Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

“I’ll stay here and keep an eye on Giovanni,” Bryce said. “Plus, I need to make some calls.”

I nodded. “Pellini? You in?”

“Only if I get to drive the Humvee.”

“Works for me. That way I can nap.” I shifted and felt the letter crinkle in my pocket. “Let’s get geared up and plan to leave in fifteen.” Without waiting for an answer, I went to my bedroom, locked the door, then pulled out the letter.

The envelope was battered and filthy, and bore a Royal Mail stamp with a Cardiff postmark from almost five weeks ago. No return information, but my name and address were in Tessa’s neat and distinctive handwriting. Bryce must have recognized it from when we cleared out her library. I had no idea what her evil-aunt masterplan was, now that fake-Katashi was out of the picture. She could be with his other summoners or even with the remnants of Farouche’s organization. Angus McDunn had been Farouche’s second in command and was currently in the wind. She’d avoided Idris when he spotted her at the rift in India. All I knew for sure was that, in over two months, this was her first attempt to contact me.

I glared at the envelope for a moment while anxiety and ire played leapfrog in my chest. Finally, I flipped it over, pulled my combat knife from my boot, and slowly ran the tip of the blade under the flap, checking every millimeter for signs of arcane nasties. After finding none, I slid the letter out and unfolded it. It was handwritten on simple white printer paper, smudged with sooty fingerprints and a brownish streak that looked like blood.

“Nice play for sympathy, Tessa,” I muttered. “Will you also have the ink trailing off the page at the end as if you were being attacked?”

I read, all the while imagining her lying mouth speaking the words.

Kara,

A letter is the only way I have to reach you without interference, and even then, it’s only a slim chance. I wasn’t a good surrogate for your mother, I know, but I did the best I could given the circumstances at the time.

I shook the paper. “You have the gall to bring up my mom in the same sentence as your own two-faced mothering? And what ‘circumstances’? The ones that had you grooming me for sacrifice so you could stay in good graces with Katashi and the Mraztur? What kind of person does that? You never gave a shit about me!”

I’m sorry. I did what I thought was right. In hindsight, maybe there was a better way, but you have to believe me, I couldn’t see it then.

“I’ve already wasted enough of my life believing you,” I growled. “And gee, I can’t see beyond Fuck You.”

Everything has changed.

“Yeah. Because Katashi blew a hole in our world. Can’t be his lapdog now that he’s dead, huh. Sucks for you.”

There is so much I want to tell you, but I can’t like this.

“Of course not.”

I don’t expect you to forgive me, but maybe we can come to an understanding.

“You got the first part right.”

I’ll be at Lee Circle in New Orleans at 11pm on September 30. Please be there, sweetling. I need you. Tessa.

“Seriously? You are so full of shit. Even if your dumb letter hadn’t arrived a week after the meeting, you think I’d’ve fallen for whatever game you’re playing?” Scowling, I stuffed the letter and envelope into my dresser drawer. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. And all that.” I slammed the drawer shut. “And I’m not your damn sweetling!”

“You okay in there?” Jill asked through the door.

Stupid tears stung my eyes, and I swiped them away. “Yep!” I chirped. “Just getting my gear together.”

“Uh huh. We’re ready when you are.”

“Two minutes.” I quickly changed out of my DIRT uniform and into plain black fatigues. I got both tactical holsters strapped on but froze with one bootlace half tied. Katashi was dead, but his little empire wasn’t. If all the lords had, indeed, been truly shocked to learn that an as-yet-unknown

syraza had taken over Katashi’s identity, that meant someone besides a lord had trained the demon. That someone had to be a demahnk, and I had more than a sneaking suspicion that the culprit was none other than the Emperor of All Assholes, Xharbek.

Frowning, I finished tying my bootlace. Xharbek had masqueraded as Carl, Tessa’s boyfriend. Though she wasn’t Katashi’s lapdog anymore, she might very well be the new Empress.

I holstered my weapons then stepped out of my room with a bright smile for Jill.

She gave me a cool, knowing look in return. “You want to talk about it?”

Damn it. “Bryce told you.”