Mark of the Demon

by Diana Rowland

  “No shit! But I was going to add that I also got the impression of a male.”

  “Hmm … But that doesn’t mean he’s the killer.”

  “Sure, but that’s some pretty damning evidence.” I shrugged. “I mean, if any of this were admissible in court.”

  Tessa made a low noise in her throat. “They.”

  It took a second for my aunt’s comment to register. “Wait, there’s more than one?”

  “Yep. At least, there are two different sources on this body.” She sighed. “But I can’t really tell anything about the second one. Can’t even tell gender or species.”

  “Species?” I said, startled. The dark shape of my aunt’s head turned toward me.

  “Yes, dearie. Not necessarily human.”

  I groaned. “Aw, crap. So this guy could be teaming up with a demon?”

  “You weren’t listening,” she chided. “I said I couldn’t tell. It could still be a human, it could be a demon. It could be a squid person from Mars.”

  I snorted softly and smiled. “Of course, Auntie Dearest.”

  “Oh, please,” she groaned. “Enough of that. Now gimme some light, Darling Niece.”

  I flicked the flashlight on again, only to have Tessa pluck it from my fingers and shine it directly on the symbol on the man’s lower abdomen. She stared at it, mumbling softly under her breath, then finally sighed and shook her head. “I can’t figure that thing out at all.” She handed the light back to me. “We’ll have to ask one of the demonic ilk for advice on that one. I wish we knew how you muffed up the Rysehl summoning.”

  My jaw tightened. “I didn’t muff it up.”

  She winced. “Sorry, that came out harsher than I meant. But something went wrong, and I’d be a lot happier if I knew what it was.” She smiled and patted my cheek. “Don’t worry, sweetie, we’ll figure it out.”

  I zipped up the bag, then pulled a fresh zip tie out of my pocket and resealed the bag. “Fine. Whatever. Let’s go.”

  We left the cooler and I relocked it, but Tessa paused before following me out of the morgue. “I’m not your enemy here, Kara. I know I’ve screwed up in the past, but I’m really trying here.”

  My shoulders slumped. I was being a jerk and letting my own stress spill onto her. “You haven’t screwed up.”

  She shook her head. “You and I both know that’s not true. That month while I dithered in Japan and left you in that awful foster home—”

  “You made that right,” I cut in, voice a bit rough. I looked at her, seeing the guilt on her face again. “Aunt Tessa, that’s in the past. You … did the right thing. You made it right,” I repeated.

  She exhaled, nodded. “Well, I should have made sure you had more friends in high school. Made you get out more—”

  “Okay, are we just going to stand here and flail around in guilt all night long?” I gave her a mock glare. “Because if that’s really your plan, I’d like to do it someplace that doesn’t stink so damn much.”

  She laughed and gave me a quick, bony hug. “Impudent little bitch. I don’t know why I bother with you at all.”

  “I don’t either, but you’re fucking stuck with me.” I gave her a squeeze, then released her. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  THE NEXT SEVERAL DAYS WERE SPENT DOING THE MOST exciting police work I ever thought I would be involved with.

  Not.

  I sighed and popped another VHS tape into the VCR and settled back onto my bed, hitting the play button on the remote. They never showed this stuff on TV, the endless hours of searching through surveillance video on the mere hope that maybe possibly hopefully some glimpse of something that might occasionally point the investigator to a lead could be found. The day after breaking into the morgue with Tessa, I’d gone to every business and convenience store and gas station within a mile of either crime scene and collected surveillance videos for the times between sundown and a few hours after the bodies were discovered.

  Then I’d brought the box of videotapes home, settled in, and watched. And watched. Watched until my eyes crossed, searching for anything that could help, any consistencies between the time frames surrounding the two murders. Hoping to see someone walk into one of the gas stations wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed, I AM THE SYMBOL MAN!

  I scrubbed at my eyes. I’d been at this for nearly a week. I’d seen seventeen instances of shoplifting, four instances of employee theft, nine drug deals, twenty-one gas drive-offs, and one instance of a couple having sex by the beer cooler, but nothing at all that leaped out as being relevant to the murders.

  I finally turned off the TV and flopped back onto my pillows, looking up at the shifting shadows cast by the waning moon filtering through the trees. I hated to think that these murders were unsolvable. This killer had to have slipped up somewhere, left some clue. Or maybe he had, and I was just missing it? With zero leads, I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to keep working this case exclusively forever. I was spinning my wheels chasing down nebulous possibilities, while others were picking up the slack with my other cases—the assaults and robberies that continued despite the Symbol Man. Beaulac’s police force wasn’t large enough to have detectives dedicated solely to homicides, and I knew that there was resentment simmering among other detectives about the shift in caseload. Boudreaux and Pellini had made it crystal clear that they weren’t content with the fact that I’d snagged a primo case.

  I sighed and pushed the pillow into a more comfortable position. Of course, I still had the arcane angle to pursue. But I’d feel a lot more comfortable performing another summoning if I had even the slightest idea of what had gone wrong with the Rysehl summoning. “I screwed up,” I said aloud, hating the sound of it. It still felt terribly jarring. I wasn’t an anal perfectionist, and I’d certainly made mistakes in summonings in the past, but I’d always known what the mistake was. What if I summoned again and accidentally pulled another powerful creature through—one who was perfectly fine with killing me in spectacular fashion instead of merely fucking my brains out?

  I smiled wryly. Yeah, I’d definitely gotten off light, though the question of why Rhyzkahl had chosen to seduce me instead of kill me would probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

  And I’ve angsted over my choice to sleep with him long enough, I decided firmly. Yeah, so I had no love life. Okay, so I’d had the equivalent of a one-night stand. It was over and in the past, and at least the sex had been pretty damn worth it.

  With that small aspect of my psyche dealt with, I punched my pillow into a more comfortable position and settled in to sleep.

  I WOKE TO a soft sound—a scrape of a shoe on the floor, or the brush of clothing against a piece of furniture. I was instantly wide awake but I didn’t move, kept my breathing as regular as possible, though I could feel my heart slamming in my chest. My gun is in the nightstand drawer, I reminded myself, breathing shallowly and listening for a repetition of the sound that had woken me.

  Nothing. Just the sounds of the night, the muted rush of the air conditioner, a faraway car passing on the highway. I waited and listened, counting silently to fifty before reaching out slowly and pulling the drawer open. My disquiet eased tremendously as soon as my hand curled around the rough butt of the gun, and I flicked on the bedside light with one hand while pointing the gun at the foot of the bed.

  Rhyzkahl stood at the foot of my bed, still as carved marble and emanating the power and strength that I remembered so vividly from that night a week ago. The ivory fall of his hair rippled in an unfelt wind, and his beautiful eyes bored into mine. He wore robes of pale silk, and a sensuous smile curved his lips.

  I stared at him in shock as a frisson of sudden terror coursed through me. He’s here. How is he here? My thoughts careened wildly as I kept the gun pointed at him. It’s not even a full moon. How the fuck can he be here?

  He finally spoke.

  “You have not called me.”

  I blinked, disoriented for a heartbeat as I remembered vague snatches from th
e dream I’d had at my desk. “Wh-what? Call you? What are you talking about?”

  He moved for the first time, shifting with inhuman grace to sit on the bed beside me. “You have not called me.” His smile turned dazzling.

  I looked at the gun in my hand, then slowly lowered it. It wouldn’t do me any good against a Demonic Lord anyway. Shit. I have a Demonic Lord in my bedroom! “You said that already.” I swept a glance throughout the room in a vain hope that I would see something that could explain his presence here. “How can you be here? What the fuck is going on?”

  He reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “I wished to see you,” he said. “You interest me.”

  “So, what—you just popped over to this sphere to look me up?” My voice was a bit shriller than I would have liked, but I figured I was entitled to a small amount of freak-out after waking up to a Demonic Lord in my bedroom.

  He laughed, a sound like crystal in water. It delighted me and at the same time sent shivers through me. “Not so simple as that.” His fingers lingered on my chin, brushing my lips ever so lightly. “I am not truly here. I am merely touching your dreams.”

  “My … dreams.” I couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not.

  “It is not an easy feat, even for one such as myself.”

  I regarded him with narrowed eyes, initial shock and terror giving way to confusion and distrust. “So why are you doing it?”

  He tilted his head, a smile playing on his angelic face. “You are not pleased to see me again? You did not enjoy our … tryst?”

  I had to privately admit that there was a small portion of me that was pleased to see him again. Even knowing what he was now, I couldn’t deny that he was awfully damn good to look at, and I sure as shit couldn’t deny that our “tryst” had been awfully damn nice. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said instead.

  He gave a slight nod. “As I said: You interest me. I have not encountered another like you in centuries. And the brief time we had together was … enjoyable.” Without warning, he slid his hand to the back of my neck and leaned in to kiss me. I didn’t stiffen or resist—I was too surprised to do either, and by the time it occurred to me that I should make some sort of reaction, he had deepened it into a sensuous kiss that promised pleasure and heat and pulse-throbbing passion. After a moment, he released me and pulled back, regarding me with a smile.

  “Well, damn,” I breathed shakily. It was sorely tempting to grab him and pull him back for more, but the memory of Tessa’s warning about his nature stayed me. Why is he doing this? There’s just no way he’s this smitten with me. “I, uh … am flattered to know I have that sort of effect on you.” I took a steadying breath. “But please don’t do that again.”

  He lifted a silky eyebrow. “You have regrets?”

  “I … don’t know,” I said honestly, relaxing a bit now that I knew he wasn’t really in the room with me. I grimaced and pushed my hair back from my face. “The thing is, I don’t usually do that sort of thing. I mean, the casual-sex thing.” I met his eyes. “And if not for the fact that you gave me your word, I’d be worrying that you had somehow compelled me.”

  His expression hardened ever so briefly. “I did not break my word. The choice you made was your own.”

  I nodded. “I know, and I’m glad that you let me make that choice.”

  He stood and folded his arms across his chest, looking down at me. “I wish for you to trust me.”

  “I don’t even know you,” I said with a touch of asperity. “And you’re a Demonic Lord. Why do you care if I trust you?”

  “Why do you deliberately avoid and evade companionship?” he countered. “We shared a potent pleasure, you and I. I gave you my word that I would not harm you or compel you. You ache for something that I would gladly give you. Why do you deny yourself?”

  He was getting way too close to psychoanalysis territory for my liking. I scowled. “It’s not just about the sex, y’know.”

  “You desire a partner—one with whom you can share your hopes, dreams, desires, and fears. Someone with whom you can face the trials of existence and make plans for the future.”

  I stared at him in surprise. Wow. He got it.

  “I cannot be that person for you,” he continued before I could speak. “But would you deny yourself the single course placed before you simply because you cannot have the entire banquet?”

  He sure did know how to present a convincing argument. But doubt still nagged at me. “Okay, well … I’m gonna run with your metaphor here and say that if I have nothing but dessert I’m going to be too sick to enjoy a banquet if it ever comes my way.”

  He laughed and sat beside me on the bed again. “You are as clever as you are strong. It is no wonder I desire more of you.” He reached a hand toward me and then paused, not yet touching me. His eyes met mine. “May I?”

  That simple request sent an erotic rush through me that nearly knocked me over. He’s unspeakably powerful, yet he respects my boundaries…. Or at least he can put on a good show of it, my inner cynic pointed out.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked, somewhat breathlessly.

  “Touch you. That’s all. May I?”

  “Yes.” I managed to choke the word out, pulse suddenly throbbing.

  He reached to my breast and caressed lightly through my nightshirt, circling the nipple casually. Heat flooded me, and I had absolutely no fear that it was due to any compulsion from him. This was 100 percent my own reaction.

  A smile lit his blue eyes, then he took hold of my nipple and squeezed lightly, releasing it at my intake of breath and returning to a slow and incredibly sensuous caress.

  “This is really all a dream?” I said with a shaky grin.

  His laugh was crystalline beauty, sharp and bright. “Truly, it is.”

  “But … I’m not just dreaming about you being here. I mean, you came into my dream, like, um … a telepathy sort of thing, right?” The inexorable movement of his hand was making it tough for me to think.

  He inclined his head slightly. “That is a reasonable analogy.”

  I took an unsteady breath. “Look, even though this isn’t … um … real, I’m not sure I want to sleep with you again.”

  “I respect that,” he said gravely. “Yet I would still freely give you pleasure if you would accept it.”

  Just a dream. Safe. I swallowed, pulse galloping in an incredible combination of anticipation and apprehension. “Why? I mean, don’t get me wrong … but what are you getting out of this?”

  He was silent for several heartbeats, a brief expression of sadness skimming across his face almost too quickly for me to register it. But when he lifted his eyes back to mine, there was only the deep and potent power in them. “I enjoy your company. I wish for you to trust me.”

  Is he lonely? I wondered suddenly. Did Demonic Lords experience feelings of isolation? Okay, that’s just crazy. But he was watching me intently, and I found myself giving him a nod of permission.

  He placed his hand in the center of my chest and gently pushed me to my back. He kept me pinned down lightly, and I knew he could feel the mad pounding of my heart beneath his hand. He slid his hand between my legs and began to slowly caress me. “There is much pleasure I can give you,” he said, voice like silk. “You are safe with me.” He slid a finger inside me, slowly working me with an expert touch. I dropped my head back, breathing unsteadily.

  “Daaaamn.” There was no denying that he was good at this. He’d probably had centuries of experience. I groaned and clenched my hands in the sheets. “Holy shit … do you do this often?” I said with an unsteady laugh.

  He didn’t answer, merely smiled and continued to work his fingers. He kept his other hand between my breasts, giving me just the lightest suggestion of being held down, without making me feel trapped or threatened. My climax began to build and I moaned, squeezing my eyes closed, insanely aroused. He expertly toyed with me, bringing me repeatedly to the point of climax, then slowing
and allowing it to retreat until I was nearly screaming in frustration.

  He brought me to the peak again when I was near mindless from wanting it, then abruptly stopped, fingers stilling within me as I throbbed and pulsed in need.

  “This is not the only gift I could grant you.” His voice was soft but intense.

  I let out a low whimper. I could feel the orgasm, see it just barely out of reach. All he had to do was flick his fingers that way.

  I took a ragged breath. “Please … What do you want from me?”

  “Call me, Kara.” He moved his hand, skillfully bringing me to my climax, working me perfectly as I cried out and arched my back in release, keeping me at the peak longer than I could have ever imagined possible.

  I gasped unevenly as he finally slowed and gently withdrew his fingers. I opened my eyes and focused on him, with effort. He was watching me carefully, an unreadable expression quickly shifting to a brilliant smile as he met my eyes. He straightened. “Call me to you. I can give you so much more.”

  THE ALARM CLOCK shrilled, sending me fighting through the tangled sheets in shock. It took nearly half a minute of the familiar sound penetrating through the fog that filled my brain before I realized that Rhyzkahl was no longer in the room. I slammed my hand down on the alarm clock to silence it, still feeling the shimmering echoes of the orgasm. Light filtered through the blinds, but I fumbled the nightstand light on as well and looked carefully around the room.

  He was most assuredly not there anymore. And a continued inspection of the room confirmed that my gun was still in its usual spot in my nightstand.

  “That was … unexpected,” I murmured, frowning. So he could touch my dreams? I threw off the covers and stood, feeling a ridiculous urge to run through the house and turn each and every light on, unable to shake the lingering sense of disquiet. I didn’t feel tired, so whatever he’d done hadn’t robbed me of any sleep. In fact, I felt quite rested.