Mark of the Demon

by Diana Rowland

  I blinked at him. “Huh? Why?”

  “A syraza or reyza would have been able to sense my touch on you and would have known that you are not for any other to affect.”

  I stared at him. “Wait. What? You’ve branded me or something?”

  He brushed his fingers across my hair. “You are mine, Kara. I will not tolerate another molesting you.”

  “What?” I screeched. “Yours? Only you can molest me?”

  But the room was empty.

  The door slammed open and Ryan stood framed in the doorway. “Kara! What’s wrong?”

  I yelped and crossed my arms over my chest, blinking at him stupidly. “Um … am I awake?”

  Ryan looked at me oddly. “You yelled something unintelligible, so I came in to see what was wrong. So, tell me, what’s wrong?”

  I had to have been asleep if Rhyzkahl had been here. I glanced down and breathed a deep sigh of relief, lowering my arms. I was still wearing my shirt. “Nothing. It was just a dream.” Just a dream. Ha. Stop being stupid, I berated myself. Stop finding things to like about him.

  I could see him tense. “What kind of dream? Was it a demon dream?”

  I ran my fingers through my hair. “It was a Demonic Lord dream, yeah.” Then I froze, arm still raised. “What the hell?”

  He stepped into the room. “What is it?”

  I flexed my arm, then rolled my shoulder, reaching up with my other hand to feel the bandage.

  “What is it?” he repeated, tone growing urgent.

  I peeled the bandage off and felt the skin beneath it. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “Your shoulder? You need to be careful of it. It still needs to heal.”

  I shifted so that he could see my shoulder. “No, it doesn’t. It’s already healed. There’s not even a scar.”

  “Let me see,” he ordered. I twisted around to show him the unmarred skin of my shoulder. I could feel small pieces of thread and flakes of dried blood around where the wound had been—blood that I’d been too exhausted to completely clean off earlier. But there was most definitely no wound anymore. No wound, no scar, no stitches, no deviation in the flesh of any sort.

  He let out a low whistle. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never believe it.”

  “And I’m glad you’re a witness to it.” I flexed my arm again, still not fully believing it. “How long have I been asleep?”

  He glanced at his watch. “A few hours. I’d just dozed off on the couch when I heard you yell.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Do you always wake up yelling?”

  “No,” I said with a laugh, tossing a pillow at him. “But his lordiness also left me feeling fresh and rested.”

  He peered into my face. “You certainly don’t look as exhausted.”

  I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. “I’m not. At all. I feel like I’ve slept twelve hours.” Okay, so maybe there were some advantages to these dream visits.

  Ryan yawned. “Yeah, well, I don’t. I’m gonna dig out and head back to my hotel room and hope that Garner doesn’t snore too loudly.”

  I gave him a withering look. “Don’t be an idiot. I have a guest room that no one ever stays in. In fact, you will probably be the first guest to ever stay there.”

  “Cool,” he said, eyes crinkling. “My whining was suitably pathetic. I’ll be more than happy to christen your guest room.”

  I laughed. “Go. Next door down the hall. It’s the one with the bed in it. If you get to the room with the bathtub, you’ve gone too far.”

  He flashed me a grin and left. My own smile faded as he continued on down the hall and my left hand crept up to feel the unblemished skin on my shoulder.

  What was this going to cost me? Rhyzkahl’s comments about marking me as his own haunted me.

  Or had I already paid the price?

  THE HOUSE SEEMED UNBEARABLY QUIET AFTER RYAN went off to get some sleep. And after standing in the foyer for several minutes, I realized that it seemed so because, up until that point, everything had been going so quickly. I finally had a chance to breathe, but at the same time I knew that I really didn’t have the luxury of time to relax. The Symbol Man was still out there, and so far I’d failed utterly to find any of the people who were next on his list.

  Except the one girl, Belle, and that had not exactly gone well. The persistent sick knot in my stomach warned me how she’d probably be found.

  It was early afternoon, which meant I had at least five more hours of daylight. After the experience with the demon, I wasn’t too keen on going out without backup, and Ryan would most likely sleep for at least several hours.

  But there was plenty that I could do without backup. I went and took a quick shower, scrubbing the last of the dried blood off the nonexistent wound on my shoulder, then dressed in jeans and a 16th Annual Law Enforcement Torch Run T-shirt, looping my holster through my belt. I jotted a quick note to Ryan, telling him where I was going and to call me when he woke up, then I gathered up the copies of the pictures of the victims-to-be and headed to the station.

  I spent the next several hours making more copies of the pics and then passing them out to the patrol guys, giving them a brief rundown of why I needed to get in touch with these people.

  “I recognize a couple of these faces,” one of the officers coming on duty said, shuffling through the pics. “But I couldn’t tell you their real names.”

  “Have you ever arrested any of them?” I asked eagerly.

  He shrugged. “Might have. But I’m not sure when or where.”

  But that gave me an idea. I thanked the officer and then called Detective Harris.

  “Harris here,” he answered on the second ring.

  “Harris, it’s Kara Gillian. If I send you a composite of the pics from Cerise’s house, do you think you could pass them out to the deputies over there to see if any of your guys recognize anyone?”

  He was silent for a moment, then, “That’s a damn good idea, Gillian,” he said, to my intense shock. “Use the troops. Definitely. Send them over.”

  I hung up the phone, bemused, then quickly emailed the collection of pics over to Harris. Finally, it felt like I was doing something. I spent about an hour typing up some notes, then shut down my computer to head back home. Ryan would probably be awake soon, and then the two of us could continue canvassing for these people.

  My phone rang just as I was locking the door to my office. “Detective Gillian,” I said.

  “Hey, Detective Gillian, this is Deputy Keller with the sheriff’s office. I think we found one of your people.”

  “Wow, that was fast! Where are you? Which one?”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not so great, really. We’re out on Highway 1790.”

  Highway 1790 was a long, empty stretch through the swamp at the north end of the parish. The sick knot in my stomach tightened. “Shit. Don’t tell me.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, she’s dead. Sorry.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  I SENT A text message to Ryan and pulled up at the scene about half an hour later, just as dusk was beginning to paint the sky in shades of purple and orange. Detective James Harris was already on the scene—which I’d expected since the body was found within his jurisdiction. But I was somewhat surprised to see Agent Zack Garner there as well, standing by his car and talking on his cell phone.

  He hung up as I approached. “Ryan’s on his way. He and I were grabbing dinner when he got your text, and he said he’d meet us here.”

  I caught myself in time before saying something like, Oh, I figured he’d still be asleep. That would be a sure way to give people the wrong impression.

  “We’ve been discussing the case most of the afternoon,” Zack continued, absently waving a mosquito away from his face.

  He must not have slept long at all, I decided. But it was probably better that he not spend too much time at my house. “Come up with anything new and interesting?” I asked.


  He shook his head. “He just filled me in on what happened to you two this morning.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty wild,” I said, keeping my response vague since I had no idea what Ryan had told him. Which story did he give him—the demon attack, or the one we told everyone else?

  Zack’s eyes met mine. “He told me what really happened,” he clarified. The flashing red and blue lights of the patrol units reflected oddly in his eyes, making them seem for an instant as if they had a reddish cast of their own. Then he smiled and the effect was gone. “Sounds dumb, but I sure wish I’d been there to see it for myself.”

  “Not dumb at all,” I said, but my gaze slid to Harris. He was deep in conversation with some of the detectives from his own department. “Does he … ?”

  Zack snorted. “No. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it with his own eyes. He’d find some way to explain it.”

  “That sounds about right,” I said, relieved that Harris had not also been privy to the real story. I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t have any worries about Zack knowing the truth. I just somehow knew that he got it.

  “And here comes our prodigal son,” Zack said, looking beyond me. I turned to see a dark Crown Victoria pulling to the side of the highway behind my Taurus.

  Ryan exited his car and walked up to us. I noticed that he’d found the time to shower, shave, and change clothes and still managed to look fairly rested. He gave a nod to Zack, then looked at me, expression sober. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”

  “I do too,” I replied, though bad feeling was putting it mildly.

  This stretch of highway didn’t have much in the way of landmarks. A long, boring stretch of asphalt with swamp on either side, it was where people went when they wanted to see just how fast their cars would go. The only thing people had to watch out for was the occasional wild boar or alligator in the road. At least once a month, deputies were dispatched to a single-car accident along this stretch. A collision with wildlife at ninety miles an hour usually had pretty drastic consequences.

  I approached the body, surprised that it had even been noticed. Probably more than one car had passed the bloody lump on the side of the road and assumed it to be an animal that had lost its battle with a vehicle. My throat tightened as I got closer. Her death would have likely been far more pleasant if she’d merely been hit by a car. The coppery smell of blood mingled sickeningly with the dank stench of stagnant water and composting vegetation from the nearby swamp.

  It was definitely Belle, the girl in the picture—ugly gashes marred the young cheeks beneath the slanted eyes, piercings in her brow and lip still in place. The body flowed and flickered with arcane markings and, unlike the last body, I could easily read these runes. I stood a few feet away, eyes narrowed and fists clenched.

  “What do they say?” Ryan asked softly from beside me.

  “Taunts and threats,” I said, voice tight. “Some indication of what was done to her, runes of suffering and torment.” And a glyph that included my own name wound through the others, but I wasn’t sure I was going to share that with Ryan. The killer knew I was a summoner, and now he was telling me that it didn’t matter, that I wasn’t strong enough to stop him.

  “He’s baiting you,” Zack murmured.

  I glanced sharply at him, unaware that he’d been standing right behind us. But then I realized that Ryan had probably brought him completely up to speed, including all of the arcane aspects. “He’s an asshole,” I growled in reply, then crouched by the body, ignoring the buzz and bite of mosquitoes. I noticed immediately that the injuries were markedly different from those of the other victims. Cruder, more savage. No precise slices or burns. Instead, she’d been nearly ripped apart. My stomach clenched as I took in the parallel slices across the girl’s torso that had disemboweled her. I recognized them easily as claw marks, but I wondered what Dr. Lanza would make of them. The symbol had been slashed messily into her thigh, like an afterthought.

  “They didn’t take their time with this one,” I said, voice hoarse. “This was a slaughter.”

  Ryan growled something under his breath, and I didn’t need to hear the words to be able to agree with the meaning. I shuddered, then narrowed my eyes at the tracks and impressions in the dirt that surrounded the body. “The demon brought her here.” I stood. “See those tracks?” I pointed out the deep indentations in the ground. “It landed there and then pushed off again to take flight, just dumping her body here.” But then I looked more closely at the tracks, bothered.

  “What is it?” Zack asked.

  “It… doesn’t make sense,” I said. The tracks were clear—most certainly not made by any manner of human. “A kehza wouldn’t be strong enough to fly all the way here with a burden like a body. Hell, they’re barely strong enough to fly at all. They can only do short flights.”

  “Like when it was swooping down at us?” Ryan asked with a scowl.

  “Exactly. So there’s just no way it could have flown here to dump the body.”

  Ryan glanced around to make sure no one else was close enough to overhear our conversation. Fortunately, Harris was still pontificating to his own people. “And I guess it’s pretty silly to think that the killer drove the demon and his victim to someplace close, just so that it could fly over and deposit the body.”

  “Right. It doesn’t make any sense. And the timing doesn’t work either. We were at the diner barely fifteen minutes after Belle called. Even if she’d already been brought out here, there’s no way that the kehza could have flown back to town in time to attack us. And it couldn’t have killed her and dumped her afterward, because it had been sent back to its own plane.” I cursed softly. “That must mean that there’s a second demon, a higher-level demon—probably a syraza or a reyza. Either of those would be more than strong enough to snatch her from that street and fly her all the way out here to kill her. The kehza was just there to find out more about me.”

  “And using that syraza or reyza gives the killer an alibi,” Zack pointed out. “If he lets the demon snatch his victims and take care of the bodies, he can be anywhere else.”

  That was an unpleasant thought.

  “How could he have sent the kehza after you and also had this other demon to take care of this body? I thought you said that it was almost impossible to summon and hold two demons?” Ryan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “I did. It is. Crap. There must be another explanation.” There was one, but it was one that deepened the feeling of dread within me.

  “I don’t like the look on your face, Detective,” Ryan said.

  “Damn. It’s possible—possible—that he has formally allied with the higher-level demon, which would mean it wouldn’t require the same level of effort to summon.”

  Kind of like what you could have with Rhyzkahl, the thought crept in. But, no, this was different. This was an indication of a degree of cooperation that was rarely seen between summoners and the beings they summoned. The thought of a demon and a summoner working together to summon and control a Demonic Lord spoke of conflicts that ranged far beyond this sphere. In fact, having a higher demon as an ally would probably be the only way a summoner could ever hope to succeed in summoning and binding a Demonic Lord.

  “Okay, this is starting to feel really, really bad,” I said, as I stepped away from the body.

  “Care to share?” Ryan said. “I mean, besides the obvious stuff that even I can figure out.”

  Harris chose that moment to wonder what the three of us were up to. He huffed up to us, shirt straining.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Zack murmured. “Ryan can fill me in later.”

  I gave him a look of relief as he neatly intercepted Harris and deftly guided him away from us. I could hear him asking the rotund detective about the traffic that usually traveled the highway and then could hear Harris eagerly launching into a story about drug trafficking and bike gangs.

  Damn. Talk about taking one for the team! I motioned with my h
ead for Ryan to follow, walking well away from the others to a point near where the ground turned soft and the swamp began. “If he’s allied with a demon,” I said, speaking low and quickly, “it’s almost definitely a syraza or a reyza—eleventh- or twelfth-level demons—since the lowers don’t have enough control or power to be capable of a worthwhile alliance. And the only reason one would ally with a human, even a summoner, would be if it was worth his while. If he was going to get something out of it.” I frowned and stuffed my hands down into my pockets. “In every summoning, a summoner has to give the summoned creature something in return. It’s totally a power struggle, and the creature is bound, but only a small portion of that binding is arcane in nature. It’s all about the honor. During the summoning, after the initial binding, the summoner offers the demon something that would be considered valuable to the demon—enough to satisfy their bruised honor—and what it is depends on the demon.”

  “What sort of something are we talking about?”

  “Like I said, it depends on the demon. Some of the smaller ones like chocolate or beer. Others like books. Some want information. Others merely want the summoner to spill his or her blood to show their commitment to the summoning. It depends on the demon.”

  “Okay,” Ryan drawled. “And what could our Symbol Man have offered this demon in exchange for his help?”

  I dragged a hand through my hair. “Power, of some sort. Certainly not here in this sphere, because that would be worthless to a demon below the level of a lord, but most likely a chance at power in the sphere of the demons.”

  “Ah. Sort of like the Klingon method of promotion.”

  I stared at him blankly. “The what?”

  Ryan’s eyes went wide. “You can’t be serious. As over the edge as you are, you don’t watch Star Trek?”

  I scowled. “I’m not over the edge, and I do so watch Star Trek. Did. A couple of times.”

  Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically. “And here I thought you were my perfect match.” He grinned at me while I struggled for a response. “The Klingon method of promotion,” he continued, “is where you kill your superior to get their job.”