one. He suffers.” Anger stirred behind his eyes, and I found myself believing that Rhyzkahl truly had smacked Lord Asshole down.
Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair. “Why did he do that to me?” I asked, still utterly baffled. “I mean…it was like he hated me from first sight. Did I do something?”
Rhyzkahl dropped his hand from my cheek then crouched and ran it over my thigh, easing the sting from the lashes. “Amkir needs no reason,” he said, straightening again. “He can most assuredly be harsh with humans.”
“Then why did you leave me alone with him?” I asked, annoyed again. “He was hostile from the start, even while you were still there.”
“He has been long from humans and overstepped bounds he would never have touched in the past. I misjudged his response.” Regret colored his voice. “He will not err thus again, nor will I.”
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “I need to know I’m safe here,” I said. “That’s the whole damn reason I came here when I got away from Mzatal.”
He caught my face between his hands. “You have nothing to fear now from these visiting lords,” he said. “I have seen to it.”
“All right,” I sighed, then put my arms around him. “I’m trusting you on this.”
He tipped my head up and kissed me, a slow and tender show of reassurance that quickly deepened. Whatever the hell kind of relationship Rhyzkahl and I had, even if everything else was weird as shit, this part was pretty damn decent.
He slid his hands beneath my shirt to stroke my back, then broke the kiss to nuzzle my neck. “I once told you I wished to fuck you in every room of my palace,” he said, lips moving against my skin. “This one is as yet un-christened.”
I laughed low in my throat, already fired by his words. “So you did.” I gave a mock sigh. “But I don’t know if sex in a library can be all that exciting.”
He pulled my shirt down over one shoulder, lowered his head and bit gently. “Then you do not know much and require tutelage.”
I dropped my head back. “And I suppose you think you can teach me?” I breathed.
His hand slid up to fondle my breast. He bit again, harder this time, then moved to catch my earlobe in his teeth. “Most definitely,” he whispered.
And he did.
Chapter 16
In addition to the library, we ended up christening two more rooms—the tree house of the arboretum and a storage room full of furniture—finally ending up back in my rooms where I eventually fell asleep curled up in his arms, exhausted and sated.
I didn’t expect Rhyzkahl to still be there in the morning, and, of course, he wasn’t. At first I thought I’d slept a lot later than I’d intended because of the amount of light in the room. It wasn’t until I got up and actually looked out the window that I realized why it was so bright.
I let out a squeal. “It snowed!” Not only had it snowed, it still snowed, flakes drifting down, adding to the thick layer already on the ground and coating rocks and trees and buildings alike. All but the grove, which shimmered green and purple, untouched by the white blanket.
I tore through the available clothing and found a variety of Earth-type cold-weather garb. Boots, hat, gloves, and scarf went over a ridiculous number of layers. I looked like a total dork, but I didn’t care.
I hurried down the stairs and to the broad doors that led to the large back lawn. Kehlirik was crouched inside the doors with a book in his hand, and I smiled in relief at seeing him again. My smile spread to a grin when I saw that he was reading A Game of Thrones. Oh, I was so getting him hooked on television as soon as I got back home.
“It snowed!” I announced, then dashed outside with an unabashed whoop of delight.
Kehlirik set the book down and followed me out as I tromped through what was easily eight inches of snow. He peered at me curiously as I launched into my first-ever attempt to make a snowman.
“Yes, it has snowed,” he said. “This brings strong reaction in you?”
“We don’t get snow where I live,” I told him as I made a sloppy attempt to roll snow into a large ball for the base of my snowman. “I mean, not more than a scuzzy inch or two.”
The demon snorted, watching me with open curiosity. “There are other demons who will clear the snow for you.”
“I don’t want them to clear it for me,” I said, slightly breathless. “I want to make snowmen and snow angels and all the stuff I’ve heard you can do in snow.” I want to have fun, I added silently as I rolled up a second, smaller ball and placed it atop the first. I want to forget I’m trapped here and forget how much I miss Jill and Ryan and Tessa and Zack.
Kehlirik made a huffing sound and poked a claw at my partial snowman. I gave him a sidelong glance as I rolled up the third ball and stuck it on top of the others. “Y’all have fun and play sometimes, right?” I knew the demons seemed to have any number of games, but I had no idea how spontaneous they were, if at all.
“Yes, we play games.”
I scanned the area for sticks or rocks or anything to decorate the snowman, but whoever had the job of cleaning up the lawn was apparently pretty damn meticulous. Giving up on the snow sculpture for now, I crouched and packed together a snowball.
“Do y’all ever do snowball fights?” I asked, eyeing him with a sly grin.
He spread his wings and dropped into a menacing crouch, low growl throbbing in his throat. I laughed and let fly with the snowball at him, but he ducked it with ease. In the next instant he took flight, letting out a trumpeting bellow.
“Hey, no fair!” I shouted, laughing as I hurriedly made more snowballs and threw them at the airborne reyza.
I yelped as a snowball smacked me in the back of the head. I whirled to see a faas ducking behind a pillar.
Apparently Kehlirik’s bellow had been a “game on!” signal to the rest of the demons. What followed next was the most insanely chaotic and glorious snowball fight in existence. Within less than a minute, the area filled with dozens of demons of damn near every variety. Chinese-dragon-faced kehza took to the air with reyza and zhurn in dogfights to rival anything out of World War I. On the ground, a cluster of luhrek—demons resembling a cross between a dog and a goat, with the hindquarters of a lion—whippe
d together a fort constructed of snow and arcane scaffolding, and proceeded to lob volleys at the airborne contingent. Graa darted with lightning speed between air and ground, weaving shields of potency that formed a sting-delivering obstacle course for all players, while young savik methodically dismantled and reformed said shields and slung snowballs at the faas who darted from pillar to pillar.
For my part, I quickly abandoned any attempt at strategy or skill and simply chucked snowballs at any available target.
Another snowball smacked into my head. I spun, expecting to see the devious faas, but to my shock it was a human who ducked behind a pillar.
I stared at the dark-haired man. Tall, a bit stocky, face maddeningly familiar. And then it registered. “Holy shit. Michael?” Michael Moran was the younger brother of Lida Moran, a goth-metal singer who’d ruthlessly used Michael’s abilities to create golems—actual creatures of dirt and clay—to get rid of her business rivals. Michael had suffered a head injury when he was young, which had made it far easier for Lida and her boyfriend to cruelly manipulate and use him. After the case had finally been closed—after the deaths of Lida and her boyfriend—Eilahn had suggested I send Michael to the demon realm. I’d agreed. I knew that if Michael stayed on Earth, he’d end up in an institution or even possibly jail for the rest of his life. I figured, if Eilahn said he’d have a chance at a better life, I had to go along with it. I trusted her.
He peered out from behind the pillar, smiling shyly. “Hi, Kara.”
I let out a laugh and tromped through the snow to him. “How are you? You look great!” He did, too. His face looked slimmer and far less slack, and his eyes practically sparkled with life.
“You’re through playing?” he asked, stepping warily out from behind the pillar in case I was still packing. “The faas are great with snowballs,” he added, with another wary look around for any lurking demons. My delight in seeing him grew. It was blindingly obvious that he was more stable and coherent than before.