Legacy of the Demon (50 page)

Jill gave him a quick, hard hug that seemed to surprise them both, then wheeled toward me. “It's Ashava,” she gasped. “She's practically beating on the inside of my head. She needs to come here, but you have to help her.
Now.
It's really important.”

My tongue stumbled over itself in astonishment for several seconds. “Help?” I finally managed. “How?”

“She says to reach for her?” Jill gave a confused shake of her head then seized my hand. “She told me you'd know what to do. So
do
it. Hurry!”

There was no nexus here to aid me, but I had mega-Mom power instead. Using everything Szerain's sketches had revealed of Ashava's spirit and personality, I fixed the sense of her in my mind then mentally
reached
, as if extending a hand to help someone out of a ditch.

I
felt
a hand seize mine, both physically and in a ghost-grip of the arcane. The next thing I knew, a lovely young girl with auburn hair and brilliant blue eyes stood before us.

“Mommy!” she cried out with unabashed joy, then she threw her arms around Jill's waist and pressed her head to her mother's chest.

Jill let out a choked sob and held her daughter close. After only a few seconds, they stepped apart, as if both remembered the urgency of the situation.

Keeping hold of her mother's hand, Ashava turned to me, eyes grave in a ten-year-old's face. “Xharbek is mad,” she said, and I clearly felt the dual meaning of angry and crazy. “You killed the Katashi syraza, his key instrument on Earth. You stole his chance to use Elinor. And Szerain broke the bond.”

One thing was for sure, Ashava was hands down the most
well-spoken two-month-old I'd ever met. And the tallest. “We might have twisted his panties kind of tight,” I said with a snort.

“The lords have failed him,” she continued. “They wouldn't or couldn't do what
he
decided was needed to stabilize the demon realm. I'm now his last chance to execute a plan that benefits him more than any other.”

I scowled “Exploiting you against your will in the process.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn't be crippled as the lords are, but I'd be enslaved nonetheless.” Her little shoulders squared with determination. “Xharbek's approach isn't the only way,” she announced fiercely, as if to make her proclamation known to all. “And he will
never
have me.”

Her face paled an instant before a strong tremor shook the ground. Beyond her, Pellini and Idris scrambled to their feet and backed away from the valve.

Jill pulled Ashava close as if to shield her. “What's wrong?”

“Xharbek has washed his hands of the lords,” Ashava whispered. She looked up at her mother then at me, eyes wide. “And of me.”

The earth shuddered then shrieked as the spongy asphalt by the valve pulled apart in a rift-crack barely ten feet long and no more than a pace across. But instead of the magenta flames I was so accustomed to, luminous red potency roiled from the rift and spread like ground fog in all directions.

My heart began to pound. “He's ripped the valve open.” Xharbek had tried to accomplish the same thing via Katashi's arcane bomb, but now he'd given the plan his own crazypants rift-style upgrade. This would be a catastrophic flood of rakkuhr.

Pellini and Idris eased toward the valve-rift, already engaged in the monumental task of rakkuhr containment.

Elinor let out a cry of dismay. “I will assist them.” She took off, with Bryce on her heels.

“It's too much for us to control!” Ashava said, lower lip quivering ever so briefly. “Xharbek will destroy
both
worlds.”

Jill jerked her chin up. “Then we'd better stop him.” She took hold of Ashava's shoulders and gave her a full
-
strength
Listen up, because I mean business
glare—one that I'd been on the receiving end of a few times. “Xharbek wanted to use you, but he forgot that you've defeated him once already. You saved Earth when you were only a few minutes old. You have
power
.”

Ashava's eyes darted to the incapacitated Szerain, then she gulped as it hit her that
she
was the Big Lord On Campus at the moment.

“Stop that,” Jill ordered, voice rippling with love and tender rebuke at Ashava's doubt. “You're more than a demonic lord. More than all of them combined. You are a
qaztehl
.” She spoke
the last word with an intensity that seemed to ripple out from the two of them like shock waves.

Inhuman stillness settled over Ashava. “Thank you, mother,” she said with calm assurance. “I am Ashava, firstborn daughter of Zakaar and Jillian Lenora Faciane. Unfettered qaztehl.”

Her aura rolled over me like a Louisiana afternoon thunderstorm, magnificent power with the promise of destruction or life-giving mercy.

Holy shit. Mzatal had a powerful and intense aura, but while he was the Sun, Ashava was a SuperGiant star, dazzling all within reach.

Then she smiled brilliantly, shifting from goddess to girl in the blink of an eye. “I'm so glad you're here!” she cried out and threw her arms around Jill's waist.

“Ditto that,” Jill said, hugging Ashava close. “Though I shudder to think what kind of turmoil my house will be in when I get back.” She grinned at my questioning look. “After Roper dropped off the makkas, Michael
immediately
fixated on makkas-collaring the kittens.” She rolled her eyes, but they sparkled with genuine affection. “Unfortunately, Pellini's dog thought ‘chase the kitty' was a great game. Michael managed to collar four of them, but by the time I dashed out, two were still in hiding, and Lilith was breaking out the tuna—”

“Incoming!” Bryce shouted, bringing his rifle to bear on a zhurn flying in our direction like a piece of night.

Jill didn't waste a single instant. Before the
ing
left Bryce's mouth, she clutched Ashava close and dropped to the ground, shielding her with arms and legs and body, even as Ashava threw a barrier of potency around them both. Mother and daughter, fiercely protecting each other. Utterly adorable.

The
crack-crack-crack
of Bravo Squad's weapons filled the air, but the zhurn made a tough target as it darted from shadow to shadow. Bryce and I drew down on it as it came within range, both of us waiting for a clear shot.

Yet instead of arrowing straight at us, it swooped and snagged the makkas lasso with a claw then hurled it into the rift with the finesse of a Frisbee pro.

Then it let out a screech like tearing metal as two hundred pounds of dog slammed into it. A growl and the snap of teeth, and the screech cut off.

“Yeeehaaaw! Git 'im!”

I stumbled back barely in time to avoid being trampled as a
horse galloped past, hooves muffled by the soft ground. The rider let out another whoop as the dog shook the zhurn like a terrier with a rat then flung it aside. The horse reared and came down hard with both hooves on the mangled zhurn. As the demon discorporeated, the horse sidled away, snorting as if satisfied.

Another half dozen horses and riders cantered to a stop in the parking lot, Boudreaux in the lead.

“You made it,” I said stupidly, grinning like an idiot.

“Fuck if I'll let you have all the fun,” Boudreaux said. His eyes widened as he saw Ashava and Jill scrambling to their feet. “Why is there a
kid
here?”

“Mascot.”

“Real funny, I—” Boudreaux's face went sheet-white. “Oh fuck. Fuck! No! Kid, stop! You can't pet that dog! He'll bite . . .” He trailed off, staring in shock as the bear-sized demon-killing Caucasian Shepherd wiggled and bounced like a puppy around a delighted Ashava.

“Okay, she's a bit more than a mascot,” I said.

Ashava sucked in a sharp breath and called glorious violet potency to her free hand. In the next heartbeat, Rhyzkahl and a syraza appeared not ten feet away from us. Immediately, the demon released Rhyzkahl's shoulder and vanished.

“Hold your fire!” I shouted as the horsemen brought their weapons to bear on the intruder.

Boudreaux lifted a hand. “Horsemen, stand down,” he said, eyes on the demonic lord. “It's cool.” He licked dry lips, then he dragged his gaze away and closed his hand into a fist. “Move out northeast to support Bravo Squad.” With a nudge of his knees, he turned his horse and took off down the street, with his unit right behind him.

Boudreaux's reaction struck me as odd, but I had bigger worries.

Potency rippled around Rhyzkahl like the distortion waves of a mirage. “Peace, young one,” he said to Ashava, keeping his hands open and at his sides. “I bring no enmity.”

“Why are you here?” I demanded. “We're a little busy at the moment.”

“The situation is dire and affects us all.”

My eyes narrowed to slits. “Thanks but no thanks. We don't need the distraction of worrying that you'll stab us in the back the instant we take our eyes off you.”

“In this matter, we are allied, Kara Gillian.” He paused. “And I will give you the eighth ring of the shikvihr.”

“Wait, what?” I stared at him in utter disbelief. “Are you insane? It doesn't work like that.”

My surprise doubled as Ashava released the readied potency strike and inclined her head to Rhyzkahl. “Dak lahn,” she said then gave her mother's hand a tug and started toward the valve-rift. Jill shot a hard look at Rhyzkahl but went with her daughter, apparently trusting that Ashava wouldn't leave me if there was any real danger.

Great. Now I was alone with a nonsense-spouting lord.

Rhyzkahl's gaze locked on me with unnerving intensity. “Each ring of the shikvihr conveys an exponential increase in focus, power, and ability. You need every possible advantage if Xharbek is to be thwarted.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” I said, voice acid. “But I haven't learned the sigils or had any training for the eighth.”

“There is no need. The sigils are merely the components.” He lowered his head, eyes on me. “When you summoned Dekkak, you held the entirety of the ritual within you. You understood the whole of it.”

“Only because I had the nexus and
your
power,” I retorted. “I'm back to being an ordinary summoner now.”

“Never ordinary,” he said, amusement flashing through his eyes before he grew serious again. “Your prolonged work with my power through the nexus has attuned you to a new arcane frequency. The ability to comprehend the omneity remains with you, though perhaps not as readily accessed. You
know
the purpose and meaning of the eighth ring. We have but to culminate it.”

His words reverberated with truth that my own essence echoed. I
did
know and understand the ring. Not only had I watched him a million times, but I'd danced it with Paul in the demon realm. More importantly, I
felt
it hovering on the edge of my awareness, fully formed and waiting to be taken. I'd never experienced that with any other ring.

Rhyzkahl had absolutely zero reason to lead me astray in this moment—not with the fate of both worlds in the balance.

“You're right,” I said with a firm nod. “Okay. Eighth ring. Let's do it.” A lord's intervention was required to complete mastery of each ring of the shikvihr. Regret lanced through me that it wouldn't be Mzatal this time, but necessity trumped sentiment.

“Dance, Kara Gillian,” he said.

Determined, I stepped a few feet away, pygahed for focus, and traced the first sigil of the first ring. Except I didn't. Where the glowing sigil should have been, there was only empty air. Realization hit me like a punch to the gut. “This isn't going to work,” I said, voice quavering with disappointment despite every effort to control it. “Without the nexus, I can't do floating sigils on Earth until I have all eleven rings of the shikvihr.”

“Then I have wasted my time.”

Words leaped to my tongue to tell him where he could shove his sick, end-of-the-world petty revenge games, but I reined them back. Rhyzkahl hadn't agreed with me. He'd simply commented on my own assertions. My own beliefs. My momentary
can't do
attitude.

Besides, it was downright stupid to think that he'd come to this godawful spot just to fuck with me. Nor would he purposefully waste his time. With all that in mind, I settled in again and sought the resources that
must
be there.

And I found them via his aura. It provided the eerie reminder of the Rhyzkahl-powered nexus and, through it, the resonance of the super-shikvihr.

Once again, I traced the initial sigil, unsurprised as it hung in the air with a perfect golden glow. With methodical precision, I danced the first three rings of sigils, but by the fourth, method melted into pure flow. The whole of the shikvihr, all eleven rings, shimmered in my essence like a waiting blueprint.

Beeeeee the shikvihr.

I ignited the seventh ring and flowed right into the eighth. My mind no longer thought in terms of individual sigils, but of shaping potency to match the resonance of the internal blueprint. My arms curved through the air with my hands leading them in perfect trajectories, graceful and free as I circled and created. I felt every shift and nuance and flow with effortless perfection. For the first time ever, I truly
danced
the shikvihr.

With a flourish, I added the last loop to the final sigil of the eighth ring, then reluctantly disengaged from the process. Seven rings glowed brightly around me. The eighth was dim in comparison, still unignited. Hot damn.

I faced Rhyzkahl. “Okee dokee. I'm ready for the lordy mojo.”

Without a word, Rhyzkahl eased through the sigil rings to stand behind me. As he wove the rings together, I absorbed every subtlety of my creation. My awareness of the shikvihr grew
until a sudden mental flashpoint of
knowing
it to be simply an extension and amplification of
me
. That was why each person had to dance their own shikvihr, and why only a handful of summoners had ever mastered all eleven rings. To have even a chance, you had to not only recognize your own potential, but accept and embrace it as well.

Rhyzkahl didn't need to tell me when he was finished. I felt it in every cell of my body, then ignited the eighth ring in a flash of cerulean blue. The power infused me like a caffeine overdose without any of the jitters, and I did a fist pump of victory. It would have been easy to tell myself that the eighth ring was Rhyzkahl's way of offering an apology for his various sins against me, but I knew it wasn't. Nor did it need to be. We'd united against a common threat, and the rest didn't matter.

“Dak'nikahl lahn,” I said.
Thank you very much
.

To my surprise he replied with, “Tahnk si-a kahlzeb.”
It was my honor
, instead of the expected
sihn
for
You're welcome
.

A pressure wave hit like a fist, sending us staggering and causing my ears to pop painfully. Less than a heartbeat later, the ground heaved, flinging us off our feet.

When the world stopped bucking, I struggled up to my hands and knees. Through the ringing in my ears, I dimly heard shouts of alarm along with the chatter of automatic weapons. I blinked to clear my eyes, only to see rakkuhr blasting from the rift like ash from an erupting volcano.

Rhyzkahl hauled me to my feet. “Xharbek has blown the valve rift wide open,” he said eyes blazing with fury—and a barely perceptible touch of fear. An angry scrape covered one side of his face from cheek to chin. He started toward the rift, support-dragging me along.

The crew working at the rift had been knocked to the ground and now clambered to their feet. Ashava was the first up and darted toward the spewing rift with a cry of dismay.

“Rhyzkahl!” she shouted, child-voice at odds with the power it held. “Help me seal the rift!” Sealing was like placing a patch. It wasn't the same as permanently closing, but it would drastically slow the erupting of rakkuhr.

He released me and strode forward. “We cannot seal it until we ease the flow.”

Ashava narrowed her eyes. “We'll form a shield to block the potency. The others can hold it in place while you and I create the patch seal.”

He swept an assessing gaze over the assembly as if checking his available tools then nodded. “It will require supreme effort from all to accomplish this. Let us begin.”

Ashava and Rhyzkahl took up positions on opposite sides of the rift, and the rest of us arranged ourselves to fill in the gaps—Idris and Pellini beside Rhyzkahl, and Elinor and me by Ashava. Yet worry dug at me like a tag on a new shirt. There was a flaw to the plan, or something we'd failed to consider, though I couldn't pin it down.