Blood of the Demon (Kara Gillian #2)

Blood of the Demon (Kara Gillian #2) Page 11

I gave a breathless laugh as I pulled myself onto a stool. Dismissals were tiring, and I’d already started out exhausted. “Sorry, chick. That was the real thing.” I looked at her warily. “Are you … I mean, is this going to be …” My words trailed away. I didn’t know how to ask what I wanted to know.

“Oh, hell, Kara. I’ve always known that you were more than a little off. Now I know why. If anything, the knowing makes you a lot easier to understand.”

I smiled, woozy with relief and gratitude. I could feel tears forming and I sniffled. She gave me a mock glare. “Don’t you fucking cry on me, bitch.”

I laughed, scrubbing away the beginnings of the tears. “Not a chance.”

“If I wasn’t on call, I’d suggest seeing if that crazy-as-shit aunt of yours has any booze in this house, because I think that we both need to get stinking fucking drunk.”

“I think you’re absolutely right.”

“But,” she said with a wicked gleam in her eyes, “I have something almost as good out in the car. Good thing I was on my way home from the grocery!” With that she turned and dashed out the door. Less than a minute later she returned, proudly holding a gallon of double-chocolate-fudge ice cream. “Well, what are you waiting for? It’s melting. Get the damn spoons!”

I did.

Chapter 9

We didn’t polish off the entire gallon—though not for lack of trying—but it was enough for us to get past the weirdness of the evening.

I’d never had a close friend. Ryan was the closest I had, but I’d known him for only a few weeks. And the demons hate him, I had to remind myself. Or at least Kehlirik does. Why? And how the fuck did any of the demons even know him well enough to hate him? I liked Ryan. I really did, but I couldn’t ignore my doubts any longer. And there was also an insecure part of me that wondered if we were friends only because he knew about me being a summoner and he could sense the arcane too.

But now Jill knew about the arcane and the summoning and was cool about it. Or maybe she wasn’t cool about it, but she was going to pretend to be cool about it for my sake, and that was all I could hope for. I trusted her.

And how much do I trust Ryan? the quiet voice whispered at the back of my head.

I’d ended up telling Jill everything about the Symbol Man case—all of the details that had been conveniently left out of my written reports. I even told her about Rhyzkahl, and, more important, I told her what had happened the first time I summoned him. And this was something that I’d never told Ryan. Hey, I summoned a demonic lord and then we had crazy fantastic sex on the rug in front of the fireplace. Ryan was a guy, and guys—even ones you were just friends with—could be funny about hearing details of your sex life when it didn’t include them. Or maybe that was only me being a total chickenshit again. That was more likely, considering my dearth of experience in dealing with guys.

But Jill got it. And when I told her how Rhyzkahl had saved my life, her response was a slow nod and “That is so totally cool.”

I replaced the wards with my own crappy ones, then made it back to my own house, doing my best to avoid thinking about summoning Rhyzkahl. I sat at my kitchen table and tried to distract myself by focusing on the notes from my cases, but the broad door to my basement beckoned me and my thoughts kept going back to the demonic lord. There was a pretty damn big part of me that wanted to see him again, wanted to know where I stood with him. Then there was another fairly major part that was fully aware of how self-serving he was. He was a demon, not human, with an alien moral code. Demons were not good or evil in any sense that we as humans understood. To them, honor was paramount, yet at the same time they never did anything without cause.

So I knew he wanted something from me—wanted my aid, or skills, or wanted some opportunity I could provide for him. He wasn’t asking me to summon him because he missed me, or because he desired me, or because he was fond of me.

That also raised the question of why he had saved my life, but unfortunately I had a feeling I’d already answered that one. He wants something from me. Altruism simply did not exist in the demon ethic.

But that could work both ways. There were things that he could do for me. I certainly had some pressing questions about essences and other arcane matters that I hoped he could answer.

I tugged my notebook out of my bag and tore a clean page out. I had too many questions, and I wasn’t sure if I had time to dig through the maelstrom of disorder that was Tessa’s library. Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to summon Rhyzkahl?

I dug the tip of my pen into the paper as my annoyance with myself rose. There was no getting around it. I’d already essentially made up my mind to summon him. And tonight was the last night that the moon would be full enough to do it until next month.

According to Kehlirik, Rhyzkahl had given his oath that I could safely summon him. And the chances of Kehlirik lying about that were somewhere between none and none. Not with the demonic sense of honor in play. The demonkind could be vicious and dangerous and devious, but they did not lie. Instead, they were deeply skilled at telling truth in a way that would have you believe what they wished.

Screw it. If I was going to do this thing, I might as well make it worth my while. As long as I had a demonic lord at my disposal, I would see what information I could wring out of him.

I had two bodies stripped of essence. I’d start with that. I pulled the paper closer and began to write.

1) Could another summoner be using an ilius to consume essences? And why?

2) And if not an ilius, then what the hell is doing it?

3) Whatever is doing it, how can I stop it from happening again?

I paused, pen on the paper, throat suddenly tight. My next question had nothing to do with the two bodies.

4) Is there any way to recover essence?

This one was all about my aunt. If there wasn’t a way to recover an essence that had been pulled away, then there was no point in keeping my aunt’s body alive any longer.

That wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on at the moment. I took a steadying breath and kept writing. I had some questions that I was fairly certain Rhyzkahl knew the answers to. I wasn’t sure if I would have the nerve to ask him, but I went ahead and wrote them anyway.

5) What the fuck is a kiraknikahl?

6) Why did Kehlirik react with such hostility toward Ryan?

I looked down at the list, then folded it carefully.

I was going to summon the demonic lord.

I was usually nervous before summonings. There was a considerable amount of danger involved—especially in higher-level summonings—and so it was prudent to be overly cautious and meticulous.

The last time I’d prepared to summon a demonic lord, I’d been scared out of my mind—pretty damn certain that my chances of surviving the ritual were slim. But this time I had his word, albeit via Kehlirik, that there would be no reprisals upon me for summoning him.

A demon’s word was inviolate.

But I was scared shitless anyway. There were plenty of dangers other than the demon itself. I stood at the edge of the diagram, suddenly wishing that I’d had more to eat at lunch and had taken the opportunity to nap earlier. The moon was a day past full, which wouldn’t be an issue with any summoning below eighth or ninth level, but this was a demonic lord. Yet Kehlirik had stated that the moon would be full enough, so I could only hope that Rhyzkahl’s willingness to be summoned would offset the slight reduction in potency.

I took a deep breath, forcing my thoughts into the proper mind-set, and began to chant, shaping my will. The portal wouldn’t open at first and I sought to focus harder, but it was like trying not to think of a pink elephant. The crack formed and began to widen, but I felt sluggish, as if I were swimming through tar. I took another deep breath, seeking that point of my will that would shape the portal to my desire. Slowly, agonizingly, it widened farther, an arcane wind picking up and swirling throughout the room as I sucked air harshly between my teeth. My muscles trembled with the unexpected difficulty I was having with this portal. I hadn’t even named the demon yet, but I wondered if the difficulty was because of who I intended to summon, what I intended to summon. The words and the chants were minor aspects of the ritual, and I had shaped the portal from the beginning with Rhyzkahl in my mind. I’m psyching myself out. That’s a sure way to get killed.

The wind swirled higher as unexpected pain wrapped through me. I bit back a whimper, then gritted my teeth and forced the name out.

“Rhyzkahl.”

The wind died down and the light-filled portal snapped closed. I wanted to sag and drop to my knees, but I didn’t dare show the weakness. My vision cleared and, to my aching relief, I could see the crouched figure in front of me. I held the bindings, trembling, though I knew that if I’d actually brought Rhyzkahl through, they’d be useless. At this point I was hoping and praying to any gods who would pay attention to me that it was Rhyzkahl. He’d given his word not to harm me, but if another demon had somehow come through, I was dead meat. I’d been tired to begin with, and this ritual had been far more draining than I’d expected. Stupid, I railed at myself. Stupid and complacent. Nice way to end up dead.

I heard a soft hiss from the center of the diagram—a susurration that could have been either pleasure or menace. Then he stood, straightening slowly as if settling each vertebra in place, shaking his hair gracefully to ripple in a white-blond fall down his back. It had been weeks since I’d last seen him—tall and muscled and radiating the familiar aura of power and sexiness and unspeakable danger. He wore a white shirt tucked into black breeches that fit closely to his incredibly well-formed ass and legs, and if anything he was more gorgeous and perfect and angelic than before.

“That … was not a pleasant experience,” he snarled, crystal-blue eyes flashing as his gaze rested on me. A frisson of terror shot through me, jerking me out of my appreciation for his physique. I’d been fairly cavalier about summoning him, failing to keep in mind just how powerful an entity he was. I’d done a lousy job of opening the portal, and it had probably been quite painful for him.

I still gripped the bindings even though I knew they were useless against him. He’d brushed them aside like dust the last time. “Lord Rhyzkahl,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “The reyza Kehlirik told me that you wished me to summon you and … and that you gave your oath that I would not be harmed if I did so.”

He lowered his head and regarded me silently for several nerve-racking heartbeats. Then he smiled, menace disappearing as if it had never existed. “I will keep my oath. Release the bindings, Kara. You know they are useless anyway.”

I gave a shuddering exhalation, releasing my hold on the arcane bindings. They’d been more of a security blanket than anything. Rhyzkahl stepped out of the diagram to approach me. “You are looking far better than the last time I laid eyes on you, dear one.”

The last time he’d laid eyes on me, my bowels were spread out on the floor before me. “I cannot thank you enough for saving me,” I said, inclining my head.

He waved his hand as if brushing the mere idea away. Then he put a finger under my chin and tipped my head up, forcing me to meet his gaze. He looked down at me, deep and ancient eyes searching. I tried to suppress the shudder but wasn’t completely successful. I felt stripped bare.

He released me, frowning now. “Kehlirik warned me of your fatigue. He was not mistaken.”

“I’m fine,” I said, a muscle in my jaw twitching.

He lifted a silky eyebrow. “I gave you a chance to live and now you will throw that gift away? Most insulting.”

Great, now he was starting in on me too. I scowled. “No insult is intended. I haven’t slept much lately, and I have a lot going on at work.” I took a deep breath and tried to regain a measure of control. “You bade me summon you. I have done so. What is it you want of me?”

“Direct as always. I admire that. So different from the demon realm, with its endless scheming and intrigue.”

“There’s plenty of that here too. I can’t stand it. So what do you want?” My tone was more sour than I’d intended, but he just smiled again and turned away. He stepped to the cold and unlit fireplace. I sure as hell wasn’t going to light a fire in the middle of summer in south Louisiana. He trailed a hand over the back of the armchair, then looked back at me.

“I wish you to be mine,” he said.

I stared at him, skin tingling as the memory of the last time he’d been in the basement rushed through me. Best sex ever—no doubt. And he wants me to be his …? He wants me? I tried to remain rational. He wanted me, but as what? Wife? Girlfriend? What the hell kind of relationship did one have with a demonic lord? And was that something I wanted?

I took another couple of seconds to work some moisture back into my mouth. “Yours? Like, how? Marriage? Adoption? Lease with option to buy?”

His smile widened. “I wish you to be my summoner.”

Well, that was a bucket of ice water. Not wife. Not girlfriend. You moron. “Your … summoner.”

“Yes.”

I pushed down the absurd sting that he didn’t want me as some sort of consort. Yes, it was completely irrational. I knew that. I should be pleased that he was more attracted to my arcane abilities. But I’d never claimed to be free of insecurities. “And what would being your summoner entail?” I asked, wary. I was grateful for the rude wake-up. I’d almost forgotten what he was.

He sat down in the armchair, slouching just enough to make it sexy instead of sloppy. “You would summon me periodically, thus granting me greater access to this sphere while still under the restraints of the summoning protocols.” He slid a look to me. “Do not fear, dear one. I would not be unrestrained. My time would be limited, as any demon’s is.”