Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) (17 page)

I straightened. “To stop you from bonding?”

“That’s what I believe.” Anger and worry darkened his eyes. “Seretis didn’t think it was an accident either, and got pretty shook up.” The worry deepened. “But when he tried to figure out who might want to stop it—and why—he got a killer headache. It wouldn’t go away until he let go of thinking about it.”

“Shit,” I breathed. “When I introduced Mzatal to Jill, he connected with the baby and immediately got slammed with that same kind of headache. He told me it had happened many times before.” I already knew the demonic lords were manipulated to block awareness of their maternal human origins. Clearly there were other secrets they weren’t allowed to know. My mouth twisted as I met Bryce’s eyes. “It’s as if someone doesn’t want the lords to think about certain things.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Yeah, well, I didn’t bring up who might’ve shoved a couple of tons of masonry off the wall.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I said with a disingenuous bat of my eyelashes. “By the way, on a
totally
unrelated subject, what’s the name of Seretis’s ptarl? I don’t know all of the demahnk yet.”

Bryce snorted and folded his arms over his chest. “That would be Lannist.”

Yeah, he and I were on the same page. A big strong demahnk like Lannist would have no trouble pushing giant chunks of masonry around. And the Demahnk Council—or some faction of it—were my number one suspects as the source of the headaches.

“How did you end up with an essence bond if it was so rudely interrupted?” I asked.

The smile returned to his face. “Helori,” he said, referring to the demahnk who’d confirmed other sensitive info for me. “The next day he took us out to an Ekiri pavilion in the jungle. He told Seretis everything would be clearer for him there.”

That
was interesting. The Ekiri race had taught the demons how to use the arcane. Though they’d abandoned the demon realm millennia ago, their stone pavilions continued to radiate potent arcane energy. Perhaps that energy mitigated the effects of the manipulation on the lords or served as a source of information? I filed that tidbit away for future reference.

“Being in the pavilion was like being in low gravity while time stood still,” Bryce continued as his gaze went distant. “I
understood
the bond—the commitment, and what it all meant. Seretis asked me if I wished to continue.” His smile softened. “It felt
right
, so I said yes.” He blinked as if coming back to himself. “I can’t begin to describe it, but I think you know what I mean.”

“I do, and I’m insanely happy for you,” I said fervently. Bryce deserved a break, and he looked more at peace than I’d ever seen him.

Idris leaned in, messenger bag slung across his chest. “You almost ready to go?” he asked Bryce.

“One minute,” Bryce said and tossed a set of keys that Idris caught easily. “You can get the AC going if you want.”

Idris departed. Bryce pushed back from the desk and grabbed a knapsack from beside his chair.

“Thanks, Kara,” he said. “Oh, and you don’t really get a weird look in your eyes.”

“Now you’re lying to me.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I am.” And with that he strode out.

I headed out to the nexus, thoughts whirling. Even when Mzatal was open, we never had the depth of communication between the two worlds that Bryce had with Seretis. Ours was a vague sense of presence—certainly not to the point of “checking in.”

Yet I found myself more perplexed than envious. As far as I knew Mzatal hadn’t “consciously” formed our bond. Was it not as complete because he’d acted through instinct? If so, what did that mean about our relationship? Bryce had entered into an essence bond without it being a partnership or sexual relationship. And, if it was the same kind of bond, how and why did Mzatal and I get away with it, yet an attempt was made to stop Seretis and Bryce?

Helori had intervened to help those two. Maybe the same had been done for us, through indirect means.

Too many questions and unknowns. The few answers I had left me all the more unsettled. Fortunately for my state of mind, maintenance of the nexus was overdue and required full concentration. I settled on the concrete and threw myself into the work, eager to immerse for a few hours and bury the overwhelming sense that I was no more than a pawn in someone else’s game.

I didn’t intend to be one of those people who freaked out over the gory realities revealed in childbirth classes. But damn, the class with Jill was
way
more educational than I wanted.

It didn’t help that I’d missed the previous sessions. From what I gathered, the first sessions eased people into the bizarre concept of squirting a living being out of one’s nethers. But Jill had only a few more weeks to go before her due date, which meant I got thrown into the deep end—breathing and pushing and relaxing and blood and fluid and poop and holy shit was it ever a good thing I loved Jill.

Jill listened and took notes with the determination of a lawyer preparing to go before the Supreme Court. Steeev leaned forward in his chair, so fixated on the instructor’s every word that more than once she grew flustered by his intense regard and lost track of what she was saying. Though I couldn’t match his zeal I did my best to pay close attention. All the while I hoped and prayed to whoever might be listening that Zack would miraculously recover in time for the birth and let me off the hook.

At long last the class finished, freeing me from videos of devoted husbands counting breaths for panting wives. Jill and I headed out while Steeev hung back to collect one of every single guide and pamphlet the instructor had available.

“You want me to be in your face counting like the guys in the videos?” I asked her with a grin as we started across the parking lot.

“You’d get to ‘one’ before I punched you,” she said with a sweet smile.

I laughed. “Note to self: Stay out of punching range.”

“And whose idea was it to park in the last row because walking would be good for me?” she said in a tone perilously close to a whine.

“Steeev’s, along with everyone who parked in all the closer spaces,” I replied. “Though, if I was a meaner person, I’d say it was great payback for those times you forced me to go running with you.”

“At least I don’t complain as much as you did,” she said, passing between two cars.

I fell back to walk behind her in the narrow space which meant she couldn’t see me roll my eyes. “Suuuure you don’t.”

“Are you rolling your eyes?” Jill asked, passing between another line of cars. “I can hear you rolling your eyes.”

“Hey, you’re not a mom yet,” I pointed out. “I’m pretty sure you don’t get ‘hear rolling eyes’ superpowers until the kid can walk and talk.”

Jill stopped to let a van pass and glanced back at me with a smirk. “I have ‘I know Kara Gillian’ superpowers,” she said then frowned and opened her purse. “Crap. What did I do with the breast pump coupon they gave me?” She asked. “Do you have it?”

The van took its sweet time making its way down the row of cars. “Yeah, I stuck it in my bag,” I said as the van slowed more. Maybe they were stopping to ask us directions?

The side door slid open, and in the next instant Steeev shoved me hard against the car to my right as he bounded past with demon speed. Pamphlets rained down around me as his next leap took him onto the trunk of the car with Jill in his arms. A man in a ski mask reached from the van’s door to grab the empty air where she’d been a split second before.

“Fuck!” The man jerked back. “Get out of here!” he snapped to the driver.

The man behind the wheel slammed on the gas, leaving the stench of burning rubber in the air as the van tore off. I scrambled to recover my balance and staggered out from between the cars in time to get the license plate number. Not that it mattered since I had a feeling it would come back as stolen. The man at the door of the van had only said five words, but I recognized that harsh edge.
Jerry Steiner.
One of the vilest of Farouche’s henchmen. And the driver had been a big, stocky, broad-shouldered man. Angus McDunn, Boudreaux’s stepdad. I knew it in my bones.

Pulse still racing, I pivoted back toward Jill where she sat sprawled on the trunk of the sedan, one hand on her belly. Steeev stood over her on high alert like the protective badass demon he was.

“Are you all right?” I demanded.

“No!” she snapped back, eyes wide in shock. “What the fuck was that?”

I didn’t see any injuries on Jill—not even a scraped knee—which upped Steeev’s awesome factor by several notches. He continued to scan the parking lot, but I knew that if Jill or the baby were hurt in the slightest he’d have whisked them to the ER.

“I’m pretty sure those two men used to work for Farouche.” I helped her down from the trunk. “They’ve likely hooked up with Katashi,” I added, grim. “With Farouche out of the picture, they have little reason to be operating solo.”

“And I got in the way of them trying to grab you,” she said with a scowl. “You can thank me later. With ice cream.”

I hesitated before replying and looked up at Steeev. He leaped from the trunk to land with light grace beside us. I pretended not to notice the dent he left behind and instead picked up his scattered pamphlets.

“Kara Gillian was not the intended target,” Steeev told Jill, confirming my blossoming suspicion. “You were.”

She gaped in astonishment. “The hell?”

“Hey! You guys okay?”

We whirled to see the birthing class instructor hurrying our way, face twisted in concern.

“What happened?” she panted. “Was anyone hurt?”

“Some asshole racing through the parking lot almost hit Jill,” I said, and it didn’t take much effort for me to put on a glower for the instructor’s benefit. “Good thing Steve pulled her back in time.”

“Good thing indeed!” she said, turning a look of approval onto Steeev as he stood there radiating Badass Manly Man. “Did anyone get the tag number? I can call hospital security and let them know, unless you want to report it to the police?”

“I got the license plate,” I said and rattled it off. “If you could pass it on to the appropriate authorities, that would be great.”

She went off to make the call, and Steeev herded Jill to our car and stuffed her into the passenger side while I climbed into the back.

“One of you better explain why you think they were trying to kidnap me,” Jill said as soon as Steeev pulled out of the parking lot.

“Because Zack outed himself at the Farouche plantation,” I said, mentally kicking myself for not having thought of this earlier. “He named himself as Zakaar when he confronted Rhyzkahl, and word must have reached Katashi.” Though the Mraztur knew of Szerain and Zack, the demons and lords had been oathbound to not speak of it which explained why the baby had only now become a target for Katashi.

“But why come after me—” Jill stopped. Blinked. “Oh. Now they know . . .”

“Now they know you’re carrying the child of a demahnk,” I finished for her.

Jill’s expression went flat and cold. “They’re not getting my baby,” she said with fierce certainty. “Steeev, drive to my house.”
Her
house, where Zack was staying.
Was.

Shiiiiiiit. She was going to
flail
me. “Zack’s not there,” I said. “He’s gone. He left with Ryan and Sonny yesterday.”

The seat belt and her belly kept her from pivoting, but she flipped down the visor and snapped the mirror open to scour me with an angry gaze in the reflection. “Gone
where?
”

“I don’t know,” I groaned then related the phone conversation—what there was of it. “I swear I wasn’t intentionally keeping it from you,” I continued. “But the Sheriff’s Office called me right after that, and then you were gone this morning . . . I’m so sorry. It completely slipped my mind. I promise.”

Jill flipped the visor back up, but not before I caught a glimpse of the hurt that slashed across her face. I knew it wasn’t because of me, but that didn’t make me feel any better. From her viewpoint Zack had ditched her right before she needed him the most.

Damn it.
“Jill,” I said, “I can’t imagine any scenario where he’d distance himself from you and the bean unless it was to keep you safe.” But what did I know? He was a demahnk playing at being human.

She remained silent for several seconds, and when she finally spoke her voice was soft and sad, echoing my thoughts. “He’s not human.”

The weight of those three words hung in the air. She hadn’t said them to describe Zack but to affirm her recognition of his “not human-ness” and all it entailed. She was
accepting
—though she hated to do so—that she couldn’t expect him to act as a human would. And, whether any of us liked it or not, she couldn’t depend on him in the same way she could a human.

She let out a soft sigh and stroked her hand over her belly. “I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

I knew she didn’t mean the baby, but I had to clear the somber mood. “That’s cool, I’ll do it for you. C’mon, shove that belly up against mine and we’ll squeeze her through the belly buttons. I’m in good shape. I can carry her for a while.”

She let out a weak laugh. “Yeah. We could get it on video and be an internet sensation.” She rolled her neck on her shoulders and lifted her chin. “No matter what happens, I’m getting an awesome baby out of all of this.” The good ol’ fierce Jill strength returned to her posture. “No way am I giving her up. To
anyone.
”

“Damn straight,” I said, and even Steeev gave a firm nod of agreement.

We turned right at an intersection where we should have turned left to get to my house. “Where are we going?” I looked behind us in sudden worry. “Is someone following us? Are you trying to lose a tail?”

Steeev shook his head. “No, but it is imperative that you both consume ice cream.”

I laughed. “I knew you were the perfect syraza for this job.”