Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) (30 page)

Seretis lifted his head. “There are echoes of Szerain here.”

I yanked my wandering thoughts back into place. “Szerain used the nexus on Thursday around midday. He was looking for someone or something that had him scared shitless.” I peered at Seretis. “You have any clue on that?”

His mouth pulled into a frown of concentration. “More recent activity distorts Szerain’s residuals.” He adjusted the position of his hands as if fine-tuning his reception.

“Damn,” I said. “Must be from Idris. He uses the nexus a lot. Or Pellini.”

Seretis remained in deep concentration. “Not Idris or Vincent Pellini,” he murmured as he continued to assess. “Demahnk.”

“Szerain took Zack away on Friday,” I said, puzzled. “I guess he might have come back here and—”

“Not Zakaar,” Seretis said, face ashen. “
Xharbek
.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Xharbek, Szerain’s ptarl, so deep in hiding that even the other demahnk didn’t know his whereabouts. “He’s on
Earth?
” I asked. “That’s good, right? Szerain needs stability.”

“Szerain used the nexus to seek Xharbek.” Seretis lifted his hands and rubbed them together as though washing them. “Not long after, Xharbek used it to seek Szerain.”

The implication crashed through me. “Szerain said that when I disrupted his ritual, it was like sending up a beacon.” I gulped. “He was scared shitless. Of
Xharbek
.” Szerain was free of his prison, and Xharbek probably wanted to rectify that.

Seretis sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut as agony contorted his features. Bryce let out a curse and shot me a look of frustration and impotent rage that I understood too damn well. We both knew what this was: One of the knifing headaches the lords got when their thoughts strayed into forbidden territory. So, was it anathema to think there might be reason to fear any of the demahnk? It sure as hell fit with my developing theory that the demahnk—a.k.a. the Demahnk Council—were the ones doing the controlling.

Seretis cried out and clutched his head. Bryce put a hand on Seretis’s shoulder, helpless to do more to ease him. An idea for a distraction blinked on in my head, and I surged to my feet. “Sammy!” I shouted, hoping the goofy dog was within earshot. “Sammy! Here, boy!”

To my relief, frantic barks sounded from within the house. “Jill, let him out!” I yelled. Seconds later the back door flew open, and Sammy streaked toward us. He bounded onto the slab then bowled Seretis over in a flurry of enthusiastic face licking and tail wagging. Bryce received a solid tail thwack to the side of the head before he could scramble up and out of the way. Cringing, I watched in trepidation. “Slobber-trampled to death” as a headache cure wasn’t quite how I’d envisioned this going, but my concern eased as a laugh burst from Seretis.

The lord rolled into a fetal position and protected his face with his forearms, still laughing and making inarticulate noises of mock-distress. Bryce grinned at me and gave me two thumbs up. I managed a weak smile in response. That could have ended in disaster.
Gee, Mzatal, sorry but Seretis can’t come help y’all with your world falling apart. You see, a dog jumped on him and cracked his skull on the nexus.

Seretis disentangled enough from Happy Dog to sit up. I crouched beside them and scratched Sammy’s ears. “You’re the best dog ever,” I told him. Sammy responded with a big, wet slurp across my face then plopped down next to Seretis and rolled to his back in a clear bid for a belly rub. Seretis obliged with a smile, but after a moment it dissolved.

“It was Xharbek. He used the nexus to set the dream link.”

I goggled at that revelation. “Why would a demahnk—a hidden one at that—make a dream link from me to that asshole?”

Seretis pressed his mouth tight. “None can guess the ways of a demahnk.”

Translation:
I’m avoiding headache punishment
. My ire flared at the whole situation, but I tamped it down in the face of more urgent considerations.

“Seretis, you said Rhyzkahl can’t hurt me in the dream space because I’m the initiator,” I said. “Does that mean it’s
safe
for me to initiate a visit?”

“He cannot entrap you or harm you physically. However, he can hear and remember your words. Say nothing you do not wish him to know.”

“Right. Got it.” I engaged in furious thinking. “How many humans are in the demon realm against their will?”

His eyes shadowed. “I only know of six who abide with qaztahl. All brought in by Rhyzkahl this past year.”

“
Which
qaztahl?” The eleven lords spanned a vast range of temperaments, from gentle Elofir at one end to vicious Amkir at the other.

“One woman is with Vrizaar, another with Jesral. Two are with Rhyzkahl. Amkir holds one man and one woman.” He paused. “Kadir had two men. But they are dead.”

A shiver went through me. Kadir relished hunting human quarry.

“It is the mandate of the Council that only humans deserving of punishment by the standards of Earth may be hunted,” Seretis said in response to my thoughts.

“You’re telling me the demahnk are okay with Kadir’s brand of torment?”

“They do not interfere if he abides by the parameters set.”

I rubbed my arms, chilled. They’d damn well better not judge Paul to be deserving of punishment. “The rest of the humans are alive?”

“The six captives live, as do the others.” His eyes met mine for a heartbeat before he looked down and away. “Michelle Cleland is with Elofir and any others with whom she chooses to spend time. Michael Moran dwells with Rayst and me, and is not unwilling.”

Michelle had been a Symbol Man “sacrifice” to Rhyzkahl, and Michael was a brain damaged young man with the ability to shape earth into golems. “I have no problem with the willing ones,” I said. “What aren’t you telling me?”

His expression grew haunted. “I have failed at negotiations to acquire any humans since coming to agreement with Amkir for Michael.” Bryce cursed under his breath and rested a hand on Seretis’s shoulder.

“That you tried at all means worlds to me,” I said gently. An ugly story lurked behind the confession, I was certain—especially since the brutal Amkir was involved.

Sammy started barking and bolted toward the woods. Seretis leaped to his feet. “An entity has passed through the valve.”

“Another demon?” My hand went to my gun as I scrambled up.

“I know not. The Earth flows are too weak for me to read.”

Whether it was a demon or an other-worldly mosquito, we needed to be the welcoming committee. I took off toward the path with Seretis and Bryce on my heels. Sammy barked in the woods ahead. “Sammy! Get your stupid ass back here!” I called out. To my surprise the dog bounded back in our direction, which I suspected had far more to do with a silent call from Seretis than my yelling. Bryce and I drew our weapons as we reached the woods and proceeded with caution.

Seretis cursed in demon behind me. “
Kadir
.”

Oh, shit,
I thought the instant before his aura slithered through me. Even without my arcane senses I felt as if I’d been dipped in cold slime filled with unnamed horrors. Mouth dry, I stumbled to a walk, hand tight on my gun as I moved forward. Didn’t matter that the gun would be next to useless against a lord. It made
me
feel better.

Kadir stalked along the trail, anger flowing from him like a noxious cloud. His face and clothing were scored with deep and angry burns, as if he’d been lashed by a whip made of napalm.

Swallowing hard, I lowered my gun and stood my ground. “Why are you here?” I asked.

“I am the one he seeks,” Seretis said. He stepped around me with the dog right beside him and took in Kadir’s condition. “Fire rain. In your realm?”

The pale lord bared his teeth. “With only Elofir and the demahnk to aid while you dally.”

I expected a snappy comeback from Seretis, but instead he hunched his shoulders like a chastised schoolboy. “Yaghir tahn,” he muttered.

I tensed in annoyance. Why was Seretis asking for forgiveness when Kadir was the one who needed the help? Ugh. I
hated
the dynamics between the lords. “Hey, lighten up, Blondie.” I lifted my chin. “Seretis came here by accident, not for vay-cay.”

Kadir’s regard zeroed in on me. Seretis placed his hand on my arm. “He speaks truth, Kara Gillian,” he said. “It was my choice to remain. No time for goodbyes now.” He gave my arm a squeeze then pulled away, strode past Kadir and down the trail with Sammy at his side. Bryce hesitated then jogged after Seretis. I didn’t begrudge his desire for a few more seconds with his friend. He and I both knew that if Kadir decided to do something unpleasant to me there wasn’t a damn thing either of us could do about it.

Kadir’s expression was a mix of anger, urgency, and strange curiosity as he closed the distance between us. “With or without intent, no qaztahl has the luxury of absence from the demon realm now,” he said in a vicious purr, though instead of “the demon realm” he used the hideously unpronounceable demon word for his world.

I offered him a bland smile. “Last I checked, you were a qaztahl. Better get your ass back.”

“You must barricade the valve so no others can pass,” he went on with clipped urgency as if I hadn’t spoken. “It
is
possible to alter a node for permanent passage. Not so for a valve. It is only a matter of time before it gives way with disastrous effect.”

“Can’t barricade
or
symmetrize your valves now, thanks to your flunky,” I said through clenched teeth.

With lightning speed, he gripped my hair near my scalp and dragged my face close to his, violet eyes locked on mine. I sucked in a breath and suppressed the instinct to struggle. He reeked of sulfur and singed hair.
Go on,
I thought at him with a mental snarl
. Assess.

He released me so abruptly I staggered a step before finding my balance. New rage smoldered in his eyes. “Katashi.” He spoke the name like a curse.

“That’s right.” I straightened and gave him a sneer. “Your dog is running around biting people, even the ones you don’t want bit.”

“You yet hold the knowledge of creating a barricade seal.
Find a way
.” He sprinted back toward the valve like a nightmarish gazelle to save his realm.

I followed at a jog, but by the time I reached the pond clearing he was gone. Bryce crouched by Sammy several feet from the end of the trail.

“What the hell was that all about?” I asked Bryce. Hopefully, his connection to Seretis could shed some light on the last few minutes of weirdness.

Bryce straightened, sighed. “The only lords who can tolerate the out-of-phaseness of Kadir’s realm for more than a few minutes are Elofir and Seretis.” He grimaced, scratched the back of his head. “They were able to control one anomaly without Seretis, but a second cropped up that brought fire rain. Kadir
needed
Seretis, and so he came for him.”

“Their world has turned into a nightmare!” I said, pairing my words with a hard kick at a rotten stump. “I don’t understand why the Mraztur continue to condone Katashi’s bullshit with the valves.”

Bryce pressed his lips together and spread his hands. “I got nuthin’.”

The rustle of brush and cracking twigs heralded Idris as he sprinted into the clearing. “What happened at the valve?” he asked as he slid to a stop, gaze sweeping the area.

“Kadir came through and took Seretis back,” I said. “There was an—” Idris cut me off with an explosive curse and ran for the valve. I stayed out of his way so that he could stabilize it.

Pellini came puffing into the clearing. Since Idris didn’t want or need us hanging out and watching him work, the three of us returned to the house. On the way back Bryce and I briefed Pellini on Kadir’s bizarre visit. By the time we made it to the kitchen, we had Pellini caught up on the discoveries at my aunt’s house and were well into the general state of affairs in the demon realm.

The buzz of the gate intercom halted any further conversation. Bryce peered at the screen on the security panel, and his expression went grave. “Kara, we have a problem.”

I looked over Bryce’s shoulder at the small display. A St. Long Parish Sheriff’s Office cruiser and a dark Chevy Impala idled in the driveway beyond the gate. Detective O’Connor stood by the intercom, looking very official in his sunglasses and starched dress shirt.

My stomach lurched. It was really happening. “Oh, well, so much for a restful evening!” I said, being flippant in an attempt to maintain a cool demeanor. Not that anyone bought my act, least of all me. I pressed the intercom button. “Hi, Detective, how can I help you today?”

O’Connor lifted the papers in his hand and glared into the camera. “Kara Gillian, I have a warrant for your arrest. If you refuse to come out and give yourself up, we’ll have no choice but to make entry by force.”

“I understand, Detective,” I said. An arrest warrant gave him legal right to make entry onto my property and into my house if necessary to make the arrest. Thankfully, the aversions discouraged him from coming through the gate to knock on my door with a sledgehammer. However, if I stalled, he was tough-willed enough to bull his way through the arcane barriers. That would spell disaster if he tripped any of the more dangerous protection wards, and I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. “I’ll be at the gate in less than five minutes.”

Protest formed on his face then faded. Good. I’d been agreeable enough that he lacked sufficient motivation to overcome the aversions. “Five minutes.”

I spun away from the display and jogged to my bedroom. Bryce followed and paused in the doorway. “What’s the plan?” he asked with a frown as I dug through my dresser drawers.

Well
, I thought
, first I’ll go throw up, and then I’ll curl up on the bathroom floor
. “Hiding or running would be pointless and bring heat down on everyone here,” I said instead. “My best move is to cooperate.” I pulled out a fluffy hooded sweatshirt and slipped it on over my tank top.

Bryce eyed me with bafflement as I fluffed my hair out from beneath the collar. “You do know it’s the middle of summer, right?”

“I sure do.” I stripped off my watch and emptied my pockets, then reluctantly pulled the damaged ring from my finger and placed it in my jewelry box. “Holding cells are damn cold. Bond won’t be set until tomorrow at the earliest, and I don’t want to freeze my ass off all night.”

Pellini joined Bryce in the doorway and gave a nod of agreement. “I know a lawyer who won’t ask a lot of questions. I’ll give him a call.”

“Thanks.” I blew out a breath then squared my shoulders. No sense putting this off any longer. Hell, maybe I could take a nap in jail. Yeah, right. “Now then, who wants to give me a ride to the gate?”

 • • • 

I had to hand it to Detective O’Connor. Though obviously frustrated by my refusal to divulge information relevant to his case, he never once crossed the line into asshole territory. I appreciated that, especially since I sympathized with his plight. He had a job to do and a murder to solve. I couldn’t fault him for his commitment to do everything in his power to accomplish that. I, of course, was committed to avoiding prison on Earth or exile in the demon realm.

The deputy with O’Connor was a blond woman with a no-nonsense expression and “Harper” on her nametag. She patted me down and handcuffed me with brisk efficiency. I tried not to think about the number of times I’d done the same to an arrestee—never
ever
thinking I’d one day be on the other side of it. Without a smile or unneeded word, she seatbelted me into the back seat of her car and transported me to the parish jail. I remained silent for the duration of the ride, not because I was stoic, but because I didn’t trust myself to speak. I’d convinced myself that I was mentally prepared for this, but the reality was a vicious kick in the gut, and I balanced on the razor edge of control. Ex-cop under arrest was humiliating enough, but ex-cop under arrest who burst into tears on the way to jail would be worse than everything else combined.

Deep breaths and careful control got me through the urge to dissolve into a sobbing meltdown. By the time Harper escorted me to the booking area at the jail I’d regained enough composure to endure being processed in—searched, fingerprinted, photographed, and at last placed in a holding cell.

Concrete benches ran the length of three walls. Near the door a metal toilet and sink were tucked into a shallow alcove that offered zero privacy. The cell was as overly air-conditioned as I’d expected, and I silently applauded my sweatshirt wisdom.

I settled on the bench to my right then took unobtrusive stock of the other five women in the cell and tried to guess what they’d been arrested for. Two in their late thirties or early forties lay curled up on my bench, either asleep or pretending to be. Theft or Issuing Worthless Checks. A girl dressed as if she’d spent the day at the lakefront sniffled on the bench against the back wall. Eighteen if she was a day. Underage Driving Under the Influence, I decided. Across from me, a haggard-faced woman stared at nothing with defeat in her eyes. Possession of a Controlled Substance—no-brainer there. And not far from her, a woman in her mid-twenties sat in a stiff and scowly posture that radiated anger. Aggravated Battery, hands down.

Then again, how was I to know? Maybe every single one of them had been arrested for creating human-animal hybrids. I doubted any of them looked at me and thought, “Homicide.”

I leaned my head back against the cinderblock wall, crossed my arms over my chest, closed my eyes, and settled in for a long and boring night. Voices rose and fell in the hallway, and a cart with a clattering wheel rolled past. A door shut with a heavy
clang
followed by a stream of curses. Sweat and piss lurked beneath the acrid tang of industrial cleaner, and above it all drifted the old-cabbage scent of low-quality cafeteria food.

“Hey, Princess!”

Tensing for a confrontation, I opened my eyes to find Angry Chick focused on the sniveling girl. “Stop your fucking whining before I stop it for you,” she snapped at Young Thing, which did nothing except make the poor girl cower and cry harder.

Angry Chick rose to her feet. Young Thing’s eyes widened in terror, and she let out a thin panicked wail.

“Leave her alone,” I said, using the same mild and even tone Bryce used in stress situations. “She’s probably never been arrested before. I bet you were scared the first time you got hooked.”

Angry Chick rounded on me with a teeth-baring snarl. “You trying to say I’m a habitual offender, bitch?”

So much for being reasonable. Fine. I could play it her way. “Well, you sure are familiar with the term ‘habitual offender.’”

Angry Chick let out a growl of rage and took a step toward me, fists clenched.

“That’s a bad idea,” I said.

She hesitated, no doubt trying to understand why her subconscious told her I was a potential threat when I looked like an easy mark. I continued to regard her steadily. I’d locked gazes with far more powerful creatures than this woman.

To my dismay, instead of backing down as I’d hoped, she narrowed her eyes. “I know you,” she said. Dread flickered in my gut at the hatred in her voice. “You’re a
cop.
”

Son of a bitch.
Adrenaline dumped into my system to send my pulse racing, and it took all the willpower I possessed to form a lazy smile.

“Not anymore,” I said. “I got a better offer.” With any luck her imagination would fill in lurid details. Enforcer for a cartel, or mercenary, or international spy.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t that creative. She sneered down her nose at me. “Doesn’t matter. Cop or ex-cop, I’ll beat you bloody before they pull me off you.”

If
they pulled her off me. The dread roared to life. Even if the guards on duty thought Farouche deserved what he got, I couldn’t depend on their support. Far likelier that they regarded me as nothing more than a cop gone bad who deserved whatever might happen. And right now the “whatever might happen” I faced topped me by several inches and outweighed me by at least thirty pounds.

Sweat rolled down my sides despite the chill. My mind raced in search of a tactic to avoid a nasty fight but kept circling back to one ploy.
Shit.

Heaving a deep sigh, I stood, nice and slowly, maintaining eye contact. When I spoke it was with a quiet and scary intensity that I’d learned from months of dealing with immortal beings of vast power.

“I’ve survived more pain, more
torture
than you could ever hope to dish out,” I said, stupidly pleased that I’d pitched my voice just right to resonate against the walls. With deliberate movements I pulled up my shirts to reveal my collection of scars. A whisper of horror flitted through her eyes. Sure, there were people who were into body modification through scarring, but a primal sense told her these scars were different.

Though my heart pounded like a marching band drumline, I lowered the sweatshirt and adjusted my clothing with steady hands. “Now then, you need to ask yourself if it’s worth trying to knock me down and punch me a few times when you
know
I’ll get Right. Back. Up.” I had no need to pygah to remain calm. Every word I spoke was the absolute truth.

Angry Chick knew it too. She retreated a step then put on the scowl of someone who knows they’ve been beaten but doesn’t want to look like a coward. “You ain’t worth my time,” she scoffed, but her words had no strength behind them. “Bitch, you lucky I don’t want more charges on me right now.”

“I am indeed very lucky,” I replied as I resumed my seat. I glanced over at the sniveling girl—who wasn’t sniveling anymore. She and the three others watched me with wide-eyed awe.

Angry Chick muttered under her breath but plopped back down onto her bench, no less angry than before, although cowed.

Good enough. With that settled, I closed my eyes and went to sleep.