Mark of the Demon (Kara Gillian 1)

I nodded and sat down. “None of these victims died nicely or quickly. It’s as if he wanted them to be in as much agony as possible.”

“Or as much fear as possible,” he said quietly.

I looked at him. “Or both.” We locked eyes for a moment and then I broke first, pulling my gaze away and clearing my throat. “Anyway, the previous detective wasn’t able to find a link between the victims, other than the fact that they’re all the type who aren’t missed.” I grimaced. “But I’m not sure how hard he tried.”

“You haven’t found a link either,” Harris interjected, and I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a challenge.

“No,” I replied as evenly as I could. “But I’ve had the case for only two weeks.”

“I’m sure you’re doing your best,” he replied, and once again I wasn’t sure if he was being understanding or condescending.

I decided not to take issue with it. The rest of the meeting was uneventful and, to my relief, actually worthwhile. The agents had the potential to be patronizing and annoying, but they also had significant training and access to greater resources than did my dinky little department. Even Harris had some useful input, once he stopped being obnoxious and belittling.

This is cool, I thought, even though I didn’t hold out a lot of hope for success in a mundane route. But, then again, with the murders coming so quickly now, maybe he would slip up and make a mistake. If we have that time. I rubbed my temples. I couldn’t shake the growing certainty that he was preparing for something big.

“Detective Gillian?” Agent Kristoff’s voice broke through my train of thought. I sighed and looked up at him. To my surprise, I saw that the others had already left. I’d been so absorbed that I hadn’t even noticed. “You know this murderer better than any of us,” he continued. “Do you think this increase in murders is going to continue?”

I blinked, somewhat surprised at the admission that I could possibly have insight into the killer’s mind-set. I ran my fingers through my hair. “I …” I grimaced. “I think he’s gearing up to something. Something big.”

“Such as?”

“I’m … not sure,” I said, truthfully enough. I had my suspicions, but I sure as hell couldn’t voice them.

He leaned toward me across the table, green-gold eyes on mine. “But you have suspicions?”

Jeez, could he read my mind? “Well, yeah,” I said, doing my best to not squirm uncomfortably. “But they’re all pretty nebulous, y’know?”

He leaned back and gave me what looked suspiciously like a friendly smile. “Well, why don’t you air them out? Sometimes these kinds of brainstorming sessions can really open up some new avenues of thinking.”

That was Fed-speak for, Tell me everything you know.

Like hell, darlin, I thought. But maybe I could air out a few allusions. “Well, I think he’s … um, attempting to do something arcane. Or what he thinks would be arcane.”

He gave a grave nod. “So, some sort of death magic? A ritual of some sort?”

I watched him carefully. “Yeah. Something along those lines.”

“Perhaps some way to gain some sort of influence or power?”

I could feel my eyes narrowing, and I had to force my face to relax. “Sure. Why make the effort otherwise? It has to be worth doing all of the torture and murder.”

He nodded again. “Perhaps to summon some kind of arcane creature.” He flicked a glance at me. “I mean, he could be operating under the belief that he could do that sort of thing.”

“Right.” This was getting strange. “An arcane creature that would require a great deal of death magic to hold and control.”

“Maybe some sort of demon?” He tilted his head and shrugged.

An odd buzz of excitement ran through me. “Yes. That makes a lot of sense. I think he’s … I mean, I think he thinks he’s going to try to summon a demon.” I watched him closely for his reaction. To my surprise, he didn’t flinch or twitch.

“I’m inclined to agree,” he said instead.

“You do?”

“Yes. He could be planning to summon a demon.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

I blinked at him, thoughts churning until I remembered what my captain had said about Agent Kristoff being involved in a ritual-murder task force. Okay, so this line of thinking isn’t totally bizarre to him, I thought, oddly relieved. He’s probably thinking a demon-from-hell kind of demon, but at least he’s open to the general idea. “Right. He … um, believes that he’s gathering power, using the torture and the prolonged deaths, and especially the blood. I think he’s going to try to summon a—” I stopped. I’d been about to say, “higher demon,” but I suddenly knew that wasn’t right. Even an unwilling reyza wouldn’t explain the need for murders, the gathering of that much potency. A chill crept through me. “He’s planning to summon a lord,” I breathed. “A Demonic Lord. That makes perfect sense. This has been going on for almost a decade, and that’s probably how long a preparation for that kind of summoning would take if the summoner wanted to avoid being ripped to shreds….” I trailed off and looked up at Agent Kristoff. Had I really just said all that? Out loud? Shit. “I mean, that’s what he thinks. I think. I mean, you know, that he thinks he can call up a Demonic Lord.” Shit.

“That makes sense,” he said, voice intense and quiet. I stared at him in shock, but for the life of me I couldn’t see anything in his expression or demeanor that indicated he was toying with me or teasing me.