Rhyzkahl remained still until she was a dozen feet away then held his hands out. I stopped and stared in shock as she threw her arms around him in a hug. He pulled her close, his shoulders relaxing as if she brought a fragment of peace with her.
What the actual fuck?
A heartbeat later, he took her hand and started to lead her to his house.
“Oh, hell no,” I announced as I hobbled forward. “You want to speak to her, you can do it out here.”
Janice gave me a startled look, but Rhyzkahl ignored me and continued walking.
Anger swept through me. Baring my teeth, I called up a strand of potency and slammed the house door before he could reach it. “I said no!”
Rhyzkahl turned then stepped between Janice and me. “Leave us.”
“Not a chance.” I gave him a tight smile. “Think of me as your chaperone. I’m not about to give you any opportunity to hurt her.” Beyond him, I saw Janice taking in her surroundings: the circle of trampled grass, the odd dimensions of the little house, the black slab at the center of it all. Her expression shifted to a scowl, and I could only assume she was pissed about the state of his prison. Great. I knew she wasn’t manipulated, but that didn’t rule out Stockholm Syndrome.
“Why did you bring her here?” Rhyzkahl demanded, anger coloring his words.
“She asked to see you,” I said, taking a small pleasure in the frustration that tightened his face. Thanks to the arcane constraints and my shielding, he couldn’t read me or her, which had to be driving him nuts.
Janice stepped forward. “Yes, I did. And would prefer to do so without a chaperone. Rhyzkahl won’t hurt me.”
“Yes, because the protections Mzatal set won’t allow him to. Physically, at least. But I don’t want him to say anything that’ll twist you up inside either.”
A muscle twitched in Rhyzkahl’s jaw. “I am caged. She is free. Do you choose to oppress her as well?”
“I’m not trying to oppress her!” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m trying to protect her from you, because I know what you’re capable of.”
Janice threw her hands up in the air. “I don’t need your protection.”
I cursed under my breath. “Look, Janice,” I said as calmly as I could manage, “I’m not the enemy here, though I’m sure it must seem that way. Traumatic experiences can really tangle loyalties. I know you’ve been through a lot of terrible shit, and I’m sorry any of it happened to you. I’m just doing my best to get everyone who was kidnapped and trafficked in the demon realm released and given whatever help they need to deal with what happened.”
Her mouth dropped open in a silent O, then she turned toward Rhyzkahl with a look I couldn’t interpret at all.
“Go,” he told her, curt and short. “Address this matter that we may be done with it.”
“Gladly,” she muttered then stalked toward me. “Let’s take this inside,” she said, passing me on her way to the house.
Gee, this day was turning out super extra peachy.
She rounded on me the instant I stepped into the kitchen. “What kind of messed up ‘prison’ is that?” She flung an arm in the direction of the back yard. “Murderers on death row have more room to move than he does! And where in heaven’s name did you get the idea I was some sort of sex slave? Just who do you think you are to be—”
“Sit down and shut up!” I roared, backing it with just a touch of potency.
She closed her mouth with a snap and flung herself into a chair, gaze murderous.
“Do you remember that young man with Lord Kadir?” I didn’t wait for an acknowledgement before storming on. “That’s Paul Ortiz. He was a gifted programmer and hacker, living in Albuquerque until the day that a businessman by the name of James Macklin Farouche had him kidnapped so that he could exploit Paul’s talents. Amber Palatino Galvan was a beautiful young woman who was kidnapped by Farouche’s people and then raped, tortured and murdered as part of a ritual meant to target me—one that was orchestrated by your boyfriend out there.” I let out a humorless bark of laughter. “We won’t even get into what he did to me. But as for J.M. Farouche, he had business competitors assassinated, and disloyal employees tortured and killed. A number of people besides yourself were kidnapped by his underlings and delivered to Rhyzkahl to be taken to the demon realm. But you’re right, I had no business whatsoever to try to free women who I truly believe are—at best—being held against their will and—at worst—trafficked as sex slaves.” I tossed my hands up. “What the hell was I thinking!”
Her defiance had drained away during my speech to the point that she now seemed cowed. I lowered myself into the chair across from her and eased my aching leg. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s been a shitty couple of months.”
She exhaled softly. “I was wrong to jump down your throat. Of course it would look like sex trafficking to an outside observer. Before I left Earth, I certainly thought that’s what I’d fallen into.”
“But you were kidnapped, right?”
She lifted her eyes to mine. “Yes, we were all kidnapped, but none of us are being held against our will, and we certainly aren’t being used as sex slaves.”
I shook my head in the vain hope it would help everything make sense. “Then why were y’all snatched?”
A faint smile touched her mouth. “The lords wanted . . . companions. Conversation. Human interaction. All of us who were brought to the demon realm are sharp cookies. Not a dummy among us.”
“Huh,” I said while I tried to rejigger my entire outlook. A piece clicked into place. Around a year ago or so, I’d questioned demonic lord Vahl about his relationship with Michelle Cleland, who Rhyzkahl had taken to the demon realm after the Symbol Man offered her as a sacrifice. Vahl had said the lords all missed humans, though some wouldn’t admit it. Michelle now lived quite happily with Elofir, and definitely wasn’t forced or manipulated. “Huh,” I said again then frowned. “Hang on. Seretis told me that the captives were being held against their will.”
Janice rolled her eyes. “Seretis doesn’t know anything. He’s not an ally of Rhyzkahl’s, so he was kept in the dark about the real deal.”
And was probably fed misinformation as well, I mused. Seretis had negotiated with Amkir to obtain Michael, fearing that the young man might be mistreated. Of course Amkir would encourage that assumption to get more out of the deal.
But I had a feeling Seretis had gained far more than he’d lost.
On the other hand, even though Janice hadn’t been manipulated, she might not have had full disclosure on the other abductees. She hadn’t mentioned the two men who Seretis reported as killed by Kadir. I couldn’t take her belief at face value until I confirmed it with Mzatal, or saw for myself.
“So you haven’t slept with Rhyzkahl?” I asked.
She chuckled low. “I never said that. But there was no coercion. Or manipulation.”
And Mzatal would have confirmed that.
Her expression sobered. “I had congestive heart failure. A year or two left to live at most. Couldn’t walk up a flight of stairs. Could barely walk to my car, for that matter. Rhyzkahl healed me, gave me back a life worth living. But that’s not why I stayed.” She shrugged. “Okay, maybe that was part of it. But, honestly, I liked my life in the demon realm.”
“Were the others sick, too?”
“Not everyone was terminal, but all had issues or diseases that drastically affected quality of life.” She took a deep breath. “We were told that if, at the end of two months, we wished to return to Earth, we could, with memory of the demon realm erased. None of us wanted to go. Whatever screening Farouche did to pick us was solid. No attachments, open-minded, intelligent, and living crippled lives.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m having to readjust everything I’ve been thinking for the past half a year.” I couldn’t think of how they’d been screened so well, unless maybe demahn
k help had been involved? My thoughts turned to poor Amaryllis Castlebrook who I’d impersonated in order to save her from being kidnapped as well as to infiltrate the Farouche Plantation. Though my intentions were solid, had I inadvertently kept her from getting help she needed? I made a mental note to track her down and check on her. Assuming she was still alive.
Janice was silent, probably readjusting a few opinions of her own as well. At least I hoped so. After a moment, she drew a deeper breath and smiled. “Teri Abraham didn’t graduate from high school due to paralyzing social anxiety and panic attacks, but she must have an IQ out in the stratosphere. Lightning quick and witty to boot. She’s blossomed with Amkir.”
I gaped in surprise. Amkir? Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine that harsh lord nurturing anything or anyone. Yet an instant later, memory flashed, as clear as if it was happening right here and now, of Amkir rescuing the stray dog from the river. Back when he’d been more than he was now, before the volatile anger.
“And me?” she continued, oblivious to my shock. “I was a geophysicist in a dead end job and staring death in the face. I got the chance to live again, to make a difference. My seismologic research in the demon realm is helping the lords predict problem areas. In fact, while I’m on Earth I want to pick up equipment to take back.”
“You really do like it there,” I said.
“I do,” she said fervently. “It’s different with Mzatal, but he respects my work.” Her gaze went out the window. “He didn’t tell me why he exiled Rhyzkahl.”
“I think there were several reasons for it,” I said. “But one was that Rhyzkahl was so out of whack after losing his ptarl bond with Zakaar that his presence in the demon realm was causing a potency imbalance and messing things up there.”
Her lips pursed. “And I’m sure there was a strategic aspect as well as far as getting him out of the game.” She winced. “Not that Rhyzkahl was able to do much after he lost Zakaar.”
“Agreed, on both counts.” Other than the part about losing Zakaar. Rhyzkahl was given every opportunity to salvage the relationship and spurned them all. “I also suspect that part of why Mzatal locked him down here was to let Rhyzkahl rehab himself—physically, mentally, and arcanely. The demon realm can’t afford to be short a lord right now. Any lord. Not with so many anomalies along with the screwed up potency balance.” I shook my head. “Covering for Rhyzkahl takes a toll on all of them.”
Her gaze sharpened on me. “But why is he here with you? Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s clear you hate his guts.”
I let out a breathless laugh. “Funny thing is, I don’t. Not anymore, I mean, though I certainly have every reason to.” I sobered and met her eyes. “But I don’t trust him. I can’t ever trust him again.” I sighed. “I won’t lie. There are times when it’s really hard to deal with him.”
“What the hell did he do to you?”
He used me, preyed upon my vulnerabilities, and tortured me, I thought, yet I suddenly had no desire to launch into the ugly details. I’d lived through them. I’d relived them a thousand times in my dreams. I was done rekindling their power through retelling the story. Screw that. “He betrayed me,” I said. “And he tried to destroy Kara Gillian.”
Questions furrowed her brow at my phrasing, but I spoke before she could voice them. “Now that we’ve straightened out the misunderstandings, I won’t keep you from your reunion with Rhyzkahl any longer.” I gave her a smile. “He seemed happy to see you, and I’m sure you both have catching up to do. That cask on the counter is tunjen juice. I bet he’d appreciate some. Glasses are in the cupboard over the coffeemaker. Feel free to get one for yourself, too.”
Janice blinked then stood. “Right. Um, thanks. For the talk and the tunjen.”
“Anytime.”
She found two glasses and filled them from the cask then headed out the back door. Though full night had descended during our chat, the security lights on the house gave plenty of illumination for me to see her cross to Rhyzkahl. She handed him the glass of tunjen and said something that made him laugh, then he took a drink, draped his arm around her shoulders, and headed with her toward his house.
I wiped the smile off my face. Damn, I was getting soft in my old age.
Now that I had a quiet moment alone, I pulled Elinor’s journal from my pocket. I couldn’t articulate why I’d felt it was so important to retrieve it—whether due to Elinor’s influence or my cop sense—but there was no denying my relief that I had it. I opened it now and began to page through it almost reverently. The text had seventeenth century style and spelling, but fortunately Elinor’s essence allowed me to read it with ease.
To my surprise, for every page of text, there were at least five containing finely rendered sketches of demon realm flora and fauna, as exquisite as any naturalist could desire. Curiously, the inside of the back cover held a mix of letters and numbers that seemed to be arranged in words and sentences, though “H4rq9pr” looked more like a never-to-be-remembered computer password than a language. A personal code, perhaps? Yet I didn’t see it used anywhere else in the journal.
After a quick and fruitless check for anything in the various drawings that might help in my current situation—such as pictures of Jontari or sigils for binding—I moved on to skim her written entries.
They began with her arrival in the demon realm and befriending Giovanni, touched lightly on her training with Mzatal, then changed in tone, with coy references to a Him that I knew was Rhyzkahl. The entries stopped for several months then picked up again, though less frequently than before, with her in Szerain’s realm. Far more talk of Giovanni, and dozens of sketches of him. Sketches of Szerain as well, along with a variety of demons and one demahnk that I recognized as Xharbek.
But nothing of the ritual that killed her and caused the cataclysm.
I stroked my fingers down the spine of the journal, thoughtful. I clearly remembered an Elinor-dream in which Mzatal took the journal from her because she was doodling instead of studying. That was right before he sent her away to train with Szerain, but obviously she got the journal back somehow. Most likely, Mzatal returned it later on—since it seemed more than a little cruel to flat out steal a girl’s diary. The real mystery was how it ended up in his possession again, stored away in his solarium.
Yet another question to ask the next time I saw him.
Jill came up from the basement, summoned by my shamelessly pleading text, since no way did I want to navigate the basement stairs with my wonky knee. After I filled her in on the events of our demon realm trip, I handed Elinor’s journal over to her with the request that it be photo-archived.
“I’ll get right on it,” she said. “You go get that knee checked out.”
“As soon as I look in on Pellini,” I promised.
“Fair enough.” With a crisp parting nod, she returned to the basement.
• • •
Pellini’s door was ajar, and a peek inside showed him sitting on the end of the bed, looking out the window. His hair was damp, which told me he’d caught a quick shower while I was involved with all the other shit.
I tapped lightly on the door frame. “Mind a little company?”
“Nah, come on in.” He gave me a slight smile. “Found out Kuktok made it through okay.”
“Dude, that’s fantastic!” I plopped into the chair beside the bed and cut right to the chase. “How do you feel?”
“Kind of tired but, overall, better than I’ve felt in decades.” Pellini snorted. “Kadir fixed me right up. I mean, everything. Knees, back, all the little aches and pains from being overweight. And . . . well, I already knew I wasn’t in the best of health, what with my high blood pressure and diabetes, but Kadir showed me that, even if the demon hadn’t ripped into me, I was going to bite it within a year or two.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “How come?”
“I had a couple of b
lockages in my heart, plus a little cluster of cells in my liver that were ready to join the cancer club. Would’ve been a tight race to see which took me out first.” His words were light, but the catch in his voice revealed how freaked out he was. His gaze drifted out the window again to where the nearly full moon hung above the tree line. “Kadir took me . . . elsewhere,” he continued more quietly. “It was like the dreamspace but less shifty colors and more solid. And he wasn’t Mr. Sparkly. Just himself. Normal. I mean, as normal as he can be.” He drew a deeper breath as if amazed he could still do so. “He told me I was dead. Dead. Asked me if I wanted to stay or go, live or move on to whatever comes after.”
“That’s a hell of a thing,” I murmured.
His hand crept up to touch the sigil scar through his shirt. “Kara, there was a big part of me that was ready to let go. Like, everything would be lighter. No more pain or bullshit. And, hell, a few months ago I would have just . . . gone.” He jerked his hand down and tucked it under his thigh, as if he’d only just realized he’d been tracing the scar.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
He gave a slow nod, brow furrowed. “When he asked me the live or die question, my first thought was of all the shit we’re doing to try and put both worlds right, and all the people who need my help.”
“We do need your help,” I said.
“Yeah. Go figure.” He grimaced. “I didn’t become a cop for any noble purpose. I had everything going for me coming out of college. My big plan was to work my ass off for a couple of years to squirrel away some cash for law school. But when Kadir abandoned me, and my mom passed away, I turned into a surly bastard. Ran my fiancée off within a month.” Old grief shimmered in his eyes. “That was the last straw. I didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone—especially myself—but I needed a job and thought being a cop would be cool, a way to get respect and have people look up to me. Of course the whole instant respect thing didn’t happen, because that kind of shit has to be earned. And my attitude was so lousy it only pissed me off when people weren’t falling all over themselves to kiss my feet.” He gave me a crooked smile. “Man, I was livid when you got promoted to detective. Here you were, young and sharp and getting all the attention I never got. Took me a while to figure out you were getting it because you fucking did your job and took pride in it.” His posture straightened subtly. “But I’m finally getting my act together and doing something right again. And when Kadir asked me to choose, I realized it’d be stupid to check out now when I have a chance to make a real difference.”
Legacy of the Demon Page 33