Legacy of the Demon (38 page)

“The world would run out of coffee within a week if everyone was Kara Gillian.”

“Three days at best.” Jill strode to the door with a lilt in her step. “Then it would be every Kara Gillian for herself.”

A world without coffee? I shuddered and followed her out.

Back at the house, I started chewing my way through my pre-summoning to-do list, adding items and tasks as they occurred to me, and doing my best to not fret about the
Be lordy???
at the very bottom of the page. Within the first hour, the list doubled in size, at which time I realized that I was
possibly
delving into minutiae in order to avoid dealing with that last item on the list. I therefore began a regime of merciless prioritization and delegation because, for fuck's sake, Kara. No, I didn't need to break out the weed-whacker and trim the grass around the nexus. I was summoning a demon, not the President. Nor did I personally need to change the burned out floodlight at the northwest corner of the house when I had any number of people who would gladly do it for me. In similar fashion, I delegated filling a sports bottle with tunjen, and crossed out
Clean oven
and
Fold laundry
. Seriously, what was I thinking?

“Lunch,” Pellini said as I sat hunched over my list at the kitchen table.

I obediently wrote down
Lunch
. “Can you take care of getting my wizard staff from DIRT?” The six-foot long turbo-charged cattle prod was deliciously effective against most demons and would be awfully nice to have on hand.

“Sure thing, but only after you stop and eat your goddamn lunch.”

I lifted my head, surprised to see a plate bearing a grilled-cheese sandwich, a generous handful of figs, and several strips of bacon. “Oh. Where'd that come from?”

He cast his eyes heavenward. “I fucking cooked it while you
sat there and muttered to yourself. Now eat it before I hold you down and force-feed you.”

I snatched up the sandwich and took a hasty bite. Pellini was the sort to carry out a threat like that. “Thanks,” I mumbled around bread and cheese. My appetite woke up as sandwich met stomach, and I tore through the rest of the food.

“That's better,” Pellini said with a satisfied nod.

“Yeah, I
feel
better.” I leaned back and rubbed my happy belly. “Did Jill find an open farmer's market?”

He gave me a curious look. “No. Why?”

“The figs,” I said, gesturing to the remnants on the plate. “Where'd they come from?”

“Seriously? From the fig trees on your property.”

I blinked. “Wait. I have fig trees?”

Pellini tossed his hands up. “Jesus. You have about half a dozen along the east fence line.”

“Huh. That's cool. I love figs.”

He shook his head, laughing softly. “I'm gonna go see about getting the wizard staff.”

“Thanks for lunch,” I said. “You take pretty good care of me.”

He snorted and drew breath to make what I was certain would be a snarky reply, but instead he let it out and gave me a crooked smile. “Anytime, Kara,” he said then strode off toward the war room.

Feeling restored in body and mind, I skimmed the rest of my list, pleased to see that the major tasks had all been taken care of—with the exception of the Be Lordy crap. Maybe being lordy was about being super confident? Lifting my chin, I filled my brain with positive thoughts.
Tonight, I will successfully summon a Jontari Imperator, survive the experience, and send him to Fed Central to snatch Elinor from Xharbek's clutches!

Crap. Unless Xharbek had moved her. That was a very non-positive thought, but a darn timely one. It would suck major ass to make it through the summoning only to send Dekkak to the wrong place.

After a moment of consideration, I pulled out my phone and called Agent Clint Gallagher. It was a total long shot, but if he was keeping tabs on the plague victims, he might know something about a non-plague patient.

“It's Kara Gillian,” I said when he answered. “Do you know anything about patients brought to Fed Central since my last visit?”

“No, because there haven't been any,” he replied gruffly.

“Wait,” I said. “
No
new patients? There've been no more plague victims?”

“That's right. Guess there wasn't much of whatever infected them.” He paused. “David Hawkins has been in a giant black sphere since a few hours after you saw him.”

A pod.
“Has Dr. Patel said anything about his potential outcome?”

He made a noise of frustration. “Not a word. Have you figured anything out on your end?”

“Nothing useful,” I said honestly enough.

“All right,” he said, voice thick with disappointment. “Why did you want to know about new patients?”

“Just checking on the status of the plague,” I lied. “I'll be sure to keep you in the loop if I find out anything,” I lied some more.

“Do that.”

I disconnected and scowled at my phone. So much for my long shot. I was running out of time and options for nailing down Elinor's location.

“Kara, you dumbass,” I muttered with a smile. I had an Elinor-sensor right inside me.

Relaxing, I closed my eyes and let myself sink into her awareness.

Bright light and pale walls. A man in blue scrubs.

That could be anywhere, damn it.

Tick. Tick. T-t-t-tock.

But
that
was Fed Central.

I opened my eyes, wrote
Find Elinor
on my to-do list, then drew a nice thick line through it. That was satisfying, but now I had no choice but to deal with the final item.

Scowling, I wadded up the list and chucked it in the trash, then I went down to the basement and made a pile of every bit of Jontari info we'd scraped up. To that I added Szerain's notes, Elinor's journal, and my own notebook, then I lugged it all out to the nexus, plopped down to sit on the slab beneath the grove tree, and tried to figure out what the hell to do next. Because I honestly had no idea.

All I knew was that this very evening I'd be calling Dekkak
to this gleaming black and silver surface—after spilling blood. Or maybe the blood part came after the demon was here. I didn't know when or even how much. But there would be blood. Mine.

Fuck. Me.

Instinct and habit yammered at me to prepare and make ready, but refused to give me any specifics on how or what to do. None of my usual habits or personal rituals were needed for this summoning. Well, except for the shower I always took before a summoning, this time as a courtesy to anyone standing beside me, but I wouldn't be doing that until later this evening.

At a loss, I attempted to diligently pore over the materials I'd brought with me but gave up after only a few minutes. There was nothing I needed to memorize. No sigils to double-check for what to use and in what order for my diagram.

Because I wouldn't be using a diagram.

Nearly twelve years of being a summoner. Twelve months in a year. At least one summoning every full moon. Okay, so I'd only performed a handful in the past year, but even so, I'd drawn out well over a hundred and fifty summoning diagrams in chalk and blood during my summoning career. That didn't even count the several hundred in chalk alone that I'd drawn just for practice.

Simple, low-level summoning diagrams could be sketched out in about an hour. For my first reyza summoning—Kehlirik—I'd spent nearly five hours on the diagram, checking and rechecking every aspect.

The summoning of Dekkak would be the biggest I'd ever done in my life—and I wouldn't draw a single sigil. Not the slightest dust of chalk. And that was freaking me out.

Be lordy.
Yeah, right. Beeeeee the ritual. Beeeeee the summoning.

Beeeeee scared out of my mind.

Ugh. Stop being such a ninny
.

I rested my head against the smooth bark of the tree. The leaves rustled high above. My fear retreated, and calm clarity took its place.

All right, so I'd never realized before how much the creation of a summoning diagram calmed and focused me. Chalking sigils required me to scrutinize every detail, every nuance, every fragment of the whole. The process embedded the many aspects of the ritual in my consciousness in a way rote study could never accomplish. It gave me an intrinsic and nearly instinctive
awareness of how all the pieces fit together. The ritual diagram was more than a complicated picture. It was a set of instructions, a recipe. An incredibly complex program.

Want to summon a demon?
There's an app for that.
I thought with a quiet giggle. And the nexus was one hell of a supercomputer.

But how was I supposed to hold the entire program in my head? How was I supposed to
know
what to do?

A breeze stirred the branches, vibrating the trunk pleasantly against my back. Iridescent shadows rippled and danced over the grass and my legs, like a mystical alphabet holding the secrets to the universe.

Ohhhhhhh.

For a human summoner, the sigils were important, whether floaters or chalk-sketched. They were human-comprehension-sized building blocks that defined and specified the parameters and the limits of the conglomerate summoning blueprint. No ordinary human summoner could hold the complete essence of a ritual in their head, which is why the preparation of the diagram—using discrete units—was so important.

But at the end of the day it wasn't the loops and swirls and curlicues that mattered. It was what they conveyed. Just as black marks on pulped wood were only significant because they could form words that conveyed ideas and meaning.

My problem was that I'd been struggling to understand how I could
be
the ritual with my puny little human brain. I'd forgotten that the nexus not only allowed me to draw on Rhyzkahl's power, but also to tap his demi-god-like resources to
know
the ritual in full then shape and control the potency accordingly.

Relieved, I sent a wordless thanks to Rho for nudging my thoughts in the right direction. I let my attention drift to where Mr. Lordy himself was pulling cucumber vines and tossing them into a pile a beyond his orbit.

With Idris arriving in the next day or so, it was time to break the news to Rhyzkahl that he was a daddy. I briefly considered ordering him over to me, then decided I was feeling too good to be confrontational. Instead, I stood and made my way to the heap of plant detritus.

“Why are you destroying your cucumbers?”

“They have ceased producing,” Rhyzkahl said as he chucked another clump of vines onto the pile. Dirt scattered onto my feet, which was no doubt by intent. “As they have outlived their
usefulness, they must be removed and the soil replenished so that others may thrive.”

“Uh huh. Are we still talking about cucumbers?”

He straightened, dusting dirt from his hands as he glowered at me. “Do you yet insist on engaging in this folly?”

It took me a second to realize he meant the impending summoning. “Unless you have a brilliant idea for some other way to rescue Elinor, yes.”

“And so, without the gimkrah, you seek to summon an imperator.” He spat the word. “Your imprudence will cost you your life, Kara Gillian.”

“Nah, I think I got this shit,” I said cheerfully. “Though, I gotta say, it wasn't easy digging up information about the Jontari.” I cocked my head. “Don't suppose you happen to know why it was censored?”

“For a multitude of reasons that remain valid to this day,” he growled.

“Aw, c'mon. Throw me a bone here. If I'm going to risk dying beneath the claws of one of their ilk, I'd sure like to know what the deal is.” I eyed him. “Surely it isn't because the Jontari were killing all the summoners?”

Rhyzkahl gave a derisive snort. “The summoners who perished were either careless and lost control of the vortex and bindings, or were reckless enough to summon a creature far beyond their abilities to control.” He eyed me right back. “Such as an imperator.”

“Subtle.”

He crouched and resumed pulling up vines. His face was a cool mask, but he flung the vines away with more force.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Quite perceptive of you.”

“Fine. Keep your little secrets.” I didn't mind him having that little win since it was a warmup to my real purpose. I folded into a cross-legged sit—away from any not-so-accidental dirt spatters. “I like Janice,” I said casually. “She's smart and open-minded and doesn't take shit.”

The tension cording his shoulders eased slightly. “I enjoy her company.”

“And she clearly enjoys yours, too.” I plucked a blade of grass and wound it between my fingers. “I can't imagine how lonely you lords must have been when the ways were closed during those years after the cataclysm.”

“Centuries,” he said, and only the barest hitch in his voice revealed that I'd brushed a nerve. He shifted to the inner circumference of his orbit and began pinching dead blooms from clumps of yellow flowers. “It is no secret that we qaztahl enjoy the . . . endlessly entertaining presence of humans in the demon realm.” His tone became lofty, as if to imply human company was akin to watching kittens play. “Your species' antics are an interesting diversion.”

Smartass replies crowded forward, but rising to his bait wouldn't serve my purpose. “Would it really be so terrible to admit that you've occasionally had feelings for a human?”

He fell silent for several heartbeats, though his deft fingers continued to remove spent blooms. “There have been humans whose company I enjoyed more than others,” he said. Grudgingly.

I suppressed a grin of victory.

But Rhyzkahl shocked me by adding, “Elinor was dear to me.” He turned and met my eyes. “But this you know already.”

A flush crept up my neck, even though I hadn't spied on his intimate moments with Elinor on purpose.

“Through the millennia, I have held fondness for others as well,” he said.

“What about Tessa?” I asked with a bared-teeth smile. “Were you fond of her, or was she just a casual fuck?”

Rhyzkahl went still.