Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

Turek very slowly lowered his hands but remained silent, eyes on me in a manner that seemed both disapproving and aggressively reproachful.

“Oh, and, um.” I cleared my throat, feeling abruptly self-conscious after my impassioned tirade. “I was also hoping you’d come back with us and help make contact with Szerain.”

The demon didn’t speak for another dozen heartbeats then finally rumbled a low, “Kri.”

“Er. ‘Kri’? Yes?” My brow furrowed. “To which part?”

“I will grant you the discs, Kara Gillian,” he said. “And I will go to Earth to seek Szerain.”

My knees wobbled in relief. “Really? Oh man, thanks. You have no idea—” I stopped at Turek’s hsst—a sound that meant stop talking in every language ever.

The savik eyed me for a moment more, then he lifted all four hands before him, as if in supplication. The air above his palms shimmered and coalesced into three gold discs in each hand. Twelve discs, not eleven. Called from a dimensional pocket, I realized. Stored in the same manner as the essence blades. They remained ever so slightly transparent, as if Turek hadn’t quite called them fully in. Each was about the size of a CD, but nearly a half inch thick. Delicate runes I didn’t recognize adorned the edges, and the sculpted face of a different lord gazed from each of eleven discs, so exquisite I wouldn’t have been at all surprised to hear one speak. The face on the twelfth was unfinished, with ghostly hints of features waiting to be born.

Giovanni lifted his hand toward them. “They . . . have changed. He has breathed life into them.”

“They’re incredible,” I murmured. How the hell could I even think of melting these down?

“Szerain must be freed, Kara Gillian,” Turek said, voice low and adamant, as if he could divine the direction of my thoughts.

I sighed out a breath and nodded. “Right. Priority one.”

Giovanni gazed at the discs, his face drawn down in an expression of misery. Pellini leaned in for a closer look. “Maybe we should weigh them to make sure there’s enough.”

Turek slammed both pairs of hands together, and the discs vanished. “The quantity is sufficient, disciple of Kadir,” he hissed. “I will not call forth the twelve again until the time comes to relinquish them for the net.”

Unabashed, Pellini let out a dramatic sigh of relief. “Thank god. Now I don’t have to carry that crap home!”

Chapter 26

We stepped out of the tree tunnel into bright sunlight reflecting off brilliant green-blue sea—and into a gag-inducing stench of rotten fish and seaweed.

Giovanni clapped a hand over his mouth and stumbled a few feet off the path before puking. Pellini cursed long and colorfully, as if foul language could drive the stink away. I settled for holding my nose and breathing shallowly while I got my bearings.

Behind the grove rose a steep mountainside covered in fire-damaged forest. A hundred feet before us, a cliff dropped to wet sand dotted with tide pools and blanketed with thousands upon thousands of dead fish and sea creatures. A natural stone arch connected the mainland mountain to a massive sea stack, on top of which rested the palace of Seretis and Rayst—though “villa” was a far better description for their residence.

It was clear a major storm had recently swept through. Trees were snapped, and detritus lay tumbled among the rotting fish. Whole sections of the villa terraces had collapsed, and the roof of the seaside wing was missing. The stone arch, however, still appeared intact and sturdy, and the shimmer of arcane reinforcements provided an extra measure of reassurance.

“Hurricane,” I said as we started across the arch. “Or demon realm equivalent. I’ve been through enough big storms to recognize the aftermath, but I’ve never heard of one causing a fish kill this large.”

Atop the villa, a cluster of syraza perched, tissue-thin wings spread to catch the sun. As we reached the middle of the arch, one vaulted into the air and arrowed toward us. My hand went to my gun, and I noted that Pellini already had his out and trained on the demon. Logic railed at me to draw mine, but I hesitated for reasons I couldn’t name. Turek remained quiescent, yet he might have been poised to spring into action, for all I knew.

The syraza landed and pushed off in a graceful bound toward us. Recognition finally clicked in.

“Eilahn!” I squealed, racing forward to throw my arms around her. She gave a trilling cry, sweeping me into her arms and enfolding me in her wings.

“You’re not mad at me?” I asked. I still felt guilty for having Idris dismiss her back to the demon realm without her consent.

“No,” she replied in a voice chiming with crystalline tones. “Had our positions been reversed, I would have done the same to protect you.” She finally eased her embrace enough to gaze down at me with wide violet eyes. “And the timing was fortuitous. I am needed here to aid with the anomalies. Oh, but it is good to see that you are well.”

We hugged again, like best friends reuniting after decades apart, then turned to the others to make introductions. Pellini knew Eilahn already, and apparently she and Turek were well acquainted to judge by their exchange of comfortable greetings.

“Giovanni, this is Eilahn,” I said. “She was my guardian on Earth for quite some time. Eilahn, this is—”

“I know Giovanni Racchelli,” Eilahn said. “Returned from death. Fair greetings, kibit.”

I blinked in surprise, not only because I’d never considered the possibility that the two had met, but also because Giovanni was blushing furiously. Did it have something to do with Eilahn calling him “little snake?”

I cleared my throat and regarded them. “Anything y’all want to share?”