Rhyzkahl took a forced step back and growled an angry curse. He turned his back on me, lifted his open right hand. “You had all within your grasp and cast it aside. You will be mine.” He made a fist and ripped it forward, wrenching the dream-sending away.
I gasped and my knees buckled. Mzatal held me securely from behind, his left arm over my shoulder and across my chest until I could get my legs to support me again. I managed to do so, then pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes. “Shit.”
Mzatal muttered something in demon as he half-carried me back into the bedchamber and settled me in his chair. He dragged the sheet from the bed and draped it over me, then crouched and peered up into my face.
“What was that?” he asked, naked concern etched in his features. “I could only peripherally sense it.”
I grimaced as my head throbbed. “Dream. A dream-sending from Rhyzkahl.”
“That was no dream. This has happened before?”
“Yeah, shit. A bunch of times on Earth,” I replied, rubbing my temples. “This time it was way stronger than before though. When I died, the link was broken, but he hooked it right back up next time I summoned him. The bastard.”
Mzatal laid his hands over mine at my temples and eased the headache, then drew my hands down into my lap and held them there. Without taking his eyes from mine he called out to Gestamar. “Have Idris prepare a purification now, with the last quadrant open. I will need to specialize it.”
I heard Gestamar’s acknowledging grunt from the other room. Mzatal squeezed my hands. “It would have been useful to know of this sooner.”
I gave the lord a sour look. “Well, he hasn’t done it in a long time, and I figured you’d tromped through my head enough to know every fucking thing about me. I mean you know what goddamn brand of tampons I use.”
Mzatal closed his eyes and shook his head. “And understandable to draw that conclusion. But this is something I could not detect, and even when active, I could not follow it.”
That didn’t sound good. “Can you get rid of it?”
“I gathered enough during the contact to localize it,” he said, opening his eyes again and looking into mine. “I will deactivate it.”
So far he’d followed through on what he said he’d do. No reason not to trust him in this as well. I managed a weak smile. “I guess training will come later?”
“Priorities. This first. Definitely this first.” He gave my hands a final squeeze then released them. “Tell me what happened,” he said, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.
And I did. By the time I finished, a slight frown curved his mouth, and he seemed deep in thought.
“What is it?” I asked.
Mzatal shook his head. “He is dangerous in a new way. He has shown signs of true jealousy. I witnessed it clearly during the ritual, and it colored much of your interaction in the dream-sending.”
“He’s possessive,” I agreed “What’s so bad about that? I mean apart from it being totally psycho that it’s directed at me.”
“I have known Rhyzkahl for millennia, and he has never shown jealousy,” Mzatal said with a slow shake of his head. “Possessive power displays between qaztahl, yes. That is normal for all of us. Personal jealousy such as he has shown is alien. It is not our nature.”
I took that in, though it was hard to get my head around the idea of the lords not being jealous. “Well it sure as hell looks like his nature now,” I said, scowling. “He seemed to lose it when I told him I would never go with him.” I put the puzzle pieces together. “You’re saying he’s an unknown because you don’t have a precedent for it, and therefore he’s dangerous. More dangerous.”
Mzatal nodded. “Yes, and we will need to take that into account.”
“What did he mean when he said, ‘You think your saviour’s hands are clean?’” I asked, watching him carefully.
Mzatal exhaled. “I have lived millennia, Kara, and done much that would revolt you. My hands are not clean.”
I realized I didn’t really want to know the details right then, not with everything else I already had to deal with. The fact that he hadn’t tried to dance around the question was sufficient—for the moment. I didn’t hold any illusions that he was a saint; he was a demonic lord, and I’d had a glimpse of his darker side.
I nodded in acknowledgement. “Fair enough, for now.”
He stood. “Go bathe, then come to the summoning chamber, and we will disengage this link. Gestamar will stay with you.”
I looked up at him and nodded, tension leaching out of me. He gave me a quick smile and departed, hands clasped behind his back. I watched him go, grateful to him on innumerable levels. Though I was the one who’d pushed Rhyzkahl away, I wasn’t sure if I could have done it without Mzatal’s support—at least not yet. I owed him big time. Again.
Was he keeping score? And if so, what would the payoff be?
Chapter 26
I tried to avoid thinking about the coming ritual as I made my way to the summoning chamber. It’s a purification, I told myself sharply. Not even as dangerous as a summoning, and I’ve done a kajillion of those. Didn’t help. The curl of tension still sat like a rock in my chest.
I stopped before the double doors, heart suddenly pounding a mile a minute. I didn’t reach for the handle to pull the doors open. I didn’t want to go in there. Bad things happened in summoning chambers.
He held his hand out, and I stepped forward and took it. He smiled down at me. Pain. Blood.
I startled as Mzatal placed his hands on my shoulders from behind, and I realized I’d been standing in one place, staring at the doors for what had to have been at least ten minutes, so absorbed I hadn’t even felt his approach. Yet he didn’t say anything, simply held my shoulders and let me know he was there.
“I’m sick of trying to be strong,” I whispered hoarsely. “I’m not. I’m not strong at all. I fake it and pretend to be tough, but I can’t do this.” I shook my head in a sharp motion, eyes on the doors. “I…I can’t go in there.”
“In there or out here,” Mzatal said in quiet, resonant tones, “it is the same. It is a horrific ghost that haunts you, wherever you are. What you carry, what you fear, is as potent on this side of the door as it is within the chamber, though its manifestation is clearer there.” His gave my shoulders a light squeeze. “Your victory is in facing the ghost where it manifests strongest. Turn from it now, and Rhyzkahl triumphs, and you, and those you care for, no longer face a ghost but a certainty. Face it now with me beside you, and you are a step closer to banishing the ghost forever.”
I breathed out a curse. “Oprah needs to have you on her show,” I said sourly, feeling the truth of his words. I hated it, yet I also knew I had to accept it.
Steeling myself, I grabbed the handles and yanked. They opened far more easily than I expected, and only Mzatal’s hands on my shoulders saved me from toppling back on my ass. I grimaced. Yeah, this was a great way to start things off.
I headed through the antechamber and into the chamber itself. Idris was already there, standing by a much simpler and smaller diagram than the one that had been used on me previously. Mzatal moved past me to inspect the diagram, but I stayed where I was, near the door. Sigils twisted and glimmered a foot off the floor in ordered rings, mesmerizing even unignited. I tried to breathe normally and not like a hyperventilating chihuahua, but I could feel sweat pricking the small of my back.
“Do I need to do anything?” I asked Mzatal when he looked my way.
He shook his head. “There are no special preparations needed.”
I raised and eyebrow. “Really? No being led around hooded, and scary thrumming, and all of that? Really?”
“There will be thrumming during the process itself, but not before,” he said. “There is no purpose for that now, nor for a hood.”
Slick motherfucker. Now I understood. He pushed buttons as part of the damned assessment. Yeah, he’d needed to purify me when I first arrived, but the rest of it was all to see
how I’d react. I leveled a scowl at him. “Is there anything in our agreement that says I can’t call you names?”
He crouched and added a few touches to the diagram. A very faint smile curved his mouth. “No.”
My own mouth twitched. “So, hypothetically, if I were to call you an asshole, there’d be no reprisals?” I asked with an innocent look. “Hypothetically, of course.”
Idris glanced up sharply, then hissed and drew back his hand as the sigil he was working on stung him.
“Nothing of that sort is covered by the agreement,” was Mzatal’s mild reply.
I chuckled under my breath. “I think I’ll just call you Boss.”
He glanced over at me with a raised eyebrow. I smiled sweetly in response. Mzatal straightened, turned fully to me, hands behind back and head lowered slightly, and still with the faint hint of a smile. “There could be consequences.”
I shrugged, still smiling. “What fun would it be if there weren’t?”
Mzatal lifted his head. “None whatsoever,” he said, his face betraying a hint of amusement as he moved to the center of the diagram.
My smile faded as he turned to face me. Somehow I’d forgotten the pesky detail where I had to go into the diagram.
He held out his hand to me. My mouth went dry. Rhyzkahl had done this same thing—stood in the center of the diagram, invited me to cross over, to walk gullibly to my own doom.
My gaze snapped to the door of the chamber as I looked for the sigil that would seal it. No, it’s Mzatal’s chamber, not Rhyzkahl’s. Almost identical. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. Stop being such a fucking pussy! I railed at myself.
Opening my eyes, I looked to him. He waited patiently, exuding calm and stability. I moved jerkily forward, like an automaton that hadn’t been oiled, but I made it to the diagram and passed through the sigils. I took his hand, all too aware that my own was probably gross and sweaty and clammy right now.
He gave my gross, sweaty hand a squeeze and ignited the diagram with a flick of his fingers.
“Thanks, Boss,” I whispered.
His eyes met mine, deep, ancient, and intense. “You are most welcome, Kara Gillian.”
He helped me down to lie on my back, then retreated from the circle. I closed my eyes and waited for the shit to start.
The next thing I knew, someone called my name and a hand squeezed my shoulder.
“Mzatal?” I blinked awake to see the lord crouched beside me, his forehead covered in a sheen of sweat. “It’s done?”
“Yes. The link has been cleared.”
I squinted at him as I sat up, my eyes feeling oversensitive to the light. “You okay? I can’t believe I fell asleep.”
He gave a quick nod. “With a triple pygah set above you, you would have found it challenging to stay awake, and I needed the stillness of your mind.”
“Well, it worked,” I said as I watched Idris clear the last of a support diagram that hadn’t been there when the ritual started. “It was hard?”
His mouth curved in a faint smile. “Rhyzkahl does not relinquish his treasures easily.”
“I bet he doesn’t.” I met his eyes. “Thanks.”
“You are welcome.” He stood and held his hand out to me. “I searched for anything else that had been integrated using rakkuhr and found nothing.”
I pushed aside the thought of Mzatal digging through my head before it could weird me out. It had to be done. As I straightened my clothes, I found myself looking down at the deactivated glyph in the center of the floor. I frowned. There’d been a pair in the center of Rhyzkahl’s ritual. One had been Rhyzkahl’s mark, and the other one naggingly familiar though I couldn’t place it.
I nodded toward the glyph. “Is that your mark?”
He crouched and passed his hand over the glyph, igniting it to a soft blue glow. “Yes, with a few variations for this specific ritual.” He traced around a section with his finger. “Here is the core of it.”
“So any ritual you do has your mark in it?”
He looked up at me and nodded. “Yes, the qaztahl’s mark is the hub of any ritual in the demon realm.”
“In…in his ritual, his mark was there along with another. I didn’t realize it then, but it had to have been a qaztahl’s mark as well. Probably Jesral’s, right?”
“Yes, Jesral’s mark was there,” he said. He stood slowly, eyes on mine. “What troubles you?”
“It looked so familiar.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to place it. “I didn’t have time to think about it then though, y’know? But I’ve seen it before. On Earth.” I struggled to remember. “Shit.”
“Pygah,” Mzatal said, reminding me to use my resources. “That you’ve seen Jesral’s mark on Earth is significant.”
I called the pygah and breathed, but the connection still eluded me. “Damn it,” I said, knowing I needed to remember. “Can you, um, help?”
He smiled a bit, probably amused that I asked him to do something I’d so strenuously resisted before. “Yes. A simple prompt, nothing more.”
A second later, I knew. I could hear the water drip in the shower, smell the soap, feel the humidity of steam. “Tattoo,” I said. “On one of Katashi’s senior students. Tsuneo.” A smooth-faced Japanese man a few years younger than me who’d been studying with Katashi for five or six years. I didn’t know much more about him. Katashi didn’t have more than a few students with him at any time, and his more senior students tended to live and practice elsewhere, only coming to Katashi’s mansion for summonings. “It was down by his hip where no one would normally see it,” I continued, “but I walked in on him in the bathroom. It was small, but I know it was the same.”
Mzatal went still, only the muscle in his jaw shifting as he ground his teeth.
“Why would one of Katashi’s students have a tat of Jesral’s mark?” I asked, not liking any of the answers I came up with.
Mzatal remained silent for another moment, and when he spoke, power boiled behind the words. “Only if Jesral has influence in Katashi’s enclave.”
Everything about that was disturbing. Jesral with a foothold in Mzatal’s Earth presence held implications beyond my puny knowledge, but I knew enough to label it a Really Bad Thing. “I guess it’s too much to hope that Tsuneo simply found it in a book and thought it would make a cool tat?”
Mzatal took my hand in a firm grip and strode toward the doors. We passed through the antechamber, crossed the corridor and exited onto the balcony.
He breathed deeply and closed his eyes as he released my hand, undoubtedly calling up the pygah. “A chance that he came upon it by accident? Yes,” he said, then he shook his head. “Likely? No.”
I leaned on the rail and rubbed at my temples. “Shit gets more and more fun,” I said with a sigh. “So when do you start training me? I think I’m going to need it, and soon.”
He stood beside me, looking out to the sea and sky. “You need everything I can teach you, all that you can absorb,” he said, voice still brimming with power. “Meet me at the column at midday wearing clothing suitable for working out.”
I straightened and regarded his profile. The set of his jaw betrayed his deep turmoil. “You got it, Boss,” I said, laying my hand briefly on his shoulder before I turned and departed.
Chapter 27
Workout clothing? An ilius—Tata, I think—coiled out of my way as I passed through the main room and into the bedroom. To my utter shock, I found a tank top, something that looked very much like a sports bra, socks and shorts. Apparently the zrila had been busy sewing like, well, demons. I quickly threw the clothing on, then spent several frustrating minutes looking for my sneakers, finally finding them in the insane location known as the-bottom-of-the-wardrobe-where-they-belong. Crazy faas!
I raked my hair back into a ponytail as I headed out and reached the column just as the midday tone resonated through me. I looked up. It rose three stories or so, about ten feet in diameter at the base, narrowing gradually to a flat top th
at was half that. Though of the same ubiquitous basalt of the area, its polished surface glimmered in othersight as though coated with a thin layer of potency. As good a place to meet as any I supposed. What the heck did the lord have planned for me that required workout clothing? Exercise? The Arcane? I sucked equally at both.
A few minutes later Mzatal approached down the long path from the palace. I allowed myself an appreciative smile at his appearance. Barefooted and bare-chested, he wore loose pants of deep blue low on his hips, and a sleeveless and flowing knee-length open tunic in a fabric that shimmered impossibly between gold, maroon, and dark green. His braid hung over his right shoulder, though calling it simply a braid did little justice to the intricate weave. It had to be at least a dozen strands, wound through with cords of silver, gold, and bronze. He looked damn good.
As he neared I gave him a grin. “Nice duds, Boss. Looking sharp.”
With a glance and faint smile, he continued past me and to the column. Placing his right hand on the surface, he murmured something too low for me to hear, then clasped both hands behind his back and turned to regard me, smiling enigmatically.
I gave him a wary look. “What’s the plan for today?”
“This is where it begins,” he said, voice rich and intense, “and this is where it ends. The Primary Initiation.”
“Okaaay,” I said, totally baffled. “And what does that mean?”
“This segment of training begins now and ends when you survive the execution of a perfect shikvihr atop the column.”
Survive?? I tipped my head back to look at the column. How the hell was I supposed to climb that thing?
I dragged my eyes from the column and back to Mzatal. “You’re fucking kidding me.”
His smile didn’t waver. “No, I am not. It is an arduous undertaking, and one that will serve you well.”
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