A slow grin spread across his face. “Ho-ly shit. Zack and ...” He began to laugh.
“Oh, god, Zack and Jill.” I joined his laughter. But, does Jill know that Zack is ... isn’t human?
After a moment he managed to control himself. “That’s seriously funny.” Then he gave me a more concerned look. “If you were having a tough time, why didn’t you give me a call?”
“Well, um, for a second I actually thought that it was you at Jill’s house.” I tried to shrug and laugh it off. “I mean, it was only for a second, but y’know ... And, besides, I kinda needed some girl talk.” Wow, that sounded lame.
The look of shock on his face surprised me. “You thought that I would ... with Jill?” Pain and disappointment flashed across his features, then he looked away and gave a laugh that sounded oddly forced. “Jill’s not my type.”
“What is your type, Ryan?” I said it before I could stop myself.
His gaze snapped back to me, spearing me. I wanted to take back the question, but I couldn’t think of any way to do so that wouldn’t have me sounding like a complete moron. Did I want to know the answer? Only if it describes me, I thought in stupid adolescent hope.
We were saved by the sound of tires screeching on asphalt. We both spun to see a Crown Vic—a black one—bounce over the curb and screech to a stop. Zack practically leaped out of the car and approached us with a wide smile. I noted with amusement that he had stubble on his chin.
“Dude,” I said, shaking my head. “I know Jill’s house is small, but I’m sure she could spare some space in her bathroom for you to leave a razor.”
He stared at me in openmouthed shock for a heartbeat. “Are you a—” He stopped and then shifted his expression to a rueful grin. “Busted. Yeah, we’ve been seeing each other.”
“Did you go up a hill?” I asked innocently.
He looked at me with a blank expression.
“To fetch a pail of water?” Ryan finished, grinning.
Zack groaned. “You two are a couple of assholes.”
“It’s why you love us,” Ryan said, voice dry. “C’mon, let’s get food. Kara has a bunch of shit to fill us in on.”
We found a booth that was well away from any other customers. As soon as the waitress had taken our orders I filled them both in on the findings from the computer examinations, what I’d gleaned from Roger’s murder scene, and the interview with Lida.
Zack frowned and pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “So, with Roger’s murder, we still have the possibility that Vic really was killed by mistake.”
I grimaced. “No, I’m having a hard time buying that. Vic Kerry is still linked to both Adam and Roger financially. I just have to pin down how. Besides, if the thing was going after Roger, why go to the City Towers where there was no guarantee that Roger would even be there?” I shrugged. “And for that matter, why go to City Towers if it was after Vic? Seems that there’d be more risk of it being seen.”
Ryan tapped the table absently. “Where did Vic live?”
“Emerald Heights condominiums.” I paused. “Which is gated and has security. Gold star to Ryan!”
He gave me a pleased nod. “Harder to get in, and surveillance video keeps track of cars coming and going.”
Zack exhaled. “Which brings up back to believing that Vic truly was the intended target of that attack.”
“I have all of Roger’s financial information. I sent off subpoenas for Vic’s and Adam’s but it’ll take weeks to get any returns from those. But I do have the info from Vic’s computer and the books we seized at the crime scene.” I tugged a hand through my hair, grimacing. “What I can’t figure out is how the attack on Lida figures into any of this. If the intent had been to kill her, why do it in such a public way?”
We paused while the waitress delivered our food. Ryan looked askance at my entrée. “You’re really having fries for lunch?”
“It’s not just fries,” I said. “It’s cheese and gravy on top of fries. Three of the four food groups!”
He stared at me. “What the hell is your cholesterol level?”
“It’s one!” I said, showing him my middle finger.
Zack grinned. “Don’t get between a woman and her comfort food, Ryan.”
I glared at him as I dug into my healthy repast. Was it that obvious I was in need of comfort food?
“Well, it looks like I’m in for an exciting evening of looking at financial information,” I said after a few minutes of lubricating my arteries. “And I think that the rest of the Financial Crimes Task Force really needs to be helping me out with this!” I gave them both a hopeful grin.
“Sounds dangerous,” Zack said with a mock frown. “I think it would be much safer for us to hunt wild golems. Perhaps somewhere on the other side of the lake.”
“Back off, fanboy,” I said, pointing a gravy-and-cheese-laden fry at him. “I’ve already spoken to the object of your crush—”
“It is not a crush!” he insisted.
“—and Lida is arranging for private security, so your stalking services aren’t needed.”
“You wound me. My intentions are noble.”
Ryan made a rude noise, then turned his attention to me. “So you warned her to watch her back?”
I nodded. “I told Roger to be careful, too, but ... it wasn’t enough.”
His face tightened in a sympathetic grimace.
“And you need to watch your back as well, Kara,” Zack said with a telling look.
Ryan spun to face me. “Why?” he asked, barely shy of demanding.
I glared at Zack, who gave a soft sigh. “I thought you’d told him already,” he said.
“Tell me what?” Ryan said, and this time it was most certainly a demand.
I struggled to control my desire to fidget. “There was another, um, strange thing after we left the search at Adam Taylor’s house.”
His eyes narrowed. “Strange? Like what? And what do you mean another?”
Zack gave me a sharp look. “You didn’t tell me it had happened before.”
The worry on Ryan’s face deepened. “What the fuck happened?”
I grimaced and rubbed my eyes. “Zack ... er, I think it was a summoning.”
Confusion flitted across Ryan’s face. “Another summoner was trying to bring a demon through? Where? But it’s not a full moon. I don’t understand.”
“No. A summoning of me.”
He stared at me for several heartbeats, then the color drained from his face. “Summoning to bring you to the demon realm.”
I shrugged, trying to be casual about it, but it was a pretty pathetic effort. “Well, I can’t be certain of that, but that’s the most logical conclusion.”
He clenched and unclenched his hands. “And this has happened twice, and you didn’t think this was something you needed to tell me.” It wasn’t a question.
I fumbled for a response. “No. I mean, yes. I knew you’d get upset, and it’s not like there’s anything that you could do—” Shit.
I knew I’d fucked up the instant the words were out of my mouth. His lips pressed together and he stood abruptly, jostling the table and nearly spilling the drinks. He was out the back door before I could do more than grab for my Diet Coke.
I stared after him, shocked at the depth of his reaction, and cursing myself at my own callousness. Fucking shit, Kara. Why don’t you just ask him to hand you his balls?
“Go to him,” Zack said quietly. I hesitated, then pushed up from the table and went after him.
The rear parking lot was empty of cars and people, or so I thought at first. I finally saw Ryan down near the corner of the building, head down. One hand was on the wall, the other clenched into a fist by his side. There was a huge part of me that did not want to go near him. I could feel the fury and hurt coming off of him.
But I was the one who’d fucked up. I moved toward him. “Ryan?” I said, more tentatively than I’d intended, but my resolve was wavering pretty badly in the face of h
is anger and distress. I didn’t like that I was the one who’d caused this. If someone else had hurt him like this, I’d have been ready to kill them.
He straightened, pulling his hand from the wall but not turning to face me. “Go back and eat your lunch, Kara. I need a minute.”
“Ryan, I’m sorry. That was a shit thing for me to have said.”
“Yep. It was.”
Well, damn. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? “I’m sorry.”
“Why don’t you trust me, Kara?” He turned now, gaze meeting mine.
“I do,” I tried to insist, but even I could hear the hesitation in my voice.
Frustration swept across his features again. “I don’t know what the hell else I can do, Kara. I’m not holding anything back from you that I know of.”
“That you know of, Ryan?”
He jammed his fingers through his hair. “Fuck! Kara, I know I do and say strange stuff sometimes, but why can’t you at least trust me enough to know that I would never hurt you, and that I give a fuck if you’re in trouble?”
I took an involuntary step back from the vehemence in his tone. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you.”
His hands balled into fists. “But you’ll summon Rhyzkahl—” He spat the name. “—and tell him?”
The words died on my tongue. Yes. He might be able to help me. “I don’t have a choice, Ryan,” I said softly.
I was ready for the rage that passed through his eyes this time and didn’t step back.
“You asked me what my type was. I’ll tell you,” he growled, seizing me by my upper arms. I stiffened in surprise but didn’t try and pull away. His grip was solid and firm, but he wasn’t hurting me. Quite. “My type,” he sneered the word, “is someone who can fucking trust me. Not only trust that I won’t screw other women, but trust me enough to tell me if she needs help, or just needs someone to talk to. My type is someone who doesn’t reek of a demonic lord, who doesn’t turn to him instead of—” He released me abruptly and spun away. I staggered and had to reach to the wall to catch my balance. My breath seized in my chest as I watched him storm off. Half a minute later I saw his Crown Vic roar out of the other parking lot in very un-Ryan-like fashion.
I felt frozen to the spot as his words seemed to clang around in my skull, slicing at me. He was right. That was the worst of it. Every word of it had been true. Now I knew he was interested in me, wanted me as more than “just friends,” and I’d gone and fucked it up before I’d ever given it a chance.
I barely felt the gentle hand on my shoulder. “Kara,” Zack said softly. “He worries. He is frightened for you, and he is lashing out with his pain. You did not deserve that.”
“Yes, I did, Zack.” I turned to look at him in misery. “Yes I did. Everything he said was the truth.”
The gentleness and understanding in his eyes surprised me, until I realized that if he really was a demon he was probably far older than the twenty-something years that Special Agent Zack Garner supposedly had. “Even if he spoke truth,” he said, “he couched it in vile terms and with vicious intent, designed to make you feel pain equivalent to what he feels. You cause him pain, but only with the intent to spare him such. Your bond to Rhyzkahl exists only because you felt there was no other choice save to allow Ryan to be consumed. Ryan knows all of this, but knowledge and logic are easily overshadowed by passion and pain.”
I gazed up at him. “Zack?”
“Yes, Kara?”
“You’re doing that ‘talking like a demon’ thing again.”
He blinked, then gave me a wry smile. “Sorry.” He took a deep breath. “Look, I’ll talk to him.” He shook his head. “He’s going to be beating himself up right now anyway.” He caught my eyes again. “Can you summon Rhyzkahl tonight?”
I hesitated. “I don’t know. I couldn’t store any more potency last night, and it’s still a few days from the full moon.”
He grimaced. “All right. I don’t mean to be a nag about this, but I can’t think of anyone else who could give you the help and protection you need.”
I thought about the amount of power in my storage diagram and sighed. But maybe there was another option . I could try calling him to my dreams. A chill walked down my back at the memory of the last time I tried that, during the search for the Symbol Man. In a desperate move to glean information about one of the murders, I’d made a conscious effort to call the demonic lord to my dreams—a reasonable enough move considering that he’d visited my dreams before. Or so I’d foolishly assumed. But Rhyzkahl had not been pleased to be called forth in such a manner. For several nightmarish minutes he’d manipulated the dream state, teaching me in unforgettable fashion that he was a creature of more power than I could fathom, and that he did not serve me.
But this would be different, I told myself. This wouldn’t be calling him to get him to serve me. Besides, I was fucking bound to him now.
I nodded morosely. “Yeah. I know. I promise, I will as soon as I possibly can.”
Zack gave me a reassuring smile. “Hey, don’t get bummed out. We’ll get through this.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t sound very convincing.
“It’s going to be all right,” he said firmly. “I’m gonna go chase Ryan down. I’ll check in with you later on.”
I mumbled something in the way of acknowledgment and watched him drive off, then returned inside and paid our bill. The most sensible thing for me to do now would be to go on home, hunker down with the financial information, and forget that this lunch ever happened.
But I found myself driving to my aunt’s shop instead. It had been a quaint little natural food store before her coma, and I’d been forced to close it during her time at the neuro center. As soon as she recovered she reopened it, but bigger and better than before. It still had a section for the organics and natural food store stuff, but now there was also a small café and a yoga studio. And her business had never been better.
A subtle floral scent surrounded me as I walked in, paired with soft and soothing music that sounded faintly oriental. Tessa was behind the counter, barefoot, wearing purple leggings paired with a billowing white silk blouse, topped with yards of red beads draped around her neck. She looked up at the sound of the bell over the door and gave me a bright smile that managed to lift my spirits a few millimeters. Sketching a wave to her, I headed over to the cooler and snagged an iced tea, then found an unoccupied table in the corner. A few minutes later she plopped down into the chair across from me.
“You look wrung out, sweets,” she said, eyeing me with worry.
“I feel wrung out,” I admitted. “I’m working a big case that has me pretty baffled.”
“You work too hard,” she said, “but I know it’s important to you.”
I rubbed at my temples, still knotted up from the blowup with Ryan. “Yeah. My personal life is a fucking mess too. Or at least it feels that way.”
She made a tsking noise. “You’re simply unused to having a personal life.”
“Well, this is true,” I said with a tired smile. “Being a social isolate was easier in a lot of ways.”
“I’m serious, Kara. Think about it. Six months ago you were practically a hermit, without a single person you could call friend.”
I fought the urge to scowl. “I wasn’t quite that pathetic.”
She gave me a dubious look. “You didn’t have any friends, and you know it. Now stop being so defensive. I’m more responsible for that than you. But my point is that now you do have friends. And you don’t know how much you can rely on them without scaring them off.”
I wanted to protest, but unfortunately she’d managed to nail down a hefty portion of my current angst. “Yeah,” I said slowly. “I guess so.”
“So, enough psychoanalysis,” she said brightly, as if she’d solved all of my ills in a few sentences. “You’re investigating the murder of Vic Kerry?”
“Among others.” I lowered my voice even though there was no one else in the café. ??
?Someone has created a construct, like a golem, and is using it to kill.”
Her expression darkened. “That’s ugly stuff. I wish I could help you, but all I know about golems is in the library, and I think you already absconded with the pertinent books.” She gave me a narrow-eyed look that made me grin.
“Vic and I went to high school together,” she added in another wrenching change of subject.
“I didn’t know you knew him,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head. “Oh, I wasn’t friends with him or anything. I didn’t even realize I’d gone to school with him until last year. He was doing the taxes for the store and we happened to get into a conversation about how old we were. Turned out we were in the same graduating class, and even had the same senior English teacher. But I don’t think we ever spoke a single word to each other. You know how that goes.”
I gave a neutral shrug. I didn’t like to think about my high school days.
“But, you know ... He and Mike Moran were really tight,” she said, with a slight frown.
“Huh? Mike Moran, the keyboardist for Lida’s band?”
“Oh, no. He’s actually a Michael Junior. Mike Moran was his father.”
I straightened. “And he and Vic were good friends?”
“Best friends. Vic even stood in Mike’s wedding, if I recall correctly. Mike and Audrey got married right out of high school. Everyone thought they were insane to rush into marriage like that, but then eight months later Mike Junior was born.” She snorted. “Stupid reason to get married, but they seemed to be doing all right. Then Audrey got pregnant again.”
“She died in childbirth with Lida, right?”
“Eclampsia,” Tessa said with a nod. “Damn near lost the baby too. Hard to believe that happens anymore, but it does.”
“Do you know how Mike Senior died?”
“Accident at the house, from what I understand. The roof collapsed in the garage. Mike was killed, and the kids were hurt—Michael quite seriously.”
“Was it an old house?” I asked.