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

by Rowland, Diana

  “Zharkat—”

  “You always do what is needed, beloved,” I said in little more than a whisper. I tipped my head up to his. “You must do this. We must do this.” I swallowed. “Together we can do anything.” Even if we aren’t together.

  A long sigh shuddered from him. He cradled my head to his chest and remained still for a long moment. When he spoke, the words flowed through the connection and resonated through my skull.

  “It is the only way.”

  I slid my arms around him, beneath his shirt to the skin of his back. I memorized the feel of him, his body against mine, the steady beat of his heart against my cheek. I drank him in, knowing it would never be enough.

  And now we must each go to our own distant battles. My hand went to the back of his neck, and I drew him down for a kiss. Our parting kiss, perhaps our last one. He knew it as much as I, and we joined with all the desperation and pain and love and grief and joy that had brought us to this point. He broke the kiss, cradled my face, and rested his forehead against mine. The world retreated and we simply Were. United. Timeless. Infinite.

  And now I knew. The first time we’d made love, Mzatal had shared the universe with me like this, forehead to forehead. That was when he’d instinctually forged our essence bond.

  Mzatal’s confirmation enveloped me. In the vastness of the void, he asked if I regretted the union. Asked if I wished to sunder it. In answer I drew our consciousness higher, entwined, reveled in the freedom and the expansion. Though our bond would be silenced, it would remain for eternity.

  Eventually, I covered his hands with mine, forced myself to pull away, kissed his palms, stepped back. “Go, beloved,” I murmured. “Unleash hell.”

  Resolve settled over him. He squeezed my hands and released them. “Tah zhar lahn, eturnik.” I love you, eternally.

  “Tah zhar lahn, eturnik,” I echoed as my heart broke into a million pieces.

  His hands closed into fists to call potency as anger kindled at the injustice of our situation. Rage crackled through our bond, and his breath hissed through clenched teeth.

  Dread and grief flooded me as his fury escalated toward a flare—an arcane burst potent enough to reduce my entire property to ash. This was the toll he paid for daring to be open and maintain his essence blade—uncontrolled fury that now only affirmed our decision.

  His eyes sought mine through the rage, and I felt his essence call to me. He wavered on the brink of the terrible sacrifice—to give up all that was the true Mzatal. Love. Laughter. Joy. To silence and sequester our bond. He couldn’t do it on his own, needed me to urge him into the prison he’d created. To save both worlds, it was my duty to lock down a weapon of uncontrollable intensity and release a new one of ruthless precision. Nausea rose as his anguish and fury whirled higher. My duty sucked.

  “Boss.” I called to him on all levels. “Mzatal. Do it. You have to close off now.” I backed to the far edge of the nexus. “CALL THE GODDAMN BLADE!” I screamed at him. “DO IT NOW!”

  A terrifying cry ripped from his throat. He thrust his hand up, gripped the hilt of Khatur as the blade answered his call.

  “So alone.” His words shivered through our bond.

  “Never,” I answered.

  “Tah zhar lahn.”

  “Eturnik.”

  Eyes on mine, he swept Khatur in a vicious arc. The barriers slammed shut like impenetrable walls of tungsten steel, and our connection shattered into icy silence. His face transformed to an unreadable, glacial mask as he retreated within. His eyes went last, radiating boundless wrath that hardened to terrifying, flint-grey vehemence. A wave of black malevolence roiled from him and through me.

  Shocked to my bones, I staggered back and off the nexus. Expectation didn’t hold a candle to reality.

  The concrete of the nexus slab beneath his feet blackened. Heart hammering, I retreated farther as the blight spread, and within seconds the whole of the platform succumbed and glistened like obsidian. Strands of silvery metal writhed across its surface and settled into intricate patterns. Unnamed dread rose within me as the last strand slithered into place.

  Dangerously silent and forbidding, Mzatal turned his back on me as if I held no more importance than a worm in the dirt. He strode off the nexus toward the wooded path that led to the pond valve, and I sank to my knees to watch his departure in numb horror. With each step, the grass charred and smoldered beneath his boots. The trees shivered as he passed between them and then went still.

  Silence. Not a whisper of wind through leaves. Not the call of a bird or the buzz of an insect. And nothing of our connection.

  In another heartbeat he was gone, leaving only aching emptiness and the stench of sulfur in his wake.

  Mzatal. Beloved. What have we wrought?

  Chapter 36

  A crow cawed, harsh and merciless and, as if it had broken a spell, normal sound rushed in. The rustle of leaves, the chatter of squirrels, the hum of a mosquito. Ordinary sounds of my backyard.

  I swallowed and licked my lips, pulled myself to my feet and edged closer to the slab of the nexus. Not concrete anymore, that was for sure. Wary, I extended a hand toward the glassy blacker-than-black surface, touched a finger to it and yanked it back as if testing a hot stove. Emboldened, I touched it again for an instant longer, and when I failed to die or turn into a newt, placed my hand flat on its surface. Cool and smooth, and even without arcane senses I could feel that it was powerful.

  The silvery threads had formed an intricate filigree, like a perfect and symmetrical fractal snowflake. Silver-white and so shiny they practically glowed.

  I straightened and took in the whole of it. If I focused on its amazing beauty, I didn’t have to think about everything else that had happened here. Didn’t have to think about what Mzatal had become, and what we’d sacrificed.

  I shook myself, blew out a gusty breath. Yep, the nexus was frickin’ incredible. Idris would shit himself when he saw it.

  Speaking of Idris, where the hell was he? I looked around, frowning. Surely he and Pellini had felt Mzatal after he’d changed. Why hadn’t they come outside? Even Sammy was mysteriously absent, and no one was peeking out the kitchen window.

  Worried thoughts tumbled over each other as I hurried to the house, each theory more outlandish than the last. By the time I hit the back door I’d progressed to the certainty that Mzatal had sent a secret invisible Pulse of Dire Doom through the house and Pellini and Idris were—

  —poring over maps at the kitchen table with Sammy asleep on the throw rug. Idris glanced up as I burst in.

  “Hey, Kara, I brought your phone in from the truck.” Casual nonchalance, as if he didn’t give a single fuck that Mzatal had been in the backyard moments earlier.

  “Yeah, Sarge called you a minute ago,” Pellini added, and then he and Idris returned their attention to the maps.

  Comprehension dawned. Mzatal must have set aversions or done some manipulation on the two to make sure that he and I wouldn’t be disturbed. Relieved, I scooped up my phone and noted Cory Crawford as a missed call. “Where’s Bryce?” I asked.

  “In the mobile home with Jill,” Pellini said. “Something about Christmas cookies in July. Apparently Jill bakes when she’s stressed.”

  “We’re going to need a longer obstacle course at this rate,” I said with a snort then called Cory back. He answered on the first ring.

  “Kara, thanks for calling back.”

  “Sure thing. What’s up?”

  “There are people on that spot in the parking lot again,” he said. “Three of them this time: the same redhead as before, a young Japanese guy—Tsuneo, it looks like from the pics you sent me—and the old guy.”

  My mind snapped to attention. I spun back toward the others and covered the phone. “Katashi’s at the PD!” Idris let out a curse, folded the maps and grabbed his bag. Pellini pushed up from his chair then hurried to his room. “Isumo Katashi,” I said to Cory. “We’re on our way.”

  “Kara, if they�
�re up to serious shit, why don’t I go slap cuffs on them?” Cory asked. “I can trump up a charge in a flash.”

  “No! They may not look all that dangerous, but they are, especially the old guy. And they’ll have other people nearby whose job it is to make sure no one fucks with them. It won’t be as simple as slapping cuffs on.” As I spoke I grabbed an empty shopping bag and loaded it with beef jerky, snacks, and bottled water. I hadn’t eaten since a rubbery sausage biscuit in jail before my hearing.

  “All right,” Cory said, but it was obvious he didn’t like sitting on his hands while people were doing weird stuff around the PD. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Keep your people clear of the area. I don’t want to scare off the baddies.”

  “Got it,” he said. “See you when you get here.”

  I ran to my bedroom and grabbed my gun and a box of ammo along with clean underwear, bra, shirt, and tactical pants. Arms full, I dashed out to Pellini’s truck only a few steps behind Idris. He moved toward the back as if to be nice and let me have a chance at riding shotgun, but I shook my head. “No, you take the front.”

  Idris complied without argument. I dove into the back seat with my bundle of stuff. Pellini climbed in and started the engine, and I yanked off my stinky shirt and bra. Idris gave me a startled look then jerked his gaze away, ears pinking.

  I shucked off my jeans and undies next. “Both of you have already seen me naked, so what difference does it make?”

  Pellini glanced at me in the rear view mirror and quirked a smile. Idris stared straight ahead as I set a world record getting into my clean clothing. By the time we passed through the gate, I was dressed and seatbelted and ready to kick some Katashi butt.

  While Pellini drove like a bat out of hell, I called Bryce to let him know why we’d streaked out of there. He replied with the expected, “Be careful and keep me posted,” then added, “Do you have extra ammunition?”

  “I grabbed a box on my way out,” I said then glanced at Pellini. “You have spare ammo?”

  “Thousand rounds of .45 under your seat,” he said, and while I goggled at that he continued, “along with two hundred fifty rounds of double-aught buckshot, a twelve gauge shotgun, five hundred rounds of nine millimeter, and a Glock 19.”

  “Uh, I think we’re good,” I told Bryce.

  He laughed. “So I heard. A man after my own heart!”

  Pellini caught my eye in the mirror as I hung up. “When things started getting weird, I figured I needed to be prepared.”

  “I am beyond impressed,” I said fervently.

  He took a hard turn onto Serenity Road and gunned it. “Also have a Smith 642 and a box of .38 in the glove box.” He slid a look to Idris. “You know how to shoot a gun?”

  To my surprise a flush crept up Idris’s cheeks. “I know which end to point at the bad guys,” he said, “but I’ve only shot BB guns.”

  “That’s a start,” Pellini said without a hint of disdain. “I’m a certified firearms instructor. When this shit is over I’ll give you a few lessons. If you want, that is.”

  Idris blinked in astonishment, then his face lit up. “Yeah, I’d like that a lot.”

  “Good deal. I try to get out to the range at least once a week to practice. Only way to keep skills sharp.”

  I ate beef jerky and pretended I wasn’t paying attention while inwardly I writhed in embarrassment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been to the range, and even when I was a cop I’d gone every few months at most. I’d always told myself it was more important that I study the arcane. Ugh. Excuses. Thankfully neither of them queried me about my own firearm skills, and the conversation devolved to occasional colorful commentary from Pellini on the general lack of competence of other drivers.

  I tapped Idris on the shoulder. “The PD valve isn’t supposed to burp until tomorrow afternoon. You think Katashi guessed we were planning to symmetrize it in the morning and moved up his timetable?”

  His jaw tightened. “He’s up to no good, that’s for sure. He only makes field trips for alterations, not research.”

  Wonderful. I closed my eyes and readied myself to face whatever Katashi might throw our way, steeled myself to set my feelings about my encounter with Mzatal aside until I had private time to fully deal with them. We fought the same war, worlds apart, and now I was on my way to my battle, my front line. I couldn’t close off as Mzatal had, but I sure as shit could concentrate on this and do what needed to be done.

  After a speedy drive of shortcuts and blown stop signs, Pellini made a sharp turn into the PD detectives’ parking lot. Orange construction cones and caution tape still created a physical boundary around the valve. No sign of Katashi or any of his people.

  Pellini parked well away from the valve, and we all climbed out. Everything seemed normal to me, but the dismay on the faces of Pellini and Idris told me how very wrong my perception was.

  “That looks really . . . weird,” Pellini muttered. Idris said something under his breath that didn’t sound biologically possible and set off toward the orange cones.

  “Idris, what can you tell me?” I asked but he responded with only a slight headshake, attention locked onto the valve. So much for my fantasy that we could symmetrize this one and go.

  Cory stepped out of the door to Investigations and gestured me over. I jogged to him while giving the valve area a wide berth. “Those people didn’t do anything,” he told me when I reached him. “I poked around after they left but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.”

  “Nothing that you can see.” I looked around, disturbed. “I have a feeling they did plenty.” As I watched, Idris approached the valve as cautiously as if it was a sleeping tiger. Pellini remained a few feet behind him, smart enough to trust Idris’s judgment. “I know you hated twiddling your thumbs, but it was better not to confront them.”

  “I don’t get it,” Cory said, pained and bewildered at the same time. He knew there was trouble, but it bugged him that he saw no evidence of it. “Is there something dangerous out there?” He lifted his chin toward the parking lot.

  I didn’t follow his gaze. “There’s a damn good chance of it,” I murmured, pulse quickening as I watched the wall behind him. The shadows near the corner of the building were deeper than the rest, and . . . they’d moved. Nothing obvious—a slight oily shift that anyone else would dismiss as a trick of the light or a passing cloud. I no longer had othersight, but I still had my cop senses along with a shitload of experience with demons. That darker shadow concealed a zhurn—a winged demon that was only visible as an absence of light save for rare glimpses of burning red eyes.

  “I don’t like the look on your face,” Cory said, keeping his tone mild. “I also want to turn and see what you’re staring at.” Luckily he was smart enough to know that jerking around to gape might spook whatever I had my eye on.

  “You can, but keep your movements slow,” I said, nice and conversational. He complied while I kept my eyes glued to the zhurn. If I glanced away and it moved I might not find it again. “The shadows at the corner,” I told him. “The dark ones. Watch them.” My heart pounded as I ran through my various options. None of them were ideal or subtle.

  “What the hell is it?” His hand drifted to his gun.

  I’d never told Cory about the demons. He knew I did weird stuff, but he hadn’t wanted specifics. And now was not the time to drop a charged word like demon on him. “It’s a creature from another dimension,” I said. The zhurn could hear me but wasn’t likely to care what I said. After all, there was little if anything I could do to it.

  The door to Investigations flew open, and Boudreaux raced out. He passed Cory and me without a glance, blocking my view of the zhurn for an instant, but it was all the demon needed.

  “It’s gone!” I wheeled around in an instinctive search. Boudreaux ran to his car, either oblivious or not caring that Idris and Pellini crouched within the caution tape. Pellini lifted his head in surprise and called out to him, but Boudreau
x dove into his car and pulled out of the parking lot with a shriek of tires on asphalt.

  It took me a few seconds to realize that the vibration in the ground wasn’t from the speeding car or a heavy truck driving by. “Oh, shit,” I breathed even as it faded.

  “Was that an earthquake?” Cory asked in disbelief, still looking around uneasily for the demon.

  Before I could answer him, Idris’s voice resonated across the parking lot, tense and angry. “Kara. Katashi has rigged the valve to destroy it.”

  My gut went cold. An arcane blast strong enough to destroy a valve would do a terrible amount of damage to the physical world as well from the shock wave alone. “Why?”

  “Eliminates an outlet. Shunts potency to the node and makes it a ‘supernode,’ but I don’t know how he plans to use it.”

  “How big an area of effect? Can you stop it? Oh, and there’s a zhurn lurking around.”

  “Mile. Two. Maybe more.” Clinical and abrupt. “The charges are set but not activated, so I can’t be sure.” Idris continued to work in all-out super-summoner mode. “I need time to disarm them. Keep the zhurn off of us.”

  Miles? I crushed the panic and clung to my faith in his half-demonic lordiness. “Got it,” I said then turned to Cory who stared in open disbelief. “You need to evacuate the PD and as much as you can around this area,” I told him. “People need to drop everything and go.” He opened his mouth to argue then shut it as another, stronger tremor hit. It only lasted a couple of seconds, but no way could anyone mistake that for a big truck.

  “Evacuate,” he said crisply. “I’m on it.” He might have been out of his element with my kind of weirdness, but handling disaster was right in his wheelhouse. Calm certainty settled over him as he ran into the building and started shouting orders. The honking of the fire alarm cut through the air, followed by a steady flow of people exiting. I held my gun behind my leg and out of sight. Anyone who recognized me would know about my arrest, and now was not the time to deal with questions about why I was in the PD lot with a loaded gun.