Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

“We’ll help you,” I told him in a shaky voice then screamed, “Turek!” Dropping awkwardly to my uninjured knee, I ripped my jacket off and tried to cover the gash. Blood pooled and spilled over my hands. “Pellini, it’s going to be okay.”

Turek leaped down and landed beside me. He took a fraction of a heartbeat to assess, shouldered me aside, then sunk four sets of claws into the edges of the horrible wound to pull it as closed as possible. Pellini was still conscious, but there was too much blood.

And dying in the demon realm probably won’t save his life like it did mine, I thought with numb dread. With the ways between the worlds so screwed up now, dead was dead at least eighty percent of the time.

Janice scrambled down the ravine. “Is he—oh, Jesus.”

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I fully expected her to turn away and puke, but to my surprise she ran to Pellini’s other side, yanked her own jacket off and wedged it under his neck to open his airway. His awful wheezing eased a bit, and I spared her a brief nod of gratitude. Still, Pellini had minutes, at most. “Turek, can we get him to the grove?” Even if Rho couldn’t help, perhaps it could at least get us to the realm of a friendly lord. Except that all the lords and demahnk were likely either battling the big southern anomaly or on Earth.

Turek growled. “Moving him would but hasten his demise.”

Pellini’s hands went slack and slipped to the ground.

Fear clawed at my chest. “Shit! Pellini, don’t you dare die on me!” I mentally reached for Mzatal in the desperate hope that my need could penetrate both the screwed up interdimensions and the walls between us. But I might as well have been shouting into the void. I fumbled a shaking hand beneath my shirt and pressed it over his sigil on my chest, tried again.

Nothing.

Blood burbled from Pellini’s mouth. Cursing, I shifted my hand to cover Kadir’s sigil scar. Pellini was his protégé, and I knew damn well the clever lord had learned to teleport. He had the best chance of getting here in time.

I focused on Kadir—the feel of his aura, the sound of his voice, the violet of his eyes—and sent out a call through the sigil. Nothing. Not the slightest tingle. I grabbed Pellini’s hand, pressed it to the sigil, and willed the lord here. More nothing. “I . . . I’ll go to Kadir’s realm and run to the gate. I can call Kadir from there.”

Before I could get to my feet, Pellini jerked beneath our hands then went limp.

“He’s not breathing,” Janice said.

“CPR,” I managed to fumble out. I moved into position and began compressions. Buying time at the most. One, two, three, four, five.

Janice grabbed my elbow. “Kara, it’s just making it worse.”

“No. That can’t be right.” I pushed again to prove it then saw the pressure forcing blood from the wound. Horrified, I yanked my hands back and looked from Turek to Janice for a solution.

Her eyes swam with sympathy. “He’s lost too much blood. I’m sorry.”

Turek released his hold and edged back.

I can’t save him. The thought careened through my skull. Even if I ran flat out, I couldn’t possibly get to Kadir’s gate to call him before Pellini finished dying and discorporeated. Utter helplessness threatened to drown me.

“You stupid fucking asshole,” I croaked. “You weren’t supposed to fucking get killed here. That wasn’t part of the plan.” Any second now the light would start to consume him, and he’d be gone. In a week or two he’d reappear on Earth. His body would, at least. But not his essence, unless he was very lucky. “I need you. Don’t you know that? You’re—”

Janice let out a shriek. I jerked my head up to see Kadir standing only a couple of feet away with Paul beside him.

“Save him,” I gasped out, scrambling back to give the lord room. “Please.” I turned an imploring look on Paul. “Please.”

Kadir regarded me, his head tilted and lips parted slightly, as if I were a perplexing problem.

“Lord Kadir,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice strong and steady. “We need your help. He’s dying.”

His laugh sent a chill through my bones. He sidled close, nostrils flaring as he took in my scent. “Dead.”

“No,” I said with conviction. “You wouldn’t have come here for a dead man.”

He traced the line of my jaw with his index finger. “I tend my children.”

With that, he went to one knee beside Pellini and placed a pale hand on the exposed liver. Paul knelt by Kadir’s side, then both went stone still. I realized with a start that Kadir wore Earth jeans and a polo shirt, and his golden-blond hair was woven into a braid.

Seconds ticked by while nothing happened. At least nothing I could see. Pellini hadn’t discorporeated yet, which I hoped was a good sign. But he wasn’t breathing, either.