Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian #5)

Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian #5) Page 33

“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 stop 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.