Touch of the Demon kg-5

by Diana Rowland

  “Did he tell you he excised his mark with Xhan?” Mzatal asked, eyes on Vahl.

  Vahl’s eyes dropped to my arm. I watched as his lips parted in reaction. Surely he knew what arcane agony the act had held. Vahl tore his gaze away and looked directly at Mzatal, an odd combination of repulsion, horror, and fascination on his face. “Why torture himself—and the girl—thus, severing a mark physically?” he asked, voice incredulous.

  Oh, Rhyzkahl suffered? Poor fucking baby. I glanced back at Mzatal with an “it’s okay” look, then locked my gaze with Vahl’s. I tugged my blouse open at the top so that he could clearly see the intricate tracing of scars on my upper chest. “No, Lord Vahl, this is torture. These were carved with that same blade.”

  He took another half-step back, clearly shocked. His eyes rested on the sigils, revulsion whispering across his face as if they spoke to him in crazed murmurs.

  I closed my blouse, readjusted my clothing. “There was more,” I told him. “Much more.” A tremble went through me as I echoed Rhyzkahl’s words. Mzatal set a hand very gently on my shoulder, calming me, letting me know he was there for me.

  “Vahl,” Mzatal said, “tell me what you know of this ritual.”

  The other lord visibly suppressed a shudder, eyes remaining on me. “On the morning of the ritual, Jesral and Rhyzkahl cloistered themselves in a room near the summoning chamber for hours.” He shook his head. “I do not know with certainty, but I believe it was related. There were also ties to Amkir and Kadir.”

  Mzatal leaned forward ever so slightly, increasing the contact with me. I kept my expression as controlled as possible, feeling him at my back in more ways than one and grateful for the support.

  Vahl ran a hand over his head. “Something went horribly wrong with the ritual and—”

  “No! It didn’t go wrong!” I cut him off, voice cracking. “It went exactly as intended. As Rhyzkahl intended.” I swallowed hard. “He bound me in potency, carved my flesh, and tortured me to charge the sigils and diagram. It was only when he sliced the mark from my arm that Mzatal was able to retrieve me.” Potency flared from Mzatal, backing my words.

  Vahl didn’t argue, obviously disturbed. “When Kara was recalled, the patterns imploded.” His mouth drew into a flat line. “Everybody was aware that something had happened. The entire palace shook.” He lifted his gaze to Mzatal. “Rhyzkahl went down, but no one knew for sure at first because he had sealed the doors such that no one could open them. And none of the syraza would touch it.”

  I had to smile. I was the one who’d sealed the damn chamber with the grove power. “He tried to follow me through the conduit,” I told Vahl, sneering. “I threw him back.”

  He looked at me, eyes haunted. “He emerged later and went straight to his chambers for a full day and night and half of the next day.” He exhaled. “I know nothing more of it.”

  Anger shuddered through me. I would have to bear these scars for the rest of my life, while Rhyzkahl simply had to take a long fucking nap.

  Mzatal dropped his arm over my left shoulder and across my chest, pulling me close and supporting me on many levels. I lightly crossed my arms over his and leaned back against him, let my anger trickle away.

  “When next you see Rhyzkahl,” Mzatal said, “tell him Kara Gillian is under agreement with me and has my full protection.” He paused. “Tell him also that I know what he has done to Xhan.”

  Vahl grimaced, nodded. I didn’t have to read him to know that he wasn’t keen on making that report.

  “And, Vahl,” Mzatal continued, but in a much less scary tone, “that report need not be in his presence. It was an arduous conclave. Perhaps a few days rest here.” The potency eased in Mzatal. “There is the potential for discussions of mutual interest.”

  Relief coupled with uncertainty crossed Vahl’s face. “I will send him a sigil,” he finally replied. “And I am honored to accept your invitation.”

  Well, the next few days will certainly be interesting, I thought to myself.

  Mzatal and Vahl exchanged slight nods, then Vahl turned and left. I let out a breath and turned in Mzatal’s arms, sliding arms around him and leaning my head against his chest. “Thank you.”

  Mzatal put his other arm around me and released the power he’d been holding. “There is no need for thanks,” he replied softly. “It is what had to be done.”

  I tilted my head to look into his face. “No. I mean it. Thank you for being so here for me. I don’t think I could get through this without your help.”

  A smile touched the corners of his mouth. “I will ever be here for you, Kara Gillian.”

  The truth of his statement made me feel warm all over. I gave him a light squeeze. “I’m starving. Are you starving? I think we should eat food that’s terribly bad for us.”

  One silky eyebrow lifted. “I promised you ice cream.”

  I grinned. “So you did.”

  He slipped an arm around my waist and led me inside. “Come then. The faas will prepare a feast of that which is bad for us.”

  Chapter 32

  The next week was a flurry of training with little time to do anything extra but eat and grab what sleep we could. However, I managed to get halfway through the first ring of the shikvihr without blasting the crap out of myself, and only had one teeny little incident where I accidentally set all of my notes and papers on fire. Fortunately I was on the balcony at the time, and the faas were quick with water to douse the small blaze.

  And that, boys and girls, is why you should never sigil in bed, I thought with a low laugh as I cleaned up the mess.

  Mzatal attended to my training as much as possible; there were many hours, however, during which he remained in closed-door meetings with Vahl. Fortunately, I was at a point where the best thing I could do was practice practice practice what I’d already learned. Idris would have helped, but the boy wonder was tied up with some sort of from-scratch development of a new interlinking diagram method that he and Mzatal had brainstormed. Thankfully, Gestamar stayed close by to help me in case I had questions. Or maybe he stuck close by in case I tried to set the place on fire again. Either was possible.

  “Tomorrow is the full moon on Earth,” Gestamar abruptly said, startling me enough that I lost control of the sigil I was crafting. He quickly flicked a claw and dispelled it before it could do more than deliver a light sting.

  I gave him a somewhat sour look. “Okay. But we don’t have to worry about phases of the moon here, do we? I mean, there’s shitloads of available potency.”

  The tip of his tail twitched. “Dahn, but demons will be summoned to earth from here, and I am often among those summoned.”

  “Because you’re so awesome?” I grinned.

  “Kri,” he replied with a proud lift of his chin. “But this is not why I tell you of the full moon.” His eyes met mine as he folded his wings in close. “Jekki and the zhurn Bezik are also oft-summoned, and we have agreed to carry letters for you and do what we can to have them safely delivered to your loved ones.”

  For the longest moment I could only stare at him while I processed this. “Thank you,” I finally managed. He was offering me a chance to personally let Tessa and the others know I was safe and sound. Mzatal’s communication with Earth was shot to hell with Katashi’s defection, and he wouldn’t have a solid back-up system in effect for at least a couple of months. He did have some sort of verbal arrangement in place to get word to my people in case any of his demons were summoned, but, by his own admission, it was unreliable at best, especially since the communication skills of many of the demons weren’t the greatest. A physical letter made it all feel real, as if I could touch the folks back home.

  “I…wow.” I swiped at my eyes, which had somehow become a bit moist. “Thank you,” I repeated.

  Gestamar gave a gentle rumble. “Go and write three copies of a letter.” He paused. “And best not to set them on fire.”

  “Will I ever live that down?” I asked with a laugh.

  The
reyza snorted. “Dahn. Demons have long memories and are easily amused.”

  It took me most of the rest of the day to write a letter to Tessa, primarily because I had no idea how to explain every thing. I finally gave up and kept it short and simple, telling her I was all right and would be home as soon as possible. I didn’t want to go into any of the other stuff in a letter, and the most important thing was to let her know I was alive and reasonably safe.

  There was no sign of Mzatal that night or the next morning, but around mid-afternoon Jekki handed me a trifold parchment with Mzatal’s seal in wax on it. The elegant, handwritten note simply said to please go to the atrium for the evening tone. Please.

  An actual written invitation? Weird.

  I turned to ask Jekki what it was all about, but forgot my question entirely at the sight of the faas laying clothing out upon the bed.

  “This wear!” the faas burbled, pointing to what looked like flowing pants and shirt in a rich maroon. “Tonight. Bathe now and hair Faruk do.”

  My eyebrows lifted as my bafflement increased, but I knew better than to defy Jekki’s directive. I cleaned up, allowed Faruk to do my hair in a complex braid complete with gold and silver strands woven through, donned the new clothing and elegant jeweled sandals, and then headed to the atrium.

  Idris stood watching the beginning of the sunset when I stepped off the stairs. He was dressed to the nines as well, in black jeans, a crisp white tailored shirt, and a grey silk and wool blend jacket. It was a good look for him. Even his hair had been tamed. A bit.

  “Hey, Idris,” I said, “do you know what this is about?”

  “No clue,” he replied with a smile. “It’s a first for me.”

  “Maybe we’re being fired,” I said, “for being simply awful.”

  Idris laughed along with me. “Somehow I don’t think that would come with a fancy invite. Did the faas dress you too?”

  Grinning, I looked down and ran my hands over my outfit. “Yep. Good thing or I’d have shown up in workout clothing.”

  A soft scrape of sound alerted us, and we turned to see Mzatal step into the atrium, wearing the dark Armani suit, white shirt, and a deep red tie. His braid hung over his shoulder wound with extra strands of silver cord, and he looked sharp as all hell.

  “This way,” he said with an enigmatic smile. He turned and headed down stairs I’d yet to explore. With a glance at Idris, I followed, curious and puzzled. After a couple of turns of the spiral stair, we stepped out into a room dancing with light and color. As everywhere else, a wall of glass faced the sea and sunset, but here, the waterfall cascaded before it, spectacular rays of the setting sun streaming through.

  Then came the bewildering part.

  Mzatal strode to the head of a dining table elaborately laid with crystal, silver, and fine china. He glanced at us and gestured to the chairs on each side of the table. Gestamar came in behind us and moved to crouch near Mzatal.

  Idris slid a look at me, and I gave him a what-the-fucking-fuck look right back. I moved to a chair, pulled it out, and sank into it, utterly mystified. Idris sat across from me with a look on his face that mirrored how I felt. I got that we’d apparently been invited to a meal, but that in itself was weird. I’d eaten plenty of times around Mzatal, but apart from wine and tunjen, I rarely saw him eat, and had certainly never shared a meal with him

  Mzatal stood behind his chair, a faint smile curving his lips. “You have both worked very hard,” he said, “and are away from your homes.” He waited while the faas poured wine in our three glasses, then drew a breath as though delaying a moment more to choose his words. “With the fullness of your schedules, you have lost track of your Earth time,” he continued. “This is a day that each of you typically celebrate with your family and with your friends. I cannot offer those, but I can offer the recognition and something of the celebration. Happy Christmas, Idris Palatino and Kara Gillian.”

  A weird jolt went through me, a strange combination of dismay and pleased surprise. Idris simply stared, brow slightly furrowed.

  I’m going to miss Christmas with Tessa. My throat tightened in preparation for a lovely bout of feeling sorry for myself. But Idris is away from his family, too, I reminded myself. And he had to lie to them; through Katashi, they’d been told he was in Japan. Now that Katashi proved himself untrustworthy, who knew what, if anything, Idris’s family was being told. Ruthlessly I shoved the self-pity down.

  Mzatal lifted his glass, smile fading a bit, obviously sensing the muddled emotions. “Here. Drink.”

  I forced a smile as I picked up my glass and took a sip of the really good dark wine. “Merry Christmas, Boss. Thanks for remembering.”

  Idris cleared his throat, seeming to have recovered a bit from his initial shock. “Yeah, um. Thanks. Really,” he said and lifted his glass.

  The doubt seemed to linger in Mzatal’s eyes, and I realized it had to run fairly deep if it was actually showing. Damn it, he’d made an all out effort to do something for us, even if it did sting. Sure, I could get into a big pity party about having to miss Christmas with the folks back home, but that would pretty much guarantee that my Christmas here would suck shit. Truth was, I couldn’t find it in me anymore to resent Mzatal for summoning me. If he and Idris hadn’t brought me here, then Rhyzkahl certainly would’ve carried out his plans, and there wouldn’t have been anyone to rescue me.

  Time to lighten the mood in this room. “Wait,” I said with a laugh. “This isn’t at all like the Christmases I’m used to. There’s no smell of burnt turkey.” I grinned. “Tessa can’t cook for shit, and neither can I.”

  Some of the uncertainty faded from Mzatal’s expression. He downed half a glass of wine, his other hand resting on the back of the chair. “The faas have prepared a meal that they assure me contains your favorites from here and even some from Earth,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “It is unlikely anything will be burnt unless I specifically asked for it, and then it would be under protest.”

  “No, that’s quite all right.” I shook my head emphatically. “Not-burned sounds good to me.” I looked up and gave him a teasing smile. “Mzatal, sit the hell down so we can all relax, okay?”

  He gave a slight nod and pulled the chair out. Finally.

  With that the mood eased enough for us to engage in some light conversation while we waited for the food. I told the others how Tessa and I always went to Lake o’ Butter pancake house the morning after Christmas, before hitting the stores for the day-after-Christmas sales. Idris told us about how his family had a tradition of getting together on Christmas eve, making cocoa, and taking turns at verses of Christmas carols with on-the-spot, fabricated lyrics. He grinned so much in telling the story—and during his rendition of a snortingly funny verse of Silent Night—that I knew he really considered them family, though they’d adopted him as a teen.

  Mzatal finished his wine and set the glass aside to be speedily refilled by Faruk. He reached into his pockets and pulled out two little boxes of delicately carved wood, then placed one before each of us. “I do greatly appreciate your work and your efforts.”

  I set my glass down, hesitated, then reached for the box and opened it. Inside was a ring. Uh oh. I slid a glance to Idris. With relief, I saw he had a ring, too, and with that the weirdness factor evaporated.

  Intrigued, I lifted the ring out of the box. Silver and gold interwove to form an intricate yet solid band, and a rich blue stone sparkled in the setting. I exhaled and lifted my gaze to Mzatal. “It’s beautiful,” I said, smiling. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome, Kara,” he said. “It suits you well.”

  Idris sat, stunned to silence, staring at his ring. His was silver and a dark grey metal, with a deep red stone. He looked up at Mzatal and back at the ring. “Holy shit,” he breathed, then looked up again, a smile lighting his face like a kid at, well, Christmas. “My lord, wow. Thank you,” he said and carefully removed it from the box.

  I wasn’t one to wear jewelry much, bu
t I knew I’d wear this. I slid it onto the middle finger of my right hand, instantly loving the look and feel of it. It wasn’t girly or prissy at all. It was almost like a man’s ring but for a woman—solid and strong, yet still utterly lovely. “Mzatal,” I said, guilt tugging at me, “I didn’t get you anything.”

  He shook his head, face betraying nothing of expectation or disappointment. “You did not know. Enjoy.”

  Idris, in his own world, slipped his ring on. “Holy fuck,” he said in an extended exhale. I grinned. Apparently he liked his ring.

  Jekki, Faruk, and two other faas brought the first wave of food. They burbled and fussed so much over everything, I had no doubt that they got a kick out of the whole concept.

  We settled into some serious eating. Mzatal sat and watched us with a small, steady smile on his face. He drank wine and picked at a plate of fruit, cheeses, and some sort of custard drizzled with what looked like honey, while Idris and I stuffed ourselves and swapped more silly Christmas stories. Gestamar listened and rumbled in reyza-laughter periodically.

  I’d had a little wine, and Mzatal was way too quiet. “Y’all ever have parties or celebrations here?” I asked him. “I mean back before the cataclysm, when there were more humans.”

  Mzatal twirled the stem of his glass between his fingers. “Yes,” he said with a slow contemplative nod. “In the atrium and the rooms that open from it.”

  I tilted my head and peered at him. “And what were those like? Did those seventeenth-century folks know how to get down?” I asked, grinning.

  Mzatal lifted an eyebrow and hesitated a second, likely reading the meaning of “get down” from me, then smiled. “They were lively indeed. I tended to observe from the mezzanine,” he said, his smile widening. “Unless, of course, a reveler caught my eye.”