Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian)

by Rowland, Diana

  There didn’t seem to be any point in trying to get up with the ground still shaking, though Mzatal continued to dance the shikvihr as if nothing was amiss. Even if I hadn’t been able to see him, I’d have known he was there. His aura pulsed and flared like heat from an active volcano. Paul knelt a few feet behind him, his focus on his tablet. Mzatal completed the final sigil and ignited the full ritual, and I sucked in a breath as its power filled me in a delicious torrent through our connection.

  “Kara!” Paul’s voice crackled in my ear, excited and nervous. “Sonny and Bryce are clear. Mama’s out the back fence, across the bayou, and away. Still no sign of Zack. Ryan’s going to wait where he is in case Zack comes back, and Bryce will be heading our way momentarily.”

  “Got it,” I replied.

  The jackhammer feel suddenly stopped, only to be replaced by the madly uncomfortable sensation of too much pressure, as if I was a hundred feet underwater. I dug my fingers into the grass, and a heartbeat later the pressure seemed to reverse, and I felt as if I was going to float away while my eardrums threatened to burst. Mzatal called to me, touched me through our connection, and I returned the touch, assuring him I was okay.

  “Node is open!” Paul cried out, tinny and distant. “Node is open!”

  I gripped the grass hard as I looked up and over at the gazebo. Tendrils of potency like vines of shimmering blue light flowed out of the center, twining up and over the structure until the whole thing glowed. It flared in an arcane blaze, and in the next breath a concussive blast ripped the gazebo apart and sent debris flying in all directions. I yelped and ducked my head down, glad that I was already prone. Rubble from the columns and shards of slate rained down around me, but the force of the blast left nothing big enough to cause me any significant damage.

  “Paul! Idris!” I yelled, though my voice sounded distant to my own hearing. I swallowed to pop my ears and tried again. “Paul!” Peeking up, I tried to assess. No gazebo anymore, only bases of the columns like jagged teeth on the stone platform, and rubble scattered like gravel far across the lawn. Ice clutched at my chest. Idris. He’d been right there in the middle of that huge blast. “Paul! Are y’all okay? Answer me!”

  Mzatal got to his feet, expression hard, and his shikvihr still intact and glowing brightly in othersight. Static buzzed in my ears. “Yeah.” Paul’s voice crackled and popped through a suddenly horrible connection. “I think. Yeah.” Now I saw him about five feet behind Mzatal, struggling upright, his tablet clutched to his chest.

  “Stay down, Paul,” I ordered, relieved to see him comply. The comms were in bad shape, but at least they hadn’t been knocked out entirely. My gaze swept the area and finally rested on the sprawled form of Idris about halfway between my position and the node. “I see Idris,” I said, voice shaky with relief. “He’s down, but breathing, and I don’t see any blood.” Though the blast had been a fierce combination of physical and arcane power, I stubbornly clung to the hope that he was merely stunned. After a few more seconds of searching, I located Asher lying face down on the bank of the lake, lower legs in the water. Maybe the lake had leeches. That would be cool.

  Though a good half of the floodlights were dying in impressive showers of sparks, I caught sight of Farouche standing on the veranda above the steps with his bodyguard, Angus McDunn, right beside him. McDunn touched Farouche’s arm, spoke to him, and Farouche responded with a tight nod. I imagined it was something like, We need to get off the veranda while weird and dangerous shit is happening, since Farouche turned, and the two disappeared into the house.

  I returned my full attention to the node. No longer a low, compact arcane weave, it rose a dozen feet above the platform, a disturbing column of potency that oscillated from blinding rainbow light to the utter blackness of the void. The ground shuddered and an eerie whine issued from the node. In the next heartbeat the whine crescendoed and then died as Rhyzkahl stepped out of that column of power, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breath, though appearing collected and confident otherwise.

  My eyes went to Xhan in his right hand. The lurid red of rakkuhr wrapped around the essence blade and up Rhyzkahl’s forearm. My lips pulled back from my teeth as I dug my fingers hard into the ground and tried to clench my hands into fists. “Rhyzkahl’s here. Paul, stay down and behind Mzatal.”

  “Mzatal says—I don’t know what he means,” Paul said, and I heard the stress in his voice even through the static. “Says no rules here and no way to contain Rhyzkahl? Shit!” Static filled the connection for several seconds as the node flared. “Says must incapacitate. Engaging.”

  Cursing, I pushed up to hands and knees, easier now that the ground wasn’t shaking and nothing was blowing up. “As soon as Rhyzkahl is occupied, I’m going to get Idris and drag him over your way.” Mzatal needed me by him for combat support and so that his attention wouldn’t be split. In my peripheral vision, I saw Rhyzkahl tracing protections as he stepped off the gazebo platform and toward Mzatal.

  I made it to my feet and began a slightly unsteady dash toward the sluggishly moving Idris. A heartbeat later a reyza appeared beside Rhyzkahl, spread his wings and bellowed. Not quite as large as Gestamar but formidable none the less.

  “He called Pyrenth through!” I steadied my legs, but almost stumbled as the node whined. Another lord stepped from it, fierce smile and aura like a jungle cat on the hunt. “Jesral.”

  “Oh, shit,” Paul breathed through the static. “Got it.”

  Jesral took a step, staggered a bit, then shook his head as if to clear it and get his bearings. Had the sly lord ever been to Earth before? If not, I was ready to welcome him with a good hard kick in the balls.

  I took a second to make sure Jesral’s attention was on Mzatal rather than me, then sprinted to Idris and did a super-quick injury check to make sure I wasn’t going to damage him irreparably by moving him. He was breathing easily, and I didn’t see gushing blood or protruding bones—though he had a glassy-eyed look of shock and a shitload of little blisters, likely an arcane affect of the blast. I flinched as the first potency strike of the battle burst with an ear-splitting crack. Heart thudding, I seized the back of Idris’s collar and began hauling him toward Mzatal and Paul. Easier said than done. Idris was a solid chunk of muscle, which made for a lot of dead weight. I sure as hell wouldn’t think of him as a kid ever again.

  He let out a low groan, then began to thrash, disoriented. He was still too out of it to get free of me, but it made dragging him about ten times as hard. “Stop struggling, Idris!” I panted, holding on with both hands as I backed toward friendly lines. “Holy shit, how much do you fucking weigh?”

  Pyrenth bellowed again, then bounded in my direction. Adrenaline dumped hard into my system as two things became crystal clear: Pyrenth would reach me in about five seconds and, unless I did something quick and decisive, he was going to recapture both Idris and me for Rhyzkahl.

  I’ll never be me again! The terrifying thought surged through me in a flash. The rakkuhr virus held that potential. Rhyzkahl was a certainty. No time for my gun, and it wouldn’t be enough to stop the reyza anyway. In the instant I had to react, I realized I had only one possible course of action. I released my grip on Idris’s collar, jerked my hand up into the air and called Vsuhl to me.

  In the next heartbeat Pyrenth was on me, clawed hand reaching to grasp and hold. But I’d practiced with Gestamar in all sorts of close-quarter fighting, and knew the balance points and the weak spots. As the blade coalesced in my hand, I snapped out a side kick into his hip, throwing him off balance enough for me to evade his grab. Moreover, it shifted his unprotected chest toward my right. Letting out a guttural cry, I took advantage of the instant of vulnerability, surged forward and buried Vsuhl to the hilt in Pyrenth’s chest.

  He let out an agonized bellow and staggered back. The blade’s approval whispered through my mind as it made its insidious presence known. The hilt wrenched from my hand
even though my grip on it was solid, almost as if it clung to Pyrenth’s flesh. Breathing hard in triumph, I watched him go to his knees and scrabble at the hilt. I’d taken one opponent out of the game, and dying on Earth simply meant he’d most likely return to the demon realm.

  Except . . . this didn’t look like the other times I’d seen demons die here. There was no light spilling through the wound, no ripping crack or the smell of ozone and sulfur.

  Pyrenth was bleeding.

  Sick horror formed a knot in my gut. I moved forward and seized Vsuhl’s hilt. The blade howled in protest as I yanked it free, and it seemed to require ten times the effort it should have. Yet then I could only stare for several eternal seconds at the blood that spilled down Pyrenth’s broad chest.

  “I don’t understand,” I croaked out. I dropped my eyes to the blade in my hand, felt and heard it urge more more more, then returned my gaze to Pyrenth. He sagged to his side, his expression calm, relaxed. He might have looked peaceful if not for the blood that bubbled from his mouth and darkened his fangs.

  “Well . . . played,” Pyrenth breathed.

  The fighting continued around me as I struggled to understand. I felt Mzatal’s focus on me, his insistence that I banish Vsuhl. Felt him take a strike for his distraction. I dimly noted that another concussion rocked the lawn, though not as severe as the first. Paul was shouting something in my earpiece, and it took me several seconds to comprehend the words.

  “Kara! Mzatal says to send the blade away! Send the blade away! Jesral!”

  I jerked my gaze up and saw Jesral’s eyes locked on the blade and me. Quickly, I banished the blade, and briefly reveled in the look of rage that came over him before I returned my attention to Pyrenth.

  “I don’t understand,” I repeated, almost desperately. “I only meant to send you back to the demon realm!”

  His lips pulled back from his teeth in a reyza smile. “Vsuhl. Takes all. Gives no mercy,” he rumbled, so low I doubted anyone else could hear him.

  “Yaghir tahn,” I said, throat clogging. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .”

  “Kahl dar,” he said. “Juntek lakuna jaik. Srah lorvahlo. Haakir.”

  I understood him. Or at least the basic meaning—perhaps because of the whisper of the grove I felt through the open node. All is well. I finished with honor. Well played. Then he drew a deeper breath, let it out, and was still.

  Guilt and sorrow clawed at me, sharpened by a scalding wash of Rhyzkahl’s anger over the death of his reyza. This was not at all how I wanted revenge against Rhyzkahl. Never like this. I dragged a hand over my face, and it came away wet with tears.

  “Kara!” Paul shouted though the earpiece.

  I forced myself back to the present. Rhyzkahl and Mzatal were deeply engaged in arcane battle. Jesral took a step toward me, then staggered back as Mzatal cast a heavy strike his way.

  The ground shook again. I spun to see Idris stagger to his feet, swaying, eyes still seeming somewhat unfocused. Baring my teeth, I channeled my guilt into rage that I’d been forced into murdering Pyrenth. Yet with the rage came hurt and disappointment with Mzatal. Why didn’t he warn me? If he’d given me any training with the blade, like I’d asked him to, this wouldn’t have happened.

  I seized the front of Idris’s shirt. “Come on!” I snarled, then had to yank him off balance as he resisted, disoriented enough that even Farouche’s mild influence had him fighting me. “Idris. It’s me, Kara. We’re going to Mzatal.”

  He took a ragged breath and stopped pulling at my hand. “Kara! I’m . . . okay,” he gasped even though clearly he wasn’t. Wild confusion filled his eyes, and he shook from the arcane and physical damage from the blast.

  “Sure you are, big guy,” I said, gritted my teeth, and ran-dragged him back toward Mzatal. Yet my thoughts kept circling back to Pyrenth. I’d killed a sentient creature. All these years of being a cop, and this was my first true kill.

  But I had no choice, I realized with sick certainty. Training with the blade wouldn’t have changed my choice in that instant. No way could I have reached my gun quickly enough, and the chances of stopping him with a .32 were slim. If I hadn’t used Vsuhl on Pyrenth, Idris and I would be prisoners of the Mraztur again. Yet knowing it was justified didn’t ease the guilt one bit.

  The node whined. “Three lords, Kara! Another just came through!” Paul’s voice, shot through with static and agitation.

  “Three!” Shit. “Black hair or blond?” I snapped, too focused on keeping Idris upright and moving to look for myself.

  “Black.”

  “That’s Amkir,” I replied through gritted teeth as Idris began to balk again. “The King of the Assholes.”

  “Gotcha, Kara. Bryce is near the Ops building and moving your way to help you.”

  Idris abruptly gave a low cry and yanked back hard against my grasp. Cursing, I swept his leg and dumped him to the ground, then dropped down with a knee on his chest. He gave a whoosh of expelled air as I’d intended, and as he gasped for new breath I seized his arm and rolled him face down then held him in an arm-lock as I looked for Bryce.

  To my relief, he was almost to me. He quickly closed the distance, scanning for threats as he pulled zip-ties from his belt and efficiently bound Idris’s wrists and ankles. A potency-burn marked the left side of Bryce’s face—an angry stripe of raw flesh from his temple to his jaw line. Othersight revealed a vicious little coil of potency clinging like napalm to his cheek.

  “Hold still,” I ordered, then unwound and dispelled the thing.

  “Thanks. Caught the edge of a blast,” he said. “Was wondering why it still burned. I’ll get Idris behind our lines,” he continued, clipped and efficient. “Mzatal needs you now. His attention is divided with you out here.”

  I knew it to be true. Leaving Idris to Bryce’s care, I sprinted to a spot about ten feet behind and to the left of Mzatal. His braid swung in a rhythmic pattern as he engaged all three enemy lords, essence blade in hand—shielding, striking, and deflecting in a beautiful and deadly dance. Paul knelt on the ground to his right, fingers dancing over the tablet, eyes unfocused. I didn’t see Ryan or Zack anywhere, and could only hope they were okay.

  A strike from Rhyzkahl rocked Mzatal’s shielding, and its residue peppered me like wind-blown sand. Turning to face the enemy, I sought to tap into Mzatal’s pattern. Yet the link that had been as easy as taking his hand evaded me now, with his movement and weaving of flows seeming more like a random jumble of sigils and potency.

  I shook my head sharply. Pyrenth’s death had me badly rattled. I’ll angst later, I railed at myself, then pygahed, inhaled deeply, and once more tried to focus. What was I trying to focus on? I looked around, confused.

  “Kara!”

  I jerked as Paul shouted from nearby, his voice also cutting through the static in the earpiece.

  Shit. The virus. “Kara,” I confirmed through gritted teeth. Now I sank into the link, echoing and amplifying Mzatal’s dance with my own. I felt a deep touch from him—reassurance and stability. I returned it with one of my own and used his support and confidence to solidify my center.

  The Earth flows seemed to bend toward us, enabling Mzatal to merely extend slightly in order to tap them. Curious, I tried to see why, then nearly fell over in shock as I found the answer: Paul. Somehow, he was nudging and adjusting the flows to give us that slight advantage. Hell, more than slight. I doubted Jesral and Amkir had any experience tapping the relatively weak Earth flows, so for Paul to divert what little was available to them would be like replacing their bullets with paint balls.

  A smile curved my mouth as I wove my touches into our offense. No wonder Mzatal liked Paul so much.

  Bryce loped behind our lines with the zip-tied Idris over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, then carefully deposited him on the ground. I continued to enhance Mzatal’s patterns, yet even with my supp
ort and Paul’s, I felt him weakening.

  Mzatal deflected a hard strike, though the edges of it licked within his protections. He shifted, stepped back, and in that instant of movement Rhyzkahl lunged forward and sent a hammering blow into Mzatal’s shields. The shock of it slammed through us both. Mzatal stumbled back another step before recovering, breathing hard while Rhyzkahl smiled in triumph.

  “Fuck this,” I muttered, then yanked my gun out of the thigh holster and fired three shots at Rhyzkahl. I knew he was shielded, but maybe it would distract him a little. Plus, it felt good to shoot at him.

  As expected, the bullets stopped an arms length from him, then dropped to the grass in molten puddles of lead. His gaze snapped to me, and if anything his expression grew more triumphant. “Rowan.”

  I stiffened as the name struck me like a fist, drove through my mind. I felt as though the earth tipped, lost my footing. Rowan?

  “Kara!” Paul shouted in my ear as Mzatal spoke the name to my essence.

  I sucked in a breath. Kara. Lifting my chin, I shook off the horrible feeling. I’m Kara, and he’s a parasite. I shoved the gun into its holster and continued to work Mzatal’s pattern.

  He took another hard strike from Amkir, but riposted with a barrage of arcane spears, so quickly that I knew he’d allowed the strike. I understood Mzatal’s purpose, that he preyed upon the inexperience the others had with the Earth flows. Amkir let out a choked cry and stumbled back to fall sprawled on the grass. Immediately, Mzatal blanketed him in potency, pinning him to the ground and effectively taking him out of the fight, at least for the moment.

  Without a pause in his flow, Mzatal deflected two strikes from Rhyzkahl, then blasted Jesral off balance and cast a constricting net of potency around him.

  Another small concussion rippled across the lawn, joined by a rumble of thunder. I jerked my attention to the node.

  “Ah shit,” I breathed.