Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) (29 page)

“Kara,” Bryce said some time later. “Seretis needs you in the attic.”

My mouth went dry. No way was that a good thing. I thanked him and headed upstairs.

The comfortable twenty by twenty foot space of the converted attic could have easily been used as an office or another bedroom, but served Tessa well as a summoning chamber. The high, peaked ceiling easily accommodated large demons, and the floor had been painted to create a good surface for chalking sigils. A recliner and a small side table were tucked against the wall to the left. No other furniture.

That was how I’d always seen it, at least. But now Seretis stood near the recliner, beside a wall-mounted shelf I had no memory of. A pile of books and other items rested on the seat of the chair.

“Very heavily warded. Against
you
,” he said, voice low, “by both Isumo Katashi and Rhyzkahl.” He lifted a hand toward the pile then dropped it as if the weight was more than he could bear. “
Tah sesekur di lahn
.”

I hold sorrow for you
. That was the closest translation of the demon phrase. An expression of the deepest sympathy. I crossed to him and knelt by the items on the recliner. Two ancient volumes on summoning. A framed photo of a much younger Tessa smiling beside Katashi. Calligraphy mat, paper, brushes, ink. A dip pen. A ribbon-bound packet of air mail letters. A Japanese hand scroll. A stenographers pad.
Memorabilia
, I told myself. Nothing but relics from a time long gone. Except that one of the ink bottles appeared brand-new, and the date on the cover of the notepad was only three months past.

I snatched up the pad and flipped through it. Only the first half bore writing, but there was more than enough to shake my world to the core. To-do lists such as
Call Tsuneo re Isumo’s progress in Texas
and
Notify Gina of the revised schedule
. Plus notes for the creation of a ritual I didn’t recognize, with sigils drawn and scratched out—several pages of a portion of a diagram, like drafts of a document with each successive rendition containing fewer corrections as she closed in on the solution.

Frustrated, I stared at the last page, certain I’d seen the order of those sigils before but unable to rely on my faulty memory of the arcane.

“Seretis? What would these sigils do?” I asked, extending the notepad to him.

His jaw tightened as he skimmed the page. “They would be part of a larger ritual,” he said. “This section would serve to draw low-frequency potency to a point below the intended target. A segment like this for each frequency range would be quite effective to isolate the target from the arcane.”

Isolate from the arcane . . . She helped
design
the ritual that let Katashi hold me helpless while McDunn took my abilities.
How long had that plan been in the works? Long enough for the technique to have been perfected and Idris to have learned it from Katashi.

Reeling from the revelations, I sat heavily on the floor and struggled to make sense of it all. How could any of this be true? “I don’t even know what to believe anymore,” I said, voice quavering. “She was like a mother to me.”

Seretis trailed his fingers over the empty shelf, rested his hand on its edge. “I am so weary of the machinations,” he said, despair and fatigue in his eyes and in the set of his shoulders. His hand tightened on the shelf in a white-knuckled grip. “And Mzatal is on the verge of closing off again because of them.” With a guttural snarl he ripped the shelf from the wall and flung it across the room. After a few seconds he drew a deeper breath, and a portion of the dark mood faded from his stance. Bryce, lending support from downstairs through their bond.

I stood and offered Seretis my hand. “Let’s get everything packed up and ditch this party.”

He took my hand, gave it a light squeeze that conveyed far more than mere words, and together we returned downstairs.

We proceeded to fill the ten billion boxes to the brim with the contents of the library. Before I had a chance to tremble in horror at the mountain of
stuff
that needed to be loaded up, Bryce rolled in with an industrial-strength hand truck.

“Rented this as well,” he said. “Figured it might come in handy. Oh, also got a ramp for the front steps.”

“You’re the most brilliant man I know,” I breathed.

Bryce struck a pose. “Call me ‘Lazy Enough to Find An Easier Way Man!’”

With the help of physics and the invention of the wheel, we made short work of loading the van and trailer. The only snag came when a nosy neighbor wandered over on the pretense of walking her yappy dust mop of a dog, but Seretis deftly intervened. I didn’t hear what he said to her, but she left with a silly grin on her face and a bounce in her step.

Idris joined me in the rental for the return home, while Bryce and Seretis took Pellini’s truck, and Eilahn followed on the Ducati. As we got on our way, I couldn’t help but snort. “The last time I rented a vehicle, it was a fourteen foot moving truck to transport Kehlirik from my house to Tessa’s,” I told Idris.

“Why?” he asked, bewildered.

“A little over a year ago, Tessa lost her essence in the Symbol Man’s ritual and was in a coma,” I said. “I needed Kehlirik to remove the wards in her house so I could search her library for a way to save her.” I paused as I muscled the wheel through a turn then wrinkled my nose. “Funny thing, Kehlirik never said a word to me about the valve in there. And he sure as shit didn’t remove the wards from the hidden books. Or tell me about them.”

Idris sighed. “Rhyzkahl’s reyza.”

“Yup.” I made a face. “I did plenty of whining back then about the library as a whole being warded against me, especially since I was her only known relative and her student. But she was in a fragile state when I confronted her.” I made a rude noise. “Tessa told me she ‘thought it was the right thing to do at the time,’ and instead of getting a Clue and digging deeper, I let her get away with that lame excuse.”

We fell silent for the remainder of the drive. After I pulled up in front of the house and killed the engine, I announced to everyone that we’d unload the van and trailer
later.
Amazingly, no one argued. Hell, my property was warded to the teeth. No one was going to steal the stuff.

Idris jogged inside to enlist Pellini’s help in clearing space for when we finally got around to unloading the boxes. Too much energy, that one. Eilahn climbed off her motorcycle and trudged straight to her nest. Seretis stepped out of the pickup then grabbed at the door to steady himself.

Bryce rushed to his side. “Slow your roll, dammit,” he said to the pale and shaking lord, voice gruff with affection.

“He’s been here too long?” I asked with worry.

“He pushed it,” Bryce said, “but he needs to recharge on the nexus before he goes back.”

“Got it,” I said. “Anomalies and grouchy lords on the other side of the valve.”

Seretis straightened as he drew reserves from proximity to the nexus. “Grouchy
and
obstinate,” he said, mouth twitching into a smile, “and unlikely to reform.” He hooked one arm through Bryce’s then slipped his other through mine. A casual, friendly gesture, but it was clear he needed the added support.

“How bad are things in the demon realm right now?” I asked as we made our way to the backyard.

He sobered. “The flows are in chaos and cause tremors in every realm. Anomalies grow more frequent and more bizarre.” A shudder passed through him that I noticed only because of his arm against mine. “Fire rain deforested the southern reaches of Elofir’s realm—the first occurrence of such in two centuries. There is little rest for qaztahl or demahnk.”

My guilt spiked, and I winced. “I took you away for hours to pull down wards.”

Seretis gave my arm a squeeze. “Not against my will. The discoveries will no doubt prove advantageous in the long run.”

Bryce disengaged from Seretis. “Lemme get some blankets to cushion our butts on the concrete,” he said then detoured to the laundry room while Seretis and I continued to the nexus.

“What of Mzatal?” I asked.

Seretis’s steps faltered and recovered. “He is our driving force. None of us can match his . . . focus.” Yet he paled as he spoke, and his eyes grew wary.

I steadied him as we stepped up onto the nexus. “You don’t sound happy about that.”

“Mzatal does what he must,” he said and passed a hand over his face. “None dare shirk responsibilities in attending the flows.”

“It must be a lot harder now with him closed off,” I said with a wince.

Seretis slipped his arm from mine. “Closed?” He let out a single humorless laugh, harsh and laden with foreboding. “No, Mzatal has not closed.”

“But even before McDunn diminished me I could barely feel him,” I said in confusion. “He’d walled off except for a pinprick.”

Seretis tightened his hands to fists and lowered his head. His aura expanded as if he instinctively raised defenses, like a cat fluffing up at the bark of a dog. “A pinprick remains, and thus he is open yet.” Seretis spoke, words heavy and dark, bearing the weight of millennia of experience. “Mzatal commands resolve enough to thrust an entire sun through the span of a single hair. No, Kara Gillian, you have never known him fully closed and merged with his essence blade.” He opened his hands slowly, as if it took great force of will. “None can match Mzatal when he is thus. Formidable. Ruthless. Utterly focused.”

I tried to comprehend a fully closed Mzatal. “He had his blade at the plantation battle.” I paused. “Paul Ortiz almost died there.”

Seretis lifted his head, nodded gravely. “He put aside Khatur in the wake of Szerain’s exile. Though he reclaimed it to counter Rhyzkahl’s machinations against you, he has yet to embrace it fully again. Thus he walks a treacherous line between fury and control, distraction and focus.”

Dread settled into a sick coil in my chest. “As long as Khatur exists, Mzatal can’t be free.”

Seretis met my eyes. “When he created the essence blades, he wed his fate to them. A terrible choice.”

The coil tightened. “And now he can’t afford to set aside the blade even if he wanted to. Not with the Mraztur craziness and the demon realm falling apart. He needs the power and focus. The world needs it.”

“It is a wretched truth, Kara Gillian,” he said. “I cannot deny I cherished the respite of the past decade and a half when Khatur lay dormant.” His aura resolved to its normal level, and his voice carried a wistful nostalgia. “This last year in particular as he opened more with Idris, and with you.”

“He’s opened more with you, too,” I said.

One side of his mouth lifted. “And with Elofir as well. A welcome echo of times long past. It has been . . .” Seretis angled his head as he searched for the appropriate word. “
Nice
,” he finished.

“Nice is good,” I said. “But the whole world-going-to-hell thing is getting in the way.”

He exhaled. “There is no leisure for ‘nice’ amidst our current woes. With Szerain exiled, Rhyzkahl crippled, and Jesral weakened, we are hard-pressed.” Seretis brought his eyes back to mine, sad in contrast with his quick smile. “Yet I must confess, I take consolation in Rhyzkahl’s plight despite the challenges it poses.”

“It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.” I grinned, though his words stirred disquiet. The lords carried an unfathomable burden as an essential aspect of their existence—and had done so for thousands of years. Without their constant maintenance, the demon realm would cease to exist. How could
anyone
live with that much responsibility?

Bryce emerged from the house and spread an old quilt at the center of the slab. We settled on it, and Seretis’s features relaxed as he connected with the potency reservoir of the nexus.

“How long will Rhyzkahl be out of the game?” I asked.

“I never count him out,” Seretis said. “However, he is quite debilitated. He cannot tolerate sunlight, and he has ineffective connection to the flows.” He paused, unsettled. “There is no precedent for his condition. We do not know if he will ever recover.”

Without a ptarl
, I added silently. There was no precedent because, in the lords’ entire history, no ptarl had ever broken the bond. Though Szerain and Kadir were separated from their ptarls, their bonds remained intact. “As much as I despise Rhyzkahl,” I said, “it sucks that he can’t help fix the damage he caused.”

“His absence requires—” Seretis scrambled to stand then stared down at me with shock and distrust as if I’d turned rabid. “You have connected with him.”

Bryce stood, troubled gaze shifting from Seretis to me.

“Connected?” I rose to my feet as well since I didn’t like him towering over me—especially when I didn’t know what the hell was going on. “Wait, are you talking about the dream thing?”

If anything, his apprehension increased. “Yes. A dream link.”

“You don’t have to worry,” I said defensively. “It wasn’t like the other times Rhyzkahl came to my dreams. I wasn’t asleep, and I had total control for this one. Why are you so freaked?”

Seretis shook his head, a sharp movement. “Rhyzkahl is the target
with this new link.” He assessed me with narrowed eyes. “
You
are the initiator.”

“Huh?” I blinked, taken aback. “No, I’m not.”

“Who wove the link?” Seretis demanded. He advanced toward me, but Bryce thrust a hand between us to stop him.

“What are you talking about?” I demanded right back. As much as I liked Seretis, this confusing third-degree was getting old, fast. “I was about to go to sleep for the night, and the dream-thing just
happened
. I figured it was something Rhyzkahl tried to do that backfired on him.”

Seretis glowered. “He cannot create a dream link.”

“Sure he can,” I insisted. “He used to invade my dreams all the damn time.”

Bryce pressed his lips together then shocked me by taking hold of Seretis’s chin and forcing the lord to meet his eyes. “
Tell
her,” Bryce said, unflinching.

I planted my hands on my hips. “Tell me
what
?”

Seretis gave Bryce a look of deep chagrin coupled with unspeakable gratitude. “Rhyzkahl did not forge his previous dream links with you,” he said to me, subdued. “I did.”

Whoa. That was unexpected. “So
that’s
why you wigged out at Pellini’s ‘dreamer by the sea’ comment.”

His chagrin deepened. “
Yaghir tahn
,” he murmured and looked away.
Forgive me.

I rubbed the back of my neck. “You owed Rhyzkahl a debt?”

“I am weak,” he said, voice low. “I owe
every
qaztahl.”

Bryce seized his arm. “Stop that,” he ordered.

“Yeah, you need to listen to Bryce,” I said. “Just because you’re not a raging
asshole
doesn’t mean you’re weak.” Frowning, I tried to piece together his remarks. “I’m lost. If you didn’t create the link, and Rhyzkahl can’t, who did?”

“I do not know.” His mouth bowed into a puzzled frown. “None of the other qaztahl are able to do so, unless they have kept the ability well hidden.”

“Could a human have done it?” It was a stretch, but maybe Katashi or Tessa were fucking with me?

The look Seretis gave me said
No, no, and hell no
, but he answered with a more polite, “I do not believe it likely.”

All right, so that narrowed my suspect list down to non-humans and non-lords with arcane skills. In other words, most of the demon realm. “Since my abilities are gone, the dream link is too, right?”

“No. Such can be forged in any human, even ones without arcane talent,” he said with the authority of experience. “In the days when humans lived in the demon realm, I often linked with them. In this manner, I learned much of humanity.” His expression remained free of guilt, unlike when he’d spoken of forming the link to me from Rhyzkahl. Probably because he’d known Rhyzkahl was up to no good.

“Since my arcane loss won’t affect the dream link, what should I do if it happens again? Is it dangerous?”

“The danger to you is not physical,” he said, yet his tone grew serious. “The danger lies in what you choose to share with Rhyzkahl within the dream connection. It is quite real for him.”

“I punched him in the face,” I said with a crooked smile. “I’d be happy to share that with him again.”

Bryce let out a bark of laughter, but Seretis remained somber as he spoke. “It is up to you to initiate the dream visit. It will not simply happen.”

“But I didn’t this last time,” I said, frowning.

“In that instance, it was initiated by the one who forged the link.” Seretis shifted, uneasy. “When did you visit Rhyzkahl’s dream?”

I had to think about that one. “Thursday night. Um, four nights ago. I’m not sure of the time. Late.”

Seretis dropped to one knee and placed his hands flat on the nexus, closed his eyes. I resumed my seat on the quilt and mulled over the implications of everything he’d revealed. Someone hooked up a dream link to Rhyzkahl where I held the reins. Which meant that Someone had a secret agenda. And I doubted it was simply because Rhyzkahl needed to be socked in the face.