Mark of the Demon (Kara Gillian 1)

My shriek of dismay let everyone in the hospital know that I was definitely alive, if not necessarily well.

>Jill gave me a shaky smile. “Girlfriend, there was enough of your blood on the scene for you to be dead three times over. But no body. No one knew what happened to you. But we knew that you were … that you couldn’t have survived.”

I made a valiant attempt to sit up, which was phenomenally unsuccessful. I might have managed to tremble slightly. “I don’t understand. I came right back.”

“Darlin’, you’ve been gone for a couple of weeks. We had your funeral and everything.”

I decided that was as good a time as any to go back to being unconscious.

Chapter 31

The next time I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital room. A monitor beeped softly beside the bed, and an IV ran down to a needle in my arm. Dozens of flower arrangements crowded the room, and the incongruous thought struck me that it was a good thing I didn’t have allergies. My vision was clear now, I noted with relief, and I took a careful deep breath, relieved again to find that the strange searing pain was gone. Was that because it was the first breath that my lungs had taken?

I gave an involuntary shudder. I’d died. Holy fucking shit. And I’d seen the demon realm. Another shudder went through me at the memory of that beauty, the turquoise sea, the demons in flight. I’d never seen so many demons at one time. I probably never would again, and the realization sent a curious ache of grief through me.

I lifted a hand to rub my eyes, dismayed at how much effort it took. I guess all my muscles will have to learn how to work again.

A man I hadn’t noticed before stood abruptly from a chair by the window. It took me a couple of seconds to process who it was, simply because of the deep lines of fatigue and stress etched into his face.

“Ryan,” I said, voice cracking annoyingly.

“About fucking time you woke up.”

I gave a breathy laugh. “Sorry. I was busy being dead.”

An agonized expression flitted across his face. “You … God almighty. Everyone thought you were dead. I mean, really dead. I saw you disappear with the lord.” He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I thought he’d taken your body just to fuck with us. Michelle disappeared, too, but there’s been no sign of her.”

Michelle was the payment for giving me the chance to return, I realized with a guilty ache. I dropped my head back and stared up at the ceiling. “I was dying. I mean, seriously. I had only a couple of minutes, if that. And he took me with him, back to his realm, when he returned.” There was a tightness in my throat that I was having difficulty speaking around. “I did die. I mean, I died in the other sphere, so I was just dismissed back to this one.” I gulped. “He gave me the chance to re-form here.”

Ryan looked confused, then his expression cleared. “Like the demons? When they’re killed on this plane they’re dismissed back to their own plane?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I don’t know everything about it, but I guess it was the best chance I had.” A shiver ran down my back. “I got the impression that it doesn’t always work.”

He let out his breath, then gave me that crooked smile that I’d always found so charming. “You know you’ve managed to confuse the crap out of everyone?”

“By not being dead?”

He snorted. “And by being gone for a couple of weeks. And by appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the Beaulac PD patrol room. And by not having a scratch or mark or scar or anything else—including clothing—on you.”

I gave a weak laugh. “Great, so everyone’s seen me naked.”

“Except me, damn it,” he said, eyes crinkling. “I was in Quantico, still trying to explain what had happened.” He shook his head. “Well, I guess I’m grateful to the demonic bastard for giving you a chance to live.”

“My aunt. Is she …”

The pained expression returned to his face. “She’s in a coma. No one knows why. There’s no sign of trauma….”

My throat tightened. “He took her essence, drained her to form his circle. She’s … empty.” My voice sounded distant. Later. I’ll cry later.

Ryan blew out his breath. “Damn,” he said. “Is there any way to get it back?”

“I don’t know.”

We were both silent for a moment. “You stopped him, though,” Ryan said finally. “At least that’s over. You missed the shitstorm when it was revealed who the Symbol Man was. We searched his house and found a hidden room—full-out torture chamber, with all sorts of ‘satanic’ diagrams on the floor.” He grinned at my eye roll. “Good thing we found the room, since the age-progressed photo turned out to be pretty useless. Fucking Quantico. So much for asking for a rush on it. We got it back three days after you—” He grimaced.

“Died. Yeah.” I gave a shrug that I didn’t feel. “He’d had some work done on his face. So you really are with the FBI?”

“Really am,” he said, smiling. “Full-blown Fed.”