Mark of the Demon (Kara Gillian 1)

He raised an eyebrow at me. “Please don’t tell me she found a book called Demon Summoning for Dummies”

I laughed. “Not quite, but I think I may write that someday. No, it was noticed what areas she was researching, and, well … she was directed to a summoner who could mentor her.”

“Wait. Who noticed? Is there some sort of worldwide surveillance?”

“No, there’s no powerful Illuminati-ish conspiracy thingy.” I grinned. “Tessa got lucky. She was at the New Orleans public library, and one of the librarians saw the books she was pulling. The librarian happened to be a summoner.” I spread my hands. “This woman was elderly and was basically ‘retired’ from summoning, so she couldn’t take Tessa on as a student, but she was able to find someone who would.” I didn’t elaborate on how much luck had actually been involved. Over the past few years I’d started to suspect that the demons had a hand in finding people who could summon, but I had no proof and little more than a gut feeling to go on.

He remained silent for a moment. “And how does good and evil come into this?” he said finally.

“It doesn’t. I mean, not in the way that we define it. The demons are no more evil than witches are evil. And, trust me, every practitioner of Wicca I know abides pretty strictly by the canon of Harm None. For the most part, it’s possible to make a general categorization and say this demon or that lord is evil, or this one is good, but all it means is that the behavior and actions of the demon fall into a pattern we as humans find acceptable or unacceptable. There’s really so much more involved.”

“Such as?”

“Well, what we might find unacceptable is merely a manner of dealing with issues of supremacy and honor for them. And vice versa. Something we find acceptable could be anathema to them, simply because of the way the particular act or whatever is performed.” I shook my head. “Their moral and honor code is incredibly complex. Debts of honor are considered absolute, and to refuse to pay a debt of honor is evil to them.” I spread my hands. “If you somehow screw up and put a demon in a position to lose honor, you’re going to get slaughtered in simple retaliation.”

“So they’re pretty solid on the concept of revenge, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, keeping my voice casual. I’d learned how accepting demons were of revenge when I was twenty-three, still a rookie cop. Evidence in a molestation case had been thrown out and the perpetrator had walked. I hadn’t been involved in the case, but I knew the defendant, had known him twelve years earlier when I lived in his parents’ house for a month.

I told Tessa about it, about him. Told her everything. And on the next full she’d summoned a syraza who, after it had been explained to him what was needed, gave his service as a gift. “Yeah, demons take matters of vengeance very seriously.”

Ryan picked up the knife and cut a piece of cheddar, obviously reluctant to soil his palate with my store-brand cheese but apparently hungry enough to risk it. “That sort of thinking could work with humans, too, you know,” he said. “Evil is often a matter of perception.” He looked askance at the cheese, definitely trying to imply that my cheap mild cheddar was evil.

“Well, yes,” I said as I took the knife from his hand. “But in order to do my job, I try to stick with the perceptions of a civilized society. Murder, bad. Hurting people who’ve done nothing to wrong you, bad. Taking things that you have no right to, bad.” I smiled sweetly and stabbed the knife into the brick. “Making fun of other people’s cheese, bad.”

He laughed. “All right, all right. And catching serial killers, good, right?”

I leaned back in my chair. “Well, I sure hope so.”

“So, do you need to do anything special for Rhyzkahl to come to your dreams?”

“No. I mean, I don’t know if there’s anything I can do. He’s come to me three times since … er … the summoning. Three weeks ago.” More than three weeks ago, which meant that we had less than a week until the full. Time was running out and too many questions remained unanswered. “The best I can hope for,” I continued, “is to try to fall asleep with a strong impression that I want him to come to my dreams.”

He looked at me doubtfully. “Is that anything like calling him to you?”

“No,” I said, with more conviction than I felt. “A call has to be … more intense and desired.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “You know, I’m still not keen on this. But I guess it’s the only way we’ll get any answers.”

“Yeah,” I said with a shrug. “I can’t think of anything else to do right now.”

“And I guess it wouldn’t be good if I was in the same room as you?”

I blinked at him for a second before I realized that he wasn’t saying what I thought he was. No, he wasn’t coming on to me. He was talking about security. Sleeping on the floor or something. “Ummm, no, that would probably throw things off.”

“All right, then I’ll be down the hall.” He gave me a wry smile. “I guess it’s time for you to hit the sack.”

Hitting the sack was easier said than done. Or, rather, the hitting-the-sack part was easy, but the actual falling-asleep part was trickier. And I didn’t dare take anything narcotic to help me along, since that would just about guarantee that he wouldn’t come. But thoughts of the case kept springing into my mind, coupled with thoughts of Ryan. Damn it, I need to be thinking of Rhyzkahl! I sighed and flopped onto my back, forcing myself to close my eyes and keep them closed. I’ll count my breaths, I decided. And think about Rhyzkahl. That’s not calling him.

I concentrated on taking long, steady breaths. One, two, three … Think about those eyes of his … eight, nine, ten … and that beautiful face … fifteen, sixteen, seventeen … and that aura of power… twenty-two, twenty-three …

“I am here.” The resonant voice filled the room.

My eyes snapped open. I’d actually fallen asleep? I sat up quickly. Hot damn, it worked! I thought, with a mixture of elation and relief.

He stood at the foot of my bed, motionless, head lowered and azure eyes drilling into mine. An eerie pale light surrounded him, shimmering like hot asphalt, coming from nowhere and everywhere. He didn’t move, and my elation began to shift to uncertainty as his aura touched me. I didn’t feel the killing rage and fury that I’d experienced before, but there was a simmering intensity about him, a disdain and slow wrath that sent a crawling unease through me. This was far different than any prior dream visit.

“I … I’m glad you are here,” I said hurriedly.