Legacy of the Demon (32 page)

“Wait,” he said. “Kadir needs more.”

My heart sank. “I can't. I don't know the eighth ring.” Sure, I'd watched surveillance video of Rhyzkahl practicing, and even followed along, but while that gave me a head start on the broader strokes, it was useless for finer movements.

“It's all right,” Paul said with an encouraging smile. “Just follow my lead.” With that he began to dance the eighth ring, oh-so-slowly.

You can do this, Kara
. Focusing, I copied his every movement, from the angle of his feet and tilt of his wrists all the way down to the subtle movements of his fingers. Kadir's resonance enveloped me like icy snot, charging my hands with the esoteric energy I hadn't yet mastered.

Though Paul's tracings left only empty air, mine formed shimmering sigils. Twice he had me dispel a sigil, patiently repeating the movements until I got it right, but at long last I completed the very last sigil of the eighth ring.

“I can't ignite it,” I said, panting as if I'd just finished a marathon. Not only did a lord have to culminate a newly learned ring, but I'd first have to dance it on my own and with no assistance. Still, even an unculminated ring gave the shikvihr more oomph.

“Pretend like you can,” Paul said.

Pretend? Then again it couldn't get much more bizarre than it already was. With a mental shrug, I went through the physical and arcane motions for igniting a ring, oddly unsurprised when it flared bright, igniting to pulse in blazing glory with the other seven.

The sigils dimmed as Kadir tapped their power. I scrambled to fuel them with redirected flows. Pellini sucked in a labored breath, and though I wanted to rush to his side, the ritual needed constant tending.

Kadir formed a gelatinous globe of scum-green potency between his hands and dropped it onto Pellini's chest. The blob shuddered then broke into a billion chartreuse fragments that crawled over Pellini like neon maggots and burrowed into him—his joints, his gut, his throat, his eyes.
Everywhere
. Though Pellini didn't appear to be conscious, he writhed as if being eaten alive.

I turned my worried gaze on Paul.

He met my eyes, his face serene. “It's part of the process.”

Fine. Weird lord. Weird healing.

But no way was Kadir doing this out of the goodness of his heart. What price would he exact for bringing Pellini back from the dead?

Kadir continued to draw potency from the shikvihr, his long-fingered hands flowing in an intricate dance over Pellini. He brought his palms together, and potency maggots flooded from Pellini's nose and mouth to gather on his chest in a seething mass. Kadir hummed tunelessly and stroked the pile of maggots. The shikvihr whined like an engine pushed too far then faded to a ghostly grey.

Pellini's eyes flew open. His back arched, and he let out a scream that went right through my essence. The shikvihr shattered, echoing the sound.

“No!” I hobbled toward them. “What are you doing!?”

Without a glance my way, Kadir lifted his hand in a gesture that could only mean halt. “Interfere, and I will rip out his heart and feed it to you.”

Breath seizing, I stumbled to a stop. I had no doubt he would do just that.

Pellini thrashed, and Kadir immobilized him with bands of potency. I looked on in helpless horror as the maggots spread and began to form a pattern on Pellini's chest. He wasn't screaming anymore, but his eyes were wide and locked on Kadir.

The maggots jostled one another as if seeking precise positions until a recognizable pattern emerged—Kadir's sigil laid out in neon chartreuse potency bugs. Kadir placed his hand upon them, his face a rictus of anticipation.

For a moment nothing happened, then Pellini's mouth opened
in a soundless scream that made the audible one seem subdued. Smoke rose from his chest along with the stench of burned flesh even as the maggots vanished. Kadir leaned in closer. I could
feel
his sick fascination like a river of toxic sludge in his aura.

Paul placed a hand on Kadir's shoulder and murmured something I couldn't hear. Kadir went still for a heartbeat then touched Pellini's forehead with his fingertips. Pellini sucked in a breath as all indication of pain faded from his face. The potency bindings dissolved, and he lay breathing hard, whole and seemingly uninjured, other than a sigil scar the size of my splayed hand in the center of his chest.

With a flash of potency, Kadir burned away all traces of blood from Pellini, the ground, and himself, then stood smoothly. He was paler than usual, though. The healing—and the hurting—had clearly taken a toll on him.

Paul remained kneeling and rested his head against Kadir's thigh. The lord stroked Paul's hair, a gesture that still unsettled me. But I couldn't deny the look of peace on Paul's face and the diminished chaos in Kadir's aura. They were one hell of an odd pair, yet they seemed to complement each other perfectly in some mystifying, mutually beneficial way.

Kadir gestured for Pellini to get up. Pellini clambered to his feet, grinning despite his ordeal. Before I could sort out whether I needed to yell at Kadir or thank him, he and Paul were gone.

I rushed to Pellini and threw my arms around him. “You scared me,” I said, voice only quavering a tiny bit.

He returned the embrace. “Yeah, well, this manly chest
is
pretty intimidating. Especially now.”

That wrung a weak laugh from me. I gave him a squeeze then pulled back to look him over. “Are you . . . okay?”

He pulled the tatters of his shirt around him. “Yeah,” he said softly.

Worry stole through me, but it was evident he needed some time to process everything. I summoned what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “You'll be in a nice hot shower before you know it.”

“Yeah.” He looked around at the others then back to me. “We're done here, aren't we?”

“We're done here,” I said. There was no getting the gimkrah back, but at least I hadn't lost Pellini. “Let's go home.”

“Home.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “That's your best idea yet.”

With Turek supporting me, we gathered up the various members of our party, along with a cask of tunjen juice Jekki brought for us, then got our butts to the grove. Rho's presence was more tangible than ever, and I let myself sink into it for a precious moment as we made the transfer to Kadir's realm.

Our subsequent trek to the gate stayed blessedly uneventful. I took advantage of the conflict-free moments to prepare for what was sure to be a battle royal when we came through the gate on Earth. No way would Captain Hardnose take kindly to us arriving with two strange humans
and
a big scary demon. I'd have to utilize my full ninja powers of bullshit and persuasion to keep the newcomers—and the rest of us—out of a holding cell.

Once we made it across the sand to the gate, I gathered everyone into a tight group between the two crystalline spires. “There's a military detachment on the other side of the gate,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Since I don't want anyone getting hurt by accident, I'd like Turek to get between Pellini and me.”

The demon hissed but complied.

“When we go through the gate,” I continued, “it's going to feel really strange for a few seconds.” I paused. “
Really
strange.”

Pre-flight instructions complete, I nodded to Pellini. We both placed a hand on the crystal nearest us, focused and . . .

This time I was ready for the disorienting free fall through cold, black nothingness. I firmly reminded myself to
Believe!
and fixed in my mind the image and feel of the parking lot and the DIRT units and air and gravity with all of us through, safe and sound.

The frigid dark shifted to cool breeze and the soft light of
dusk. My head spun as if I'd been twirling, but I wasn't nearly as disoriented as the last time. Within a few seconds, I was clear-headed enough to take stock of our group. Janice looked a bit green, as did Giovanni, but Michael had a broad grin on his face and was looking around in utter delight. Reassured that everyone had made it through safe and sound, I turned to confront the more pressing threat of trigger-happy DIRT personnel.

As if on cue, an alarm blared, and a voice rumbled through the PA. “Remain where you are and keep your hands in plain sight.”

“Stay on your toes,” I muttered to the others, making sure everyone had their hands and claws in the open.

A squad in riot gear trained their weapons on us, while another half dozen soldiers hurried toward the gate, demeanor downright unfriendly. Off to our left, Captain Hornak exited the command center and jogged our way.
Now
we'd get the “detain them all and let god sort them out” treatment. I struggled to scrape together an oh-so-compelling argument for why we all needed to remain free to go. Maybe I could threaten to call the President? Of course, there was always the chance that she'd agree with Hornak. Crap. This was going to be a mess.

“Welcome back!” Captain Hornak cried out with a broad smile, pairing it with a cheery wave. He stopped just beyond the arcane protections that surrounded the gate then leveled a scowl at the soldiers. “Stand down! That's no way to greet returning heroes.”

The confused soldiers lowered their weapons. I slid a perplexed glance at Pellini. The fuck?

He returned a baffled shrug. “We're in the goddam twilight zone,” he muttered.

Before I could offer agreement, Hornak gave a little fist pump of victory. “I can't tell you how thrilled I am that you made it back safe and sound.” Impossibly, his grin widened. “And you brought some friends with you. Welcome to Earth!”

I gaped at his downright creepy enthusiasm but finally recovered enough to whisper to Pellini, “What the fuck is going on? I didn't think his face could
make
a smile. It's got to be a trick of some sort to get us out of the protected area.”

“If so, it's the weirdest tactic I've ever seen.”

Captain Hornak bounced on his toes, looking as excited as a tween at a boy band concert. “When I heard that you had extra people and a demon with you, I arranged for an Armored
Personnel Carrier. It should be ready any second now.” A neon maggot wriggled up his neck and disappeared into his ear. “That way you can get everyone back to your headquarters without having to squeeze into your Humvee.”

I cleared my throat softly and glanced Pellini's way. “I think Kadir must have, ah, smoothed the way for us.”

His bafflement vanished. “Of course.” He snorted and tapped his scarred chest. “Kadir wanted to make sure his handiwork stayed in one piece.”

Strangely enough, the idea of Kadir manipulating the captain was a lot less creepy than Hornak suddenly being
nice
on his own. Not that I was thrilled with the prospect of Kadir on Earth influencing people at will—which probably tied into why he'd been dressed like an Abercrombie & Fitch model.

While Hornak busied himself shouting orders at the bewildered soldiers, we hustled our group into the waiting APC. It would have been a tight squeeze getting Turek into the Humvee, even without the human passengers. After a quick game of rock-paper-scissors to see who got to drive the APC, I hauled myself into the driver's seat, Pellini retrieved the Humvee, and we all got the hell out of there.

•   •   •

As soon as I felt confident that we wouldn't be chased down by soldiers who realized Hornak was off his rocker, I called Bryce and told him that we had the gold and were on our way home. I almost told him to go ahead and fire up the smelter, but caught myself just in time. Turek was sitting only a few feet behind me, and I didn't want to remind him that we intended to destroy unspeakably priceless artifacts and risk him changing his mind. Besides, Bryce was smart and knew we were in a time crunch.

I also told Bryce that we didn't have the gimkrah, but to my relief he didn't press for details. He could probably tell from my tone that it was a sore subject and best discussed later, preferably with alcohol in hand.

The roads were empty enough that after I hung up I could zone out a bit. By the time we rolled into my driveway, I had my second wind. Or fourth. I'd lost count.

Pellini parked the Humvee beside me, sketched a small wave in my direction then headed straight inside. To his room, I assumed, for some alone time. Janice seemed pensive as everyone else unloaded from the APC. While she looked around and got her bearings, I sent a quick text to Jill, asking her to please turn
off the TV in the war room. I needed a place to stash Janice until I was ready chaperone her reunion with Rhyzkahl—however entertaining that might be—but I didn't have the time or energy to go into why there was a TV channel called Demon News Network, much less explain whatever godawful horrific scene might be showing. To my relief, Janice made no argument when I asked her to give me a few minutes to take care of other pressing business, and she allowed Giovanni to escort her inside, Michael tagging behind.

With the humans settled for the moment, it was time to focus on the gold situation. Damn it.

I inclined my head to Turek. “Would you please come with me?” At his low hiss of assent, I limped around the side of the house to where Bryce, clad in a heavy apron, waited in a floodlit space halfway between the house and Jill's trailer. Beside him was what looked like a bright blue refrigerator but, I assumed, was the electric furnace. A stainless steel table held a scale, tongs, welding gloves, and molds for ingots, and all of it stood in the middle of a wide circle of sand. Good. Maybe we wouldn't end up burning the woods down.

Bryce frowned as we approached. “Where's the gold? We're cutting it close on time.”

“Turek has it,” I said, briefly amused by the deepening confusion on Bryce's face. But my humor faded quickly beneath the weight of what we were about to do. I looked up at the demon. “Honored one, will you please recall the discs for us?”

The savik bared his teeth then lifted all four hands. The air shimmered, and eleven gold discs coalesced into his palms.

Bryce's eyes widened as he took in the brilliant engraving and details, but he quickly schooled his expression to the impassive mask that had served him so well during his years as a hit man.

“What about the twelfth disc?” I asked. I couldn't tell which one was missing.

Turek snapped his teeth together inches from my face. “Eleven are adequate for the barter.”

Bryce eyed the demon, no doubt assessing the threat level. “Kara, are you sure about this plan?”

“I had the gimkrah then lost it,” I said around a thick knot in my throat. “Without it, we have no choice but to get the net. It's our only advantage now.”

Turek hissed as he placed the discs on the table. “Szerain
must
be freed.”

Bryce tugged a hand through his hair. “Guess I'd better get to it then.”

Grief swelled within me as Bryce picked up the first disc and placed it on the scale. “I have to take care of some things,” I blurted. It was totally chickenshit, but I simply could
not
stay and watch the destruction of the discs. “Just . . . do what you have to do.”

Bryce's eyes were full of understanding. “I'll handle it,” he said gently. “Kellum and I will head out to finish the deal as soon as the bars are ready to transport.”

Eyes already filling with tears, I nodded then hurried to the house as fast as my knee allowed. I had to stop on the porch to catch my breath from the pain, and I hazarded a look back. Bryce was cradling one of the disks between his hands, head lowered. Memorizing its beauty before he destroyed it?

I continued straight to my bedroom, aching at the suckiness of the whole situation. As soon as I closed the door, I flung myself on the bed, buried my face in a pillow and let myself have a full minute of good solid bawling. Everything was fucked up. Except for the gold, the trip to the demon realm had been a nightmarish waste of time. Lannist was dead, Pellini almost died, my knee was wrecked, and I'd managed to lose the master gimkrah. The need for the summoning hadn't budged, but what if the graphene net wasn't enough to hold a Jontari imperator? Had I ordered the destruction of unspeakably priceless artifacts only to end up as meat confetti at the claws of a demon?

Sitting up, I scrubbed at my face then checked my reflection in the dresser mirror. Yup, puffy eyes, red nose. A real vision. My eyes fell on Szerain's drawing that I'd brought back from the outreach center. Me in the tight pants and flowing brown coat with a spaceship in the background. That Kara didn't look like a frazzled, exhausted wreck. She was cool and confident and tough as nails, ready to stand firm against her enemies.

A faint smile struggled into place. Had Szerain seen that in me?

“Oh, Kara,” I breathed, “you can be a doofus sometimes.” We'd lost the gimkrah but brought back more than gold. We also had Turek and Michael which meant my chances of contacting Szerain were drastically improved. And if I could pull it off
sooner rather than later—like in the next few hours—Szerain and I could hash out the no-gimkrah problem.

I did a mental fist pump. Maybe we wouldn't need the net. Maybe we wouldn't need to destroy the discs.

I was almost to the bedroom door on my way to stop Bryce when the ugly truth slid home. The deal for the net was due to go down in mere hours, and it wasn't the kind of thing that could be rescheduled for my convenience. Not when the people getting us the net and risking major jail time had set a hard deadline. I had at best a fifty-fifty shot of communicating with Szerain before the full moon, and even
if
I made it past that hurdle, there was only a slim chance that we'd come up with a solution that didn't require the net. But if we missed this window for making the deal, we'd lose
all
chance of getting the net. No net plus no alternate solution equaled screwed for the summoning, screwed for Elinor, screwed for everything.

I muttered a variety of curses at the universe in general. There were too many variables in play for me to gamble the lives of not only everyone I loved but possibly all of humanity on an emotional decision to save
things
—even exquisite, irreplaceable things. Worst case scenario, I'd fail to reach Szerain before the summoning, and we'd be back to square one. But by that time, Bryce would have the net, the moon would be full, and I could re-evaluate my summoning plan.

I returned to the mirror and met my own eyes.
This
was the Kara from Szerain's drawing, the one who could make the hard decisions and stand firm. The one he trusted to “be lordy.” My dark mood lifted a little. Things weren't so bad after all.

And they'd only get better if I could watch Janice give Rhyzkahl a healthy piece of her mind.

Humming in anticipation, I dabbed concealer over the worst of the cry-face then headed to the war room.