Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian)

by Rowland, Diana

“If you meant us any harm at all, I’d know by now,” I reassured him. “It’s cool.”

  “Yeah,” he said, smiling wryly. “Can’t keep secrets around here, not with the lord.”

  I glanced out the window to where Mzatal ceaselessly traced sigils and worked the flows of the mini-nexus in his search for Idris. “Not a chance,” I said with a low snort. “This will be a big help to us. Thanks. We need this place secure as possible.”

  Bryce cleared his throat, took a breath as if to say something, then didn’t.

  I frowned. “Something on your mind?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “There is. You have a minute?”

  “Sure. How about we leave the luxury of the utility room and go out on the back porch.” I headed for the door. “I have chairs there, plus I can keep an eye on Jill’s new place in case she or the workers need anything.” I could also intercept anyone who headed toward Mzatal, though I suspected he had aversion wards set. To those without the ability to see arcane flows, Mzatal would appear to be engaged in graceful movement akin to T’ai Chi.

  Bryce followed me out, and we settled in the rocking chairs Ryan and Zack had assembled in my absence—after three years of the chairs’ remaining boxed and untouched in my shed. The heat and humidity were already rising, but for now it was still bearable enough to be outside.

  When I looked over at him, he seemed distant, troubled. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Nope,” he said, his face a grim mask. “Paul tracked what happened this morning. Did the body you find have prominent ligature marks on all limbs and neck, or only deep ones on wrists?”

  I frowned. “Wrists only.”

  He nodded. “Probably heavy bruising along the ribs under the arms on both sides and, if they were serious, flaying.” He delivered the description in an expressionless voice, eyes flat.

  I regarded him. “You know who did this. I mean, specifically which one of Farouche’s people.”

  “I’ve eaten lunch with him a hundred times.”

  I controlled a shiver of ick. Bryce met my eyes. “Kara, before any more time passes, I need to make sure you know exactly who you have in your house.”

  My brows lifted. “Did I miss a memo?”

  He rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Yesterday, before the lightning show, I was in there talking to Jill, watched a movie with her and got a chance to feel her baby kick. Then it hit me.” His throat worked. “She’s a cop. If she knew what I am, she wouldn’t be anywhere near me, especially with the baby. And Ryan, Zack, you. All cops. You did right by me, and you deserve to know who . . . what I am.”

  I shifted to face him more. Mzatal had been with him for two days in the demon realm, and I knew Bryce wouldn’t be here now if he was any sort of a threat to us. But it was clear he needed to come clean, and I could totally respect that. “All right. Tell me who I have in my house.”

  He took a deep breath. “About fifteen years ago I started in security and bodyguard duty with StarFire. Three years of clean work. Nothing that crossed any lines.” He looked away, then back to me, kept steady eye contact. “Twelve years ago I was . . . promoted. I’ve been over the line ever since.”

  I noted that he left out the leap from Veterinary Medicine to security. “You’ve killed people?” I asked, purposefully keeping my face as expressionless as his and my tone even.

  Bryce gave a micro nod worthy of Zack.

  “How many?”

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “Any of them in self-defense or defense of another?” Though the number shocked me, I kept my voice neutral.

  “Yes.” He shifted his weight in the chair.

  “Any of them straight up murder?”

  He drew a breath and reverted from speech to the micro nod.

  “Any of them outside of Farouche’s orders?”

  He blinked then answered with a strong, “No.” Pain swept over his face, and he shook his head. “Shit. Yes. The first. An accidental shooting.”

  I gave a neutral nod of acknowledgement. The roommate and friend, the one with the rottweiler. “Tell me about this promotion of yours.”

  His eyes went barren, empty. “I went from StarFire to Mr. Farouche’s inner circle. The rules changed. I never looked back. Couldn’t look back.”

  I gave my head a slight shake. “No. Tell me about it. Tell me how you were brought into his inner circle.” I held his eyes. “Tell me how you went from bodyguard to hit man.”

  “I—” he began then stopped, drew back. His expression grew haunted as though recalling a nightmare.

  Leaning closer, I softened my voice. “Bryce, take a deep breath and tell me.”

  He took a deep breath. “Kara, it was ugly, but it doesn’t change anything.”

  “Tell me.”

  Bryce clenched and unclenched his hands, fell silent for several seconds, then nodded, as if encouraging himself to go on. “Mr. Farouche called three of us out to the plantation for a promotion interview,” he began. “Me, Sonny—who wasn’t much older than Paul is now—and Owen, a friend who I’d worked with on lots of assignments. We went to a room where Mr. Farouche and McDunn—the one with the MAC-10 on the road—waited. They had a coworker, Ben Freeman, strung up by the wrists and in bad shape. Farouche said Ben had screwed up in a big way, and it was the perfect opportunity for us to demonstrate our loyalty and take care of him.”

  I pygahed to remain impassive.

  “The deal was for each of us to stab him, with me delivering the killing blow to the heart. McDunn held a knife out for Owen.” Bryce paused and drew a shaky breath. “Owen went white as a sheet, said he didn’t want a promotion. Before the rest of us could even blink, McDunn drew a Beretta 96 and shot him point blank in the forehead.”

  “Jesus,” I breathed. I tried to imagine being a street cop called in to the chief’s office along with some buddies and having one shot dead for refusing to murder a detective.

  “Owen had barely hit the floor when McDunn turned to Sonny and offered the knife to him,” Bryce continued, voice growing more strained. “Sonny was about to bolt. I could feel it. And I knew he was dead if he did. I put my hand on his shoulder.” He looked away. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  “Go on,” I said softly. I had a feeling he’d never told this to anyone before.

  After a moment, he gave himself another nod, looked back to me. “I knew that no matter what we did, Ben wasn’t walking out of there alive and, if we refused, neither were we. So I told Sonny to do it. I fucking told him to do it.”

  “And then you took your turn?”

  “Yeah.” His voice was bleak, and he didn’t elaborate.

  I sat back, regarding him, absolutely dying inside for what he’d gone through.

  “In the space of about a minute,” he continued, “I’d not only killed a man—a friend and co-worker—without even knowing why, but I’d also set Sonny up for an ugly life. I still wake up at night wondering if it would’ve been better for him to take a bullet quick and easy that day.” He exhaled, shook his head. “But that’s hindsight. In the moment, I thought we’d do what they wanted then find a way to get the hell away from Farouche. I had no idea that wasn’t going to be a possibility.”

  “Because of his influence, the fear and compulsion,” I said with an understanding nod. “I got a taste of that and was lucky enough to have friends to help clear it.”

  “Right. I didn’t understand it either, not until Elofir and Mzatal fixed it,” he said. “You felt it. Farouche has a way about him. He knows things he shouldn’t, couldn’t. Once he brings someone into the inner circle, any thought of crossing him in any way brings up unnatural, paralyzing fear. That’s mainly the people who do or know about his wet work and other illicit activities. It’s not like that for the rest of his employees and associates. Most of them absolutely fucking love the guy. I mean, totally devoted.”
>
  “Sounds like he can turn it both directions,” I said with a frown. “Gets his loyalty with fear or love.”

  “Yeah, that sounds right. Shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Now that his hold on me is gone, I look back and wonder how I could do what I did because of fear. I’m not afraid to die, but that motherfucker had me so terrified, I’d kill for him, execute for him.”

  I’d seen him take a bullet for Paul. He wasn’t lying about not being afraid to die. “Sonny’s been with you since the beginning of all this. You and Paul are close to him.”

  “Yeah.” Pain and regret shone in his eyes. “It’s hard on him. He’s a decent guy. I’d give anything to get him out of there.”

  I had a feeling he’d lay down his life if it meant Sonny could be free of Farouche. He carried the responsibility for what Sonny was now. “After we get Idris, maybe we can help make that happen.” I met his eyes. “Bryce, what you went through was utter shit. I have no problem with you being in this house. Do you have any problem being here?”

  His face grew hard, and I saw the killer in him plain as day. “Not unless you have a problem with me having one more mark on my hit list.”

  “No problem at all.” I knew exactly who he meant.

  “That’s dangerous thinking for a cop.”

  “I’m not a cop anymore.” I pushed down the ache that rose at the reminder.

  He gave me an oddly penetrating look. “Can you ever get away from being a cop, even if you aren’t carrying the badge?”

  Bryce sure as hell wasn’t a meathead thug. “No, not really. Not having the badge is like losing a bit of me.” I batted a mosquito away. “It’s stupid, and I know I’ll get over it, but being a cop was as much a part of me as the summoning.” I paused, then shook my head. “No, it was more. A lot more. I belonged. I was part of something. I felt like I could make a difference as a cop.” I blew out my breath. “The summoning was just a super cool thing I did. There wasn’t any particular reason behind it. Not until last year. Then everything changed once Rhyzkahl made an appearance.”

  He digested all of that, nodded. He looked calmer now, as if a weight had lifted from him. “Thanks for everything. And as long as we’re clear, I’m grateful to stay in your house.” His voice held a slight hitch. A lot of emotion lay beneath the tough guy exterior.

  “Glad that’s settled.” I slapped my hands on my thighs. “C’mon. Let’s grab whatever Jekki has on the stove, fire up the game system, and kill some aliens.”

  “You’re singing my tune,” he said with a smile.

  Chapter 26

  Half an hour later I’d been made into mincemeat by aliens more times than I could remember, and Bryce was back to himself again.

  Fuzzykins abruptly heaved her very pregnant butt onto the sofa and into Bryce’s lap. She hissed at me, then looked up at him with a Mrow?

  “Don’t be shy about moving her,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the feline. “She’s a persistent pest with people she likes. I’m not one of those. She’s Eilahn’s.”

  “I’m okay with her on me.” He scratched her head. “You don’t like cats?”

  “Cats don’t like me. They were fine when I was young, but hated me when I got older.” I shrugged, pushed down the bloom of regret. “Found out last year that it has something to do with being a summoner.” I glared at her in mock menace. “No great loss, you mangy beast.”

  Bryce gave a laugh. “Looks like you’re going to have a houseful soon.”

  I groaned at the thought, then felt Mzatal’s touch and smiled. “I have something to take care of,” I told him. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted and catch you a little later. Need to pick your brain a bit.”

  “Might be some slim pickings,” he said with a smile. “I’ll get started with some ideas for the camera system. It’ll keep me out of trouble.”

  • • •

  Mzatal knelt on the mini-nexus, head lowered and hands splayed in front of him as though sensing. A road atlas lay on the ground before him, open to a map of Texas. A faint tingle of potency flowed to him as he drew upon the resources of the convergence. I remained still and waited for him to complete whatever he was doing.

  After about a minute he lifted his head, gave me a smile. “Zharkat.”

  I gestured to the map. “Did you find something?”

  “Great disruption in the flows here,” he said as he traced a wide circle around the Austin area. “Precipitated by an event that occurred the same day you arrived back on Earth.”

  “Idris was near Austin when he called me,” I said, narrowing my eyes in speculation.

  Mzatal nodded. “I sense an echo of his arcane signature amidst the tangle of flows, yet I have not yet located the cause or point of origin of the event.” Frustration darkened his eyes, and I reached for his hand to give it an encouraging squeeze.

  “It’s still huge progress,” I told him, then smiled. “You’re too used to having the world at your fingertips in your plexus.”

  He exhaled, gave my hand a return squeeze. “Yes. Here, it is as if—” A whisper of amusement pierced the frustration. “It is as if I am forced to use a mere calculator after utilizing the full scope of the Internet.”

  I blinked at his use of such an Earth-centric analogy, then laughed. “You have been talking to Paul.”

  Mzatal’s mouth twitched in a faint smile. “He sought me out during one of his breaks when no others were awake, and I spent a pleasant hour conversing with him.”

  “Sounds like you needed the break as well.”

  “I did, though I knew it not at the time.” He touched the map before him. “Yet it was after I returned to my search that I found the trace that eventually led me to the disturbance.”

  “Excellent. I’m adding ‘Make Mzatal Take a Break’ to his job description.”

  The screech of a power tool had us both wincing. Mzatal glanced toward the mobile home and the workers then back to me. “Tell me of the events of the morning,” he said, expression serious again.

  “Farouche killed the trigger-happy security guard from the warehouse and dumped the body on Jill’s lawn a little after four a.m.,” I told him with a scowl. “He’s letting me know how tough he is and that he knows where my people are.” Anger swept through me again, but I didn’t pygah. I wanted to be mad about this crap for a while. “On the plus side, Jill’s finally agreed to move in.” I gestured toward the mobile home. “Of course now I’m worried about Tessa. Shit!” I smacked my forehead. “It’s been so crazy around here I totally forgot to tell you. I’m almost positive Tessa’s been manipulated.” I proceeded to fill him in on my odd visit with her and the way her responses felt programmed. His expression darkened as I spoke and was positively black by the time I reached the bit about Zack’s micro-nod confirmation that Tessa had spent time in the demon realm with Rhyzkahl.

  Though the anger on his face pretty much told me what I needed to know, I still had to ask. “Do you remember her being in the demon realm?”

  “No,” he replied. He stood, body stiff with tension. “However, with Katashi’s associations at that time, she could have been brought in undisclosed.”

  In other words, Katashi had been betraying Mzatal for over twenty years, at the very least. It made a sick sense. The other lords wouldn’t have been content to sit back and let Mzatal have full access to Katashi—the one summoner who pretty much controlled all the other summoners. Perhaps Katashi had been utterly loyal and well-intentioned at one time, but that wouldn’t have stopped the Mraztur. They would have found his weakness, his price, and done everything possible to swing his loyalty and cooperation to them.

  Not that it made a difference now, except to remind me that the Mraztur were playing a long game, and treachery could come from any direction.

  “Will you assess her and help me figure out what the hell happened?” I asked him.

/>   “Yes,” he replied, muscle in his jaw twitching. “We must go to her.”

  I put a hand to his cheek, gave him a reassuring smile as I silently willed him calm. “I’ll call her now.” I pulled my phone from my pocket as I stepped a few feet away.

  Tessa answered on the second ring. “Hello, sweetie!”

  “Hello, yourself,” I said, smiling at the buoyant sound of her voice. “Are you at home? I’d like to swing by for a bit.”

  “Nope,” she said, sounding a bit breathless. “I’m at the airport boarding my plane.”

  Worry spiked. “Airport? Why? Where are you going?”

  “Aspen with the old man for a few days,” she told me. “He surprised me with a trip. It’s been a whirlwind to get ready, but I’m not complaining!”

  “Why Aspen?” I asked, baffled. “Ski season is over. And why didn’t you call me?”

  She laughed. “No skiing, sweetling. Perhaps some hiking instead. Aspen is beautiful this time of year. Hold on,” she said followed by scuffling noises that sounded like her getting situated in her seat. “I haven’t had a minute to call between packing and getting the staffing sorted out at the store. I was going to call as soon as I got to Colorado.”

  I silently cursed. “Will you still do that, please? I want to know you made it there safely.”

  “Are you okay?” she asked. “You sound frazzled.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot of shit going on. You don’t need to worry.” There was no point ruining her vacation. The manipulation had been around for twenty years. A few more days wouldn’t make a difference. Besides, it was turning out to be a decent scenario. No way would I be able to convince her to move into the relative safety of my house any time soon, and she’d be safer in Aspen—away from home and the crap going down here in Louisiana. “Mzatal’s here and I wanted you to meet him. When are you coming back?”

  More scuffling around. “Next Sunday. Will he still be there?”

  She asked it as casually as if he was a visitor from Miami rather than the demon realm. “I honestly don’t know.”