Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

Gallagher was still speaking, something about caseload and divisions and seniority, but I’d stopped listening. Garner. Zack Garner. Two months I’d been searching for him, his caretaker Sonny, Ryan, and Ashava: my “AWOL four”, as I’d come to call them. And now Zack was doing his FBI thing as if nothing had happened?

I tuned back in to hear Gallagher finish with, “—and he’s been on call twenty-four seven.”

“Got it. No worries,” I said. Gallagher needed an under the table, no strings attached consult. Meanwhile, I needed to pay a visit to Division Chief Zack Garner and, as a side bonus, I could check out the slime victims. “I’m starting to see the wisdom of going to Fed Central . . . to give my report.” I stopped short of giving him an over-the-top sly wink. “Let’s go. I’ll follow you.”

Chapter 5

Zack Garner was back. Without a word to me. No phone call, no email, nothing.

I followed Gallagher out of the near-deserted neighborhood, past shaggy yards and boarded up houses, while my confusion rose along with my anger. Clearly, Zack’s return from his “leave of absence” hadn’t been in just the last day or two. No, he’d been back at work long enough to be well-established at Fed Central. But what about the others? Szerain and Zack had taken Ashava then fled—with Xharbek in hot pursuit. Sonny Hernandez, Zack’s caretaker, was also missing, and I could only assume that he’d gone with them. Yet if Zack had returned, did that mean the others were still in hiding? Or had something happened to them?

Not long after I met Zack, he and my best friend, Jill Faciane, became an item, and then he’d failed to tell her that he was a demon before he “accidentally” got her pregnant. And not just any old demon. Zakaar was one of only eleven demahnk: mind-reading, shape-shifting, power-wielding, secretive beings who were oathbound to the demonic lords—and, as I recently discovered, were the nonhuman “daddies” of the half-human lords. Which meant Jill’s baby was a demonic lord.

But had Zack prepared any of us for that little surprise? Hell no. It didn’t help that I had a really tough time believing he’d knocked up Jill by accident. I wanted to, but . . . damn, that dog just didn’t hunt, especially since Jill had been using protection, and Zack was—to put it bluntly—a super-being. I also wanted oh-so-badly to believe that his original intentions were nice and benign and involved everyone being happy and in the know, and certainly not at all like the godawful shocking way we found out about Ashava’s true nature. Jill had given birth to her mere minutes before the valve explosion. Except, instead of wasting time with actually getting born the old fashioned way, the kid had teleported herself out of Jill’s body . . . in baby dragon form. Then again, Ashava had good reason to be in a hurry. It was her efforts that kept the valve explosion from being about a thousand times worse.

Yet after Ashava saved the world, Jill had barely a minute to hold her before Zakaar and Szerain appeared and stole her away—ostensibly to keep her from Xharbek. And I wanted to believe that stealing Ashava was in her best interest. But now Zack was out of hiding? Just like that?

Yeah, I had a few trust issues where the various demahnk were concerned. I liked Zack, but he and the other demahnk were playing deeper games, with rules and stakes they refused to share.

And we’re all players—or pawns—whether we like it or not.

Adrenaline surged, and I slammed on the brakes, managing to avoid plowing the Humvee into Gallagher’s car by at least a whole millimeter. When my brain caught up with my reflexes, I realized he’d stopped at the ID checkpoint into the restricted area. For security and public safety reasons, no unauthorized personnel were allowed within a two-mile radius of Beaulac’s former police department building.

The guard scowled my way. I mouthed “sorry” as my heart lurched its way back to a semblance of a reasonable pace. After Gallagher was cleared through, I pulled up to the checkpoint and submitted to the ID/fingerprint scan/smile-for-surveillance routine.

A block away, the Federal Command Center loomed—formerly the top-ranked Southern States Heart Hospital. It had been a logical choice for the command center since a) no heart patient in their right mind wanted to be in a hospital that was a mile and a half from ground zero, and b) being in the restricted zone gave Fed Central yet another layer of security. The hospital building and grounds had been converted into a compound that served as local headquarters for several agencies, including DHS, NSA, CIA, and others, with the FBI task force supposedly taking the lead. Joint occupation of the building gave the illusion of hand-holding cooperation, but with each organization in its own wing, the reality fell short.

I passed through a second checkpoint at the facility’s perimeter fence and into the shadow of the monstrosity that had once been a sleek, modern building. The ground level windows had been bricked over, with no consideration for aesthetics, and the upper level ones barred, giving the place an overall grim prison effect.

Gallagher parked and headed for the door with only the barest of glances my way. I parked a few spaces away then followed. I had no clue what his plan was to facilitate this unauthorized consult, but apparently he trusted me to follow his lead when the time came. Gallagher was sharp and dedicated. He’d never have been recruited into Zack and Ryan’s task force otherwise. And though he and I butted heads constantly, I was confident he’d come up with a way to get me past the “no arcane specialists” order and into the medical wing.

Security had increased in the two weeks since I’d last been here. Substantially. Not only had two machine gun turrets been added on the mezzanine overlooking the e

ntrance, but the checkpoint at the door included a blood test, for additional identification. In the lobby, a handful of agents and support personnel passed through as they went about their business. Gallagher was nowhere to be seen, but I figured he’d find me when the time came.

Since my cover purpose was to file my report on the Piggly Wiggly incident, I made my way down the corridor to the communication room. The computer station nearest the door was empty, so I snagged it, logged in, and pretended to be absorbed in the details of the morning. And waited. The wall clock—like all the Fed Central clocks—had a sharp and annoying tick tick t-t-tock at the top of every minute, emphasizing how much time I wasn’t spending helping Cory. I had faith that Gallagher wouldn’t leave me hanging, and he clearly had the same sort of faith in me, but it would’ve been nice to know the basics of his plan. Should I be bracing for a distraction? And if so, what? Fire alarm? Inexplicable swarm of ferrets?

Ten years later—or about five minutes, if the clock was to be believed—I heard Gallagher’s voice down the hall, coming closer.

“We’ll get the logistics sorted,” he was saying. “Will allocation of another twelve rooms be adequate for today?”

A woman’s voice replied. “I can only hope. We barely have the resources for the victims brought in this morning, let alone a dozen more cases. But best to have space ready.”

“Medical personnel screenings for Level 1 clearance are underway,” Gallagher said as he and a petite older woman wearing a white lab coat passed the doorway. “You’ll have more support by tonight.”

Good, no ferrets or fire alarms. High level security clearance for standard medical conditions wasn’t the norm, which meant that was my cue. I stepped into the corridor behind them.

“Excuse me, y’all,” I said amiably. When they turned, I smiled at the woman then peered at her name badge. “Dr. Patel is it? I’m Kara Gillian, Arcane Commander. I couldn’t help but overhear you mention victims and Level 1 clearance in the same context?” I gave her the gently perplexed look of an authority figure who expects nothing short of a full explanation.

Dr. Patel’s expression was one of surprise and, oddly, what seemed like awe. “Yes. But . . .” She glanced at Gallagher, then back to me.

“I had a busy morning at the rifts and haven’t had time to check my interagency updates yet,” I continued, trusting the grimy condition of my uniform fatigues to back me up. I made my smile friendly and full of understanding. “But for important matters like arcane medical conditions, I’d rather get the info firsthand.”

Gallagher stepped forward. “Sorry, Gillian. You’re not on the list for—”

My smile went to full glare at light speed. “Don’t give me the bureaucratic bullshit runaround, Gallagher. I have clearance, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Dr. Patel shouldered past him with her hand extended and relief on her face. “Dr. Aja Patel. A pleasure to meet you.”