Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian)

by Rowland, Diana

  Paul laughed and sent, Bryce needs to talk to you, and we both want to see you. We want to meet.

  Another eternity of waiting, this one far longer than thirty seconds. Or even a few minutes. Bryce began to look a little antsy, and I struggled not to fidget. Paul finally looked up at Bryce, his face worried and sad.

  “Give him a little more time,” Bryce told Paul. “This is a big deal.” Through the tension in his voice I heard the acknowledgement of the other possibility—that Sonny was informing Farouche.

  The instant the words left his mouth the tablet pinged, and Paul lit up again. “Where? When?”

  I heaved a big sigh of relief. It didn’t mean he hadn’t warned Farouche, but at least he was still communicating. “Bryce, they probably track the cars, right?” At his nod, I continued, “Where’s someplace he usually goes that wouldn’t raise suspicions?”

  “The Beaulac Nature Center,” he said without hesitation. “He goes there to chill and spend time alone.”

  It took several more texts to sort the details out since we had to consider what time would be best for Sonny and to arouse the least suspicion on his end. Moreover, we needed time to prepare.

  At long last the plans were set—a nice casual meeting between good friends at the remote Nature Center at four p.m. Nice and friendly. No pressure. Only one slightly dastardly plan to kidnap him.

  “Let’s hope he comes through for us,” I said and glanced at my watch. Two hours until the meeting.

  Time to start moving our pieces into place.

  Chapter 36

  Once again our trek through the back woods and over the fence went without a hitch, though this time instead of a rental SUV, the fed boys waited for us in their Impalas. Eilahn muttered something in demon that included kiraknikahl as she passed Ryan’s car on her way to Zack’s, but at least she didn’t snarl. That was progress.

  Zack greeted me with a brilliant smile that felt just as much Zakaar’s. “Well, sheriff,” he said in an accent worthy of an old Western movie, “I reckon we better git the posse saddled up and hit the trail.”

  I grinned. “At least you made me the sheriff.”

  He winked, then slid behind the wheel of his car. “I considered you for the saloon girl part, but you can be a bit bristly at times.”

  “Bristly?” I laughed. “Is that what you call it?”

  “When I’m being polite,” he replied, and with that we loaded up the two cars and made our way to the rendezvous with Sonny.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, as we pulled into the Nature Center’s empty parking lot. The air held the heavy feel of impending rain, lending an ominous atmosphere to our surroundings as we exited the cars and did a careful look-around. Even on the best of days the Beaulac Nature Center—also known as the Crappy Trail Through Mosquito-Infested Swamp and Woods—wasn’t a big draw, but the hot, muggy afternoon coupled with the promise of a thunderstorm added an extra layer of deterrent.

  Worked for me. The last thing we wanted was bystanders, though I hoped the rain would hold off until we were finished here.

  Eilahn slipped into the woods and was out of view within seconds. Mzatal stood motionless, assessing, then gave me a nod. “No other humans or demons are near,” he assured me.

  “Awesome.” I turned and gave Zack and Ryan a thumbs-up.

  “Text when you’re done,” Ryan called through the open window, then he and Zack drove off.

  I swept my gaze over the Plexiglas-covered map of the trails and the weathered shack that made up the Center. The last time I’d been here was to work the murder scene of one of Tracy Gordon’s victims, sacrificed as a crude means for him to locate a valve in the area. And only a few days later Mzatal and Idris finally managed to summon me to the demon realm.

  I’ve changed a teensy bit since then.

  I checked my watch. “Forty-five minutes ’til showtime,” I said.

  Bryce shook his head. “Sonny’ll be here early. Best to get in position.” He didn’t wait for me to give assent or comment and headed down the trail in long strides.

  Paul chuckled under his breath. “He’ll never admit it,” he murmured to me as we followed Bryce, “but he actually really enjoys the planning and tactics side of things.” He smiled at the older man’s back. “I think it’s like a puzzle for him. It tweaks that logic center in his brain.”

  “And I’m damn glad to let him plan his little heart out,” I replied with a smile.

  About a hundred yards in, the trail opened into a clearing with a few decrepit tables and moss-covered concrete barbeque pits. Beyond, the trail continued to an equally poorly kept deck over the swamp.

  Bryce and Paul settled at a table they proclaimed to be Sonny’s favorite, while Mzatal strode directly to the valve near the edge of the clearing and crouched, frowning. I moved to stand behind him as he worked his hands in slow, precise arcs over the valve. Othersight revealed an odd fraying of the twisted potency strands that formed the perimeter of the valve, like braids of rope that had been overstressed.

  I set my hand on his shoulder. “What’s up?”

  Mzatal’s frown deepened as he continued to work, and I noted the frays smoothing. “Tampering,” he said. “The primary node has been touched from the demon realm side.”

  “Touched?” My eyes narrowed. “You mean something’s been pushed through it?”

  “Nothing has come through this one recently,” he told me. “I feel Rhyzkahl’s resonance, and there is a distortion I do not understand. You see the damage. There has been stress on the structure.” He passed his hands over the valve once more then stood and took my hand. “The man approaches.” He paused, his eyes distant. “He is alone.”

  Mzatal and I quickly moved into the underbrush to crouch not far off the trail. Though Mzatal’s initial proposal had been to simply net Sonny in potency at the first sign of resistance, I’d managed to argue the lord down to a somewhat less traumatic option, in which we would simply block Sonny’s retreat, leaving potency-netting as an absolute last resort.

  Within minutes, I heard the whisper of shoes on damp pine needles, and I peered between the leaves toward the sound. A Hispanic-featured man about five-foot-ten of medium build made his way down the path toward us. I recognized him as one of Farouche’s gunmen, though instead of a suit he had on jeans and a navy blue t-shirt. If I hadn’t known what to look for, I’d have missed the slight bulge of his shirt where an inside-the-waistband holster held his gun.

  His face broke into a cautious smile as he came within sight of Bryce and Paul, but as he came abreast of us he faltered and stopped. His eyes flicked left and right in wary alarm, and he slipped his hand under his shirt to rest on his gun.

  Mzatal’s aura, I realized with a silent curse. Sonny felt something was off.

  Bryce stood. “Sonny, it’s okay. I promise,” he said with quiet but firm assurance. “Please, we need to talk.”

  At Bryce’s words, a wild fear lit Sonny’s eyes—Farouche’s influence, I knew all too well. He shook his head and took a step back. “I . . . can’t,” he said, voice tight and strained, even as crushing disappointment twisted his features. “I’m sorry,” he gasped out and spun to leave.

  In two quick strides I crashed through the brush and onto the trail to block his retreat. “Wait. Please.” I held my hands out to show they were empty. “We’re here with Bryce and Paul to help you.”

  Sonny stopped, hand still on his gun, though he didn’t make a move to draw it. I remained still, secure in the faith that Eilahn and Mzatal were poised and ready in case Sonny tried to do anything foolish. He puffed out quick, adrenaline-fueled breaths, and I didn’t need to be a mind reader to understand his distress at being lured into a trap, especially one contrary to Farouche’s interests. Sonny shifted, eyes flicking from me to Bryce and then widening on Mzatal as he stepped onto the path.

  Bryce moved toward
us slowly. “Sonny, it’s okay. We’re going to help you. I swear.”

  “Bryce, goddammit,” Sonny said, voice hoarse with a barely controlled panic. “You know I gotta get out of here. You know it. Fuck! You set me up.” Pain overshadowed the fear on his last words. “How could you do that?”

  “It’s not what you think,” Bryce said, voice and manner calm and cool. “Look, we can get you out, get you away from Mr. Farouche. Lord Mzatal helped me and Paul, and he’s agreed to help you, too.”

  Hope flared on Sonny’s face for a blinding instant before the fear eclipsed it again. A choking sob welled in his throat even as his hand twitched on his gun.

  Shit. This was going to require a lot more than talk. Sonny had been driving under the influence of Farouche for a long damn time.

  Even as I thought it, Mzatal moved toward him. Sonny drew his gun but fumbled it under the crush of Mzatal’s full-on aura. He staggered back as the lord advanced, caught his foot on a root and fell hard, then crab-scuttled backwards a few feet until brought up short by the trunk of a pine.

  He stared up at Mzatal, eyes wild and panicked. Mzatal crouched smoothly and clamped his hands around Sonny’s head, and in the next instant Sonny’s mouth dropped open, and he went completely still.

  “I will clear enough of the fear for him to productively interact,” Mzatal told me, then focused his full attention on the man in his grasp.

  Step one accomplished, and no one got shot, I thought with relief as I picked up the dropped gun and handed it off to Bryce. He checked it, tucked it into his waistband and stood silently, watching Mzatal work. Paul stood near the table, naked worry on his face, his tablet clutched to his chest like a security blanket. I kept an eye on the trail toward the parking lot in case any nature lovers decided to wander our way. This would be an interesting tableau to explain.

  Mzatal finally straightened and stepped back. Sonny remained pressed back against the tree like a trapped animal, but the crazed and unnatural fear no longer filled his eyes.

  “Come on, Sonny,” I said as I held my hand down to him. “Let’s talk.”

  He blinked, looked from me to Bryce, then back to my hand. After a moment’s hesitation, he took it and stood. “What the hell?”

  I gave him a reassuring smile. “Lord Mzatal cleared some of the abnormal fear Farouche instilled in you,” I told him. “I’m Kara Gillian. It’s good to finally meet you.”

  “She’s not kidding,” Bryce added. “I’m free of him. Really free. You can be, too.”

  “I don’t get it,” Sonny said, doubt paired with unmistakable hope in his voice. “How?”

  I hooked a thumb toward the picnic table. “How about we sit down and talk. There’s a lot we need to cover.”

  “Talk. Yeah. Okay.” He moved toward the table with me as though in a weird dream, gave a flickering smile to Paul. “Hey, kid. Ugly as ever.”

  Paul grinned, joy and relief bright in his eyes. “Hey, Sonny. Still a total pain in the ass.”

  Bryce followed. “All I’m asking is that you listen to what Kara has to say,” he said to Sonny. “You make your own decisions after that.”

  Sonny regarded Bryce for a long moment, then gave a nod and sank onto the bench. I sat opposite him and, with Bryce’s help to fill in the gaps, quickly offered a thumbnail of who we were and why Mzatal was there, then moved on to how Farouche was holding people who we wanted back. When I finished, I took a deep breath and spread my hands out on the rough surface of the picnic table. “The bottom line is, do you want our help to get away from Farouche?”

  Sonny swallowed, nodded. “I want out. I gotta get out.”

  “Then we’ll make that happen,” I assured him. “First, Lord Mzatal has to finish clearing the hold that Farouche has on you. Once that’s done, we can talk more.”

  A flicker of fear touched Sonny’s eyes, and Bryce reached across the table and put a hand on his arm. “Sonny, look at me,” he said firmly. “Look at Paul. You know damn well I couldn’t have set up something like this while under Farouche’s influence.” He let that sink in for a few seconds. “It works. We’re really free of him.”

  “It’s true,” Paul confirmed with an emphatic nod.

  Sonny rubbed a hand over his face as if checking to make sure he wasn’t daydreaming. “Uh, sure.” He looked around, glassy-eyed. “All right. What do I need to do?”

  “Just relax,” I said.

  Mzatal moved behind Sonny, laid his hands on his head. Sonny’s face went slack except for a crooked smile, as if he was enjoying some great painkillers. Paul gravely lifted his tablet and took a picture of his expression, and Bryce laughed.

  “Blackmail,” Paul told me with a wink.

  I smiled, even more pleased about the decision to get Sonny out. These men were obviously friends as well as coworkers, and now I saw that another layer of tension had peeled away from Bryce and Paul. Leave no man behind, I thought with satisfaction.

  After another few minutes, Mzatal stepped back, and Sonny lost the good-drugs look.

  “How do you feel?” I asked as Mzatal returned to his position behind me.

  “Okay, I guess,” Sonny said, though he didn’t seem very certain of it.

  “Now think about leaving Farouche’s employment.”

  Fear flickered in his eyes for an instant in pure ingrained reflex, then his mouth dropped open. “That’s . . . impossible.”

  “It’s normal,” I corrected.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Bryce added.

  “Now for part two,” I said. “And I’m sorry to forge ahead so quickly, but we’re hoping you can help us.” I gave him a second to acknowledge with a nod. “Bryce says you’re taking care of Angela Palatino.”

  “I am. She’s at the plantation.” He flinched, as if expecting lightning to strike him for saying something so directly against Farouche’s interests then visibly forced himself to relax.

  “She’s the mother of Idris Palatino, a friend of ours,” I told him, “and she’s being held as hostage to help ensure his cooperation.”

  His mouth twisted. “I had a feeling it was something like that. Orders were to treat her well and tell her nothing.”

  I leaned forward. “Here’s the kicker,” I said. “We have reason to believe Idris will be brought to the plantation within the next two days. Do you know anything about that?”

  Sonny pursed his lips, then tipped his wrist to check his watch. “Nigel Fox and Mystery Man Twenty-two were supposed to land about half an hour ago at a private strip not far from the plantation.” He glanced back up. “Escorting a package. That could be your Idris.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathed as Mzatal’s intensity flared behind me like summer heat off pavement. And Mystery Man Twenty-two is Aaron Asher. My pulse thudded in a mixture of shock, excitement, and victory. It’s not a victory yet, I reminded myself. Not even close. We didn’t even know if the package was really Idris.

  I forced myself to chill. “That leads right in to what I have to ask you. However, I want to be totally clear right up front: You can absolutely say no. We won’t coerce or guilt trip you.”

  The skin around Sonny’s eyes tightened. “Say no to what?”

  “We have a couple of plans,” I said. “One of them,” and the best one, I added silently, “needs someone on the inside to help us.” I watched him carefully. I was basically asking him to walk into a dragon’s lair and punch the dragon in the balls.

  He went still, barely breathing. For a good ten seconds he let that sink in before he stood up, eyes on Bryce and gave a head jerk away from the table. Bryce slid a glance to me then retreated about twenty feet away with Sonny. Paul seemed oblivious to their departure, his attention fully on his tablet, earbuds in, and his eyes with the familiar distant and glazed look that said he was in deep.

  Mzatal shifted behind me and murmured, “Sonny Ortiz can be
manipulated to cooperate fully.”

  I actually considered it for about two seconds. It would be so damn easy. “No, Boss. He can’t.” I sighed and glanced back at him. “We’d be no different than Farouche. If Sonny doesn’t agree to do it, we’ll find another way.” I understood why he proposed it. Manipulation was a tool at his disposal, one that would bring him closer to Idris, but I made sure my views and feelings about this were easy for him to read. And, to his credit, I felt Mzatal receive my input and accept it. Good enough for now.

  Yet I had to control a shiver at the reminder of how dangerous the lords could be to humans. An instant later, I felt Mzatal’s hand on my shoulder. He was willing to resist those ingrained patterns of demonic lord behavior, at least in this moment. I covered his hand with my own, deeply appreciating that he made the effort.

  “It’s him!” Paul looked up from the tablet and gave a triumphant smile. “Sonny’s right. Idris came in with Fox and Asher. Both of Big Mack’s jets are in their hangars, so I broadened the scope. Found a Gulfstream G650 belonging to a business associate of B.M.’s that landed at the private strip half an hour ago. No video, but I caught Idris’s name in a phone call. He’s at the plantation.”

  I stared for a second, processing not only the confirmation of our suspicion, but the magnitude of Paul’s talent. “You have successfully kicked all the ass,” I said. “Hot damn. That seals it.”

  Paul grinned, then glanced over at Bryce and Sonny as they returned to the table. Sonny still looked dazed, but there was a determined set to his mouth. Bryce met my eyes and gave a slight nod.

  The two sat again, and Sonny cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he said. “I can do it. I need to do it.”

  I drew breath to respond, even as Paul whooped and shot to his feet.

  “You’re the best, Sonny!” he exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement. “All you have to do is go to the server room by the security station and disconnect my firewall of doom from behind the third rack of servers and plug in a dongle I have all ready to go. Then I can run all sorts of interference, kill their comms, and totally rule the plantation so Lord Mzatal can come in blazing!”