Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

A weak smile struggled across Giovanni’s face. “She began to sneeze and could not stop until I removed all trace of the flower and Lord Szerain attended her.”

“The ways were sealed after the cataclysm,” Turek said in a thoughtful rumble. The glow in the wall-sigils faded, and he eased his grip to release the pale and shaken Giovanni. “Hundreds of your kind died and discorporeated. Yet as there was no conduit for them to pass through to Earth, all were thus consumed by the void.”

“Except Giovanni, who had good reason to hold on for centuries,” I said quietly. “Elinor.”

Turek dipped his head in a nod then murmured to himself in demon, And now I understand so much more. He remained still for several heartbeats then abruptly swept Giovanni off his feet and into a four-armed hug. “It pleases me that you are whole and well,” he said, “though I see you are still bony and weak.”

Giovanni wheezed a laugh, feet dangling as he returned the embrace. “I am whole, apart from the pinpricks left upon my person by your feeble attempt to disembowel me.”

Turek hissed with amusement and set Giovanni carefully down. “And why have you come to this beleaguered realm?” His keen eyes fixed on me.

“Because Elinor is alive, too.” I proceeded to give him the quick and dirty rundown of that whole situation, including the business with the Elinor dreams and her current location in lockdown at Fed Central in Xharbek’s tender loving care. I finished by telling him of my decision to summon a Jontari warlord, fully expecting Turek to echo the other “are you nuts?” reactions. But when I explained the incredible strength of the graphene net, and my idea to use one in addition to arcane bindings, he let out a hissing snort.

“No Jontari will expect physical restraint.”

I smiled, relieved. “My thoughts exactly. It should give me the advantage I need.” My gaze flicked toward the palace, and I winced. “Only problem is, we need gold to trade for the net. Since the west tower is gone, can you tell us where we can borrow some statues or other art?”

“There are none in the palace that would serve your need, Kara Gillian,” he said, shaking his wide head. “Statuary, yes. But none of gold.”

My heart sank. “What about silver? Or platinum?”

“Dahn. Sesekur dih lahn. There is but stone and wood.”

Shit. I plunked to sit on the steps. Fire rain splattered and hissed against Turek’s dome of protective warding with no sign of abating. “I guess we’ll have to implement Plan B and loot gold décor from Rhyzkahl’s palace.”

Turek growled. “The Jontari Sky Reaper clans overran the demesne of the shamed one a mere eight thousand two hundred and thirty-three heartbeats after Mzatal departed for Earth. It is inaccessible.”

I gave my head a sharp shake as if I could dispel this unpleasant situation. “Eight thousand two hundred . . .”

“A little under two and a half hours,” Pellini said quietly.

I blinked at him, briefly distracted from my disappointment by how fast he’d whipped out the conversion. “Um, thanks.” Mzatal had been on my nexus yesterday morning. “Shit. That means they’ve had plenty of time to get settled. No way could we get in and survive, and they’ve probably looted the gold for themselves already. Guess we’re stuck with Plan F. Great. Looks like we’re going to scrape gold off Mzatal’s walls.”

“Fifty pounds worth.” Pellini shuddered. “Man, that gold leaf shit is like tissue paper. That’ll be a long, miserable job.”

“Doesn’t look as if we have a choice,” I said, throat tight with frustration. “Fuck. It was Plan F because it was the absolute last resort. Even with arcane help from demons, we’ll be hard pressed to get it done and make it back in time for Bryce to finalize the deal tonight.”

Giovanni touched my arm tentatively. “Szerain . . . has other gold,” he said in a strangled voice, expression agonized. Turek let out a strange whine, as if he knew what Giovanni referred to.

“Where?” I asked.

His throat worked. “Long, long ago, he created eleven discs of gold. Nearly pure. Each disc is embossed with exquisite imagery, the fruit of a century of labor . . . and his genius.” His shoulders sagged. “They are deeply precious to him.”

I took a moment to process the stark difference in the young artist’s demeanor from the anger that had driven him up until this point. Though Giovanni was furious with Szerain, he wouldn’t callously destroy Szerain’s most precious work.

“We’ll think of something else,” I said, but I couldn’t hide my uncertainty. “Maybe one of the other lords can help. Seretis, maybe. Or Elofir.”

Turek huffed. “Only Rhyzkahl and Szerain amass gold. Szerain for art, and Rhyzkahl to feed his lust for opulence.”

Giovanni’s expression turned bleak. “It seems the discs are the only hope for Elinor.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Please . . .”

“Then I guess we’ll have to use the discs,” I said with a tight, forced smile. “Isn’t that peachy. I get to be the chick who melts down the Ark of the Covenant.”

“Dahn!” Turek roared. He stretched to his full height, clawed hands crooked as if poised to rip flesh ap

art. “This iniquity shall not come to pass.” With each word, the protective dome flickered.

I scrambled to my feet and fought the instinctive urge to get the hell away from him. Instead, I jerked my chin up and planted my hands on my hips. “Fuck your iniquity!” I yelled back, channeling my frustration and desperation. Turek hissed menacingly, but I barreled on before he could do more than roar at me. “You’re essence bound to Szerain, right? Well, your bro is in deep shit. He’s hiding from Xharbek in a dimensional pocket, and it’s only a matter of time before Xharbek locates him, breaks through, and has him in his grasp.” My blood pounded in my ears. “I can help Szerain. I truly believe that. Except that I can’t because I keep getting blindsided by dream-visions of Elinor’s life, thanks to Szerain sticking her essence onto mine. In order to have any hope of rescuing Szerain, I need to shut Elinor up, which means I need to rescue her first, which means I need to summon a Jontari imperator, which means I need a graphene net, which means I need fifty pounds of motherfucking pure gold now!”