Blood of the Demon (Kara Gillian 2)

He gave a shudder. “All right, that sounds pretty hideous. So, he … what, doesn’t go to his afterlife or whatever now?”

I rubbed my temples. “It’s a bit more complex than that. Everything I’ve been taught about essence and potency says that, while there’s no such thing as actual from-one-body-to-the-next reincarnation, essence does get reused. Think of it like water being poured back into a pitcher. The next time a child is born, another glass is poured out. But if too much essence gets consumed, then there won’t be enough to create new life, and we’ll start seeing some nasty side effects.”>Crawford shrugged. “I guess I’m saying that if you need anything, let me know.” He looked over at me. “Any change with your aunt?”

I shook my head stiffly. My aunt Tessa was in an extended-care facility—a place that catered specifically to neurological disorders. I knew that Tessa hadn’t suffered any sort of brain injury, but I still needed to have her body cared for. She was missing her essence as well, though hers had not been consumed the way Brian’s had. It was just … missing. Temporarily mislaid, I hoped. I’d hated to put her in a home, but at least I could console myself with the knowledge that she had no awareness of where she was.

“No,” I answered. “No change. I’ve been trying to go through some of the stuff at her house, get it cleaned up a bit, just in case …” My voice broke, and I couldn’t continue.

“In case she doesn’t wake up,” he said, more gently than I ever would have expected from him.

I nodded, even though that was only part of the reason I was trying to go through Tessa’s things. It was her library that I was most interested in. Tessa’s essence had been used to provide added potency for a massive arcane ritual, and I still clung to the hope that it could be reversed and she could come back to her body. Tessa’s library contained hundreds of texts, scrolls, and documents related to the arcane, and I remained optimistic that one of them held some answers on how to help restore her essence.

Unfortunately, my research had come to a screeching halt before it even began when I discovered that my aunt had warded her library with layers upon layers of arcane protections—and that they had not been set to allow me passage. That fact bothered me on a number of levels—not the least of which was that, without access to the materials in that library, I might never see her alive and well again.

My gaze slid back to the open door of the house. I could see Jill moving around inside, taking pictures and measurements. I could also see the motionless lump that was Brian’s body, but I was thankfully far enough away that I couldn’t feel the gaping lack of essence. This was different from my aunt’s situation. His essence had been consumed, not just pulled away whole. Even if his body weren’t dead, there’d be no way to return his essence to him. There was no essence left to return.

And what could have possibly done that to him? I asked myself again, frustration and worry twining together in my gut. The only creature I knew of that could consume essence was an ilius, but that didn’t mean much. There was a whole lot that I didn’t know, and I still couldn’t shake the sick feeling that I’d screwed something up in my dismissal of the demon. What if I was responsible for this? Had the demon sensed Brian’s death and swooped down onto that essence just as it was beginning to shuffle free of its mortal coil? Was that even possible?

Damn it. There was too much that I didn’t understand. Unfortunately, there were only two possible sources of information for anything to do with the arcane. The first—and what would normally have been the simplest—was my aunt’s library.

The second source of answers to questions about the arcane were the demons. I had a feeling I was going to be summoning again tonight—especially since a higher demon might also be able to help me penetrate the arcane protections on the library that had so far stalled my progress.

I looked over at Crawford. “Sarge, I’d like this case.”

He seemed to consider it for a couple of seconds. “Well, since you were first on the scene, I’ll let you run with it for now.”

“Thanks.” That would give me some more time and opportunity to dig into the circumstances surrounding Brian’s death and maybe shed some light on what could have eaten his essence.

And, if it was something I was somehow responsible for, hopefully I could make sure it wouldn’t happen again.

Chapter 3

By the time I was able to head home, I felt drained, emotionally and physically. The scene at Brian’s house had taken only a couple of hours to wrap up, but we’d spent the next few hours trying to track down where Carol Roth might be. She’d been at work the day before but hadn’t shown up this morning, and we couldn’t find a single person who could state that they’d seen her since she left the office. I’d even requested copies of the surveillance video from the gate for the previous twenty-four hours, in the hopes that there might be some hint or clue there, but the camera system was brand-new—which apparently meant that the security company had no idea how to retrieve video from it and would have to call in a tech to download what I needed.

We’d run down every other possible lead, uncomfortably aware that her body could be anywhere—and in south Louisiana, there were a shitload of places to dump a body. But why the hell would Brian dump her body someplace remote if it was an accident? And then why kill himself? He wasn’t the type to panic. Nothing made sense with this case, and it bugged the shit out of me.

Then, to add to the emotional beating, I’d stopped by the neuro center to see my aunt—or, rather, her empty shell. I hadn’t stayed long, just enough to verify with my othersight that she didn’t have the same “look” that Brian’s body did. Still, it was depressing seeing her normally animated face so waxy and still, and the short visit had left me with a hollow ache of worry in my gut.

I made the turn into my long driveway, mood abruptly lifting as I rounded the last curve and saw the car parked in front of my house. I was quite familiar with that dark blue Crown Victoria—with the heavily tinted windows and more than the usual number of antennae on the back. Add the government plate and it practically shrieked federal agent.

I found myself smiling as I pulled up beside the Crown Vic. Leaning against the hood of the car with his arms crossed over his chest was a tall man with reddish-brown hair and a rugged face. He was wearing a polo-style shirt and blue jeans, which showed off his workout ethic nicely. It was the most casual I’d ever seen him attired. It didn’t make a difference. His entire demeanor announced his profession even more than his car did.

I didn’t give a crap about his profession at the moment. My day had started out shitty, but it definitely looked as if it was turning around now.

I climbed out of my car and slung my bag over my shoulder. He pushed off the hood of his car with a grin.

“Hello there, Special Agent Kristoff,” I said.

He gave a mock sigh, but his green-gold eyes sparkled with amusement. “So formal.”

I laughed. “Fine. Hi, Ryan.” I’d met Ryan during my investigation into the Symbol Man murders, when we were both assigned to the serial-killer task force. My first impression of him had not been a positive one—arrogant, condescending, and dismissive. Later I’d discovered that he could see the arcane, and I came to trust him enough to tell him that I was a summoner. Other than my aunt, he was probably the only person who knew that little fact about me.

After that initial trust had been established, we’d become friends—something that was both rewarding and baffling to me at the same time. Like my friendship with Jill, I treasured this connection with Ryan. Yet at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder if we would ever go beyond “just friends.” Or if I even wanted that. Hell, I had no idea if he was remotely interested in anything beyond friendship.

And this is the last thing I need to be worrying about, I chided myself. My life is complicated enough as it is right now.

“Dare I ask why you’re standing in my driveway?” I said instead.

“Because, while you were dead, someone fixed your door for you.” He turned to glare at my pretty new door. He’d been the one to break it a couple of months ago, busting in when he heard me screaming. It had been only a bizarre demon-induced nightmare, but he’d thought something far worse was happening.