Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

Pellini nodded. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to let you search through Mzatal’s skivvies.”

I gave him a bland look. “What skivvies?”

He groaned. “Okay, I did not need to know that the badass demonic lord goes commando.”

Laughing, I began my gimkrah-hunt. Yet a thorough search of the solarium and Mzatal’s rooms turned up absolutely nothing. Frustrated, I went through the plexus then back downstairs to the summoning chamber, finally returning upstairs to go through his rooms one more time.

No gimkrah.

Now what?

Chapter 28

At a loss, I sent Pellini downst

airs to confer with Turek while I retreated to the rooftop terrace to consider my options.

Though the terrace itself remained intact, the parapet was gone, and no warding had been added to prevent an inadvertent plunge. There was no trace of the glass conservatory or potted plants, and the area had been swept clear of debris. I felt as if I was standing on a giant’s table under the open sky.

To the west, the sea sparkled in the late afternoon sun, giving the illusion that all was right with the world. I eased to the terrace edge and peered over. Far below, waves rolled onto the tumbled basalt and black sand of the beach, nearly reaching the stone circle of Mzatal’s nexus. I moved to the opposite edge and surveyed the forested hills to the east. For a mile, the trees were vibrant, safe within Mzatal’s protections. Beyond that, a patchwork of unhealthy green and ashy black marked the ravages of fire, storms, and other unknown cataclysmic hazards.

Below, a shadow coiled and uncoiled at the base of the basalt training column. A demon—one of the ilius who kept company with Mzatal, though I couldn’t tell which. From this height, the flat top of the column was clearly visible: dark grey stone surrounding a circle of utter blackness.

My stomach flip-flopped. I’d only been to the top once, but that was enough to last a lifetime. After I’d crawled my ass off the column, Mzatal told me that the dark core could consume the resolve of even the most stalwart, and hoo boy did I ever believe him. That inky nothingness hungered for life force. Being absurdly stingy, I preferred to keep my essence all to myself.

Too bad I’d eventually have to test my resolve again. The final trial for the full eleven-ring shikvihr required that it be danced around that life-sucking hole. Even though I told myself today wasn’t that day, cold sweat still trickled down my sides.

I dragged my gaze away from the column and shook off its unsettling feel. Great, I’d successfully checked out the view from the roof. Why had I bothered to come up here? It wasn’t as if admiring the scenery was going to find the stupid gimkrah. “Damn it, Mzatal,” I muttered. “Where did you hide it?”

For the thousandth time, I mulled over the clue Giovanni found. The gimkrah lies in wait, surrounded by emptiness, deep in the heart of darkness. I’d originally assumed that the emptiness and heart of darkness were metaphorical references to Mzatal, but what if I’d gone completely off the rails and the clue really did describe the location? Then again, it was possible whoever wrote that passage hadn’t known shit or, even if they had, their info was obsolete by now. Maybe it had never been meant to be a clue at all and was simply a poetic attempt to capture both the literal and the figurative.

That was a useless line of thought. Stumped as I was, it couldn’t hurt to focus on literal locations, places surrounded by dark emptiness—

I smacked my forehead. Duh! I’d been in a place surrounded by dark emptiness twice already. A dimensional pocket. Mzatal had created pockets to safely store the three essence blades. It made total sense that he would also hide the gimkrah in one.

My exultation was short-lived. How was I supposed to find that particular pocket? After Szerain hid his essence blade, Mzatal and I spent a whole month preparing a ritual to locate it. I didn’t have the skill or the time for that.

Except I was looking for Mzatal’s dimensional hidey-hole. I’d successfully tracked Szerain to his stronghold with only a trace of its arcane scent, and I had an even better chance of connecting with Mzatal’s signature since it was a part of me. I could use his nexus as a starting point for the search. As much as I dreaded a trek down—and back up—the bazillion cliff steps, it was my next logical move.

Movement caught my eye as the ilius scaled the column in a fluid motion that was little more than flashes of color in camouflaging smoke. At the top, it turned my way and stretched itself tall and straight, reminiscent of a meerkat. A greeting posture. I waved and suppressed the urge to holler at it to be careful so close to that horrible darkness.

Darkness.

Deep in the heart of darkness. Deep in the void-core of the column?

I did a fist pump and ran downstairs.

• • •

Turek, Michael, and Giovanni went to round up Janice, while Pellini and I exited and made our way around the palace.

“You’re sure about this?” Pellini asked as we followed the path along the ravine’s lip, away from the cliff and sea.

I winced. “I can’t be positive the column is the key to finding the gimkrah, but it fits the clue, and it fits Mzatal.”

His dark eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“I’m not getting into anything,” I retorted then took a deep breath. “If I’m right, I should be able to sense the gimkrah from up there. I won’t do anything stupid.”