Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

And Mzatal would have confirmed that.

Her expression sobered. “I had congestive heart failure. A year or two left to live at most. Couldn’t walk up a flight of stairs. Could barely walk to my car, for that matter. Rhyzkahl healed me, gave me back a life worth living. But that’s not why I stayed.” She shrugged. “Okay, maybe that was part of it. But, honestly, I liked my life in the demon realm.”

“Were the others sick, too?”

“Not everyone was terminal, but all had issues or diseases that drastically affected quality of life.” She took a deep breath. “We were told that if, at the end of two months, we wished to return to Earth, we could, with memory of the demon realm erased. None of us wanted to go. Whatever screening Farouche did to pick us was solid. No attachments, open-minded, intelligent, and living crippled lives.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I’m having to readjust everything I’ve been thinking for the past half a year.” I couldn’t think of how they’d been screened so well, unless maybe demahn

k help had been involved? My thoughts turned to poor Amaryllis Castlebrook who I’d impersonated in order to save her from being kidnapped as well as to infiltrate the Farouche Plantation. Though my intentions were solid, had I inadvertently kept her from getting help she needed? I made a mental note to track her down and check on her. Assuming she was still alive.

Janice was silent, probably readjusting a few opinions of her own as well. At least I hoped so. After a moment, she drew a deeper breath and smiled. “Teri Abraham didn’t graduate from high school due to paralyzing social anxiety and panic attacks, but she must have an IQ out in the stratosphere. Lightning quick and witty to boot. She’s blossomed with Amkir.”

I gaped in surprise. Amkir? Try as I might, I couldn’t imagine that harsh lord nurturing anything or anyone. Yet an instant later, memory flashed, as clear as if it was happening right here and now, of Amkir rescuing the stray dog from the river. Back when he’d been more than he was now, before the volatile anger.

“And me?” she continued, oblivious to my shock. “I was a geophysicist in a dead end job and staring death in the face. I got the chance to live again, to make a difference. My seismologic research in the demon realm is helping the lords predict problem areas. In fact, while I’m on Earth I want to pick up equipment to take back.”

“You really do like it there,” I said.

“I do,” she said fervently. “It’s different with Mzatal, but he respects my work.” Her gaze went out the window. “He didn’t tell me why he exiled Rhyzkahl.”

“I think there were several reasons for it,” I said. “But one was that Rhyzkahl was so out of whack after losing his ptarl bond with Zakaar that his presence in the demon realm was causing a potency imbalance and messing things up there.”

Her lips pursed. “And I’m sure there was a strategic aspect as well as far as getting him out of the game.” She winced. “Not that Rhyzkahl was able to do much after he lost Zakaar.”

“Agreed, on both counts.” Other than the part about losing Zakaar. Rhyzkahl was given every opportunity to salvage the relationship and spurned them all. “I also suspect that part of why Mzatal locked him down here was to let Rhyzkahl rehab himself—physically, mentally, and arcanely. The demon realm can’t afford to be short a lord right now. Any lord. Not with so many anomalies along with the screwed up potency balance.” I shook my head. “Covering for Rhyzkahl takes a toll on all of them.”

Her gaze sharpened on me. “But why is he here with you? Don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s clear you hate his guts.”

I let out a breathless laugh. “Funny thing is, I don’t. Not anymore, I mean, though I certainly have every reason to.” I sobered and met her eyes. “But I don’t trust him. I can’t ever trust him again.” I sighed. “I won’t lie. There are times when it’s really hard to deal with him.”

“What the hell did he do to you?”

He used me, preyed upon my vulnerabilities, and tortured me, I thought, yet I suddenly had no desire to launch into the ugly details. I’d lived through them. I’d relived them a thousand times in my dreams. I was done rekindling their power through retelling the story. Screw that. “He betrayed me,” I said. “And he tried to destroy Kara Gillian.”

Questions furrowed her brow at my phrasing, but I spoke before she could voice them. “Now that we’ve straightened out the misunderstandings, I won’t keep you from your reunion with Rhyzkahl any longer.” I gave her a smile. “He seemed happy to see you, and I’m sure you both have catching up to do. That cask on the counter is tunjen juice. I bet he’d appreciate some. Glasses are in the cupboard over the coffeemaker. Feel free to get one for yourself, too.”

Janice blinked then stood. “Right. Um, thanks. For the talk and the tunjen.”

“Anytime.”

She found two glasses and filled them from the cask then headed out the back door. Though full night had descended during our chat, the security lights on the house gave plenty of illumination for me to see her cross to Rhyzkahl. She handed him the glass of tunjen and said something that made him laugh, then he took a drink, draped his arm around her shoulders, and headed with her toward his house.

I wiped the smile off my face. Damn, I was getting soft in my old age.

Now that I had a quiet moment alone, I pulled Elinor’s journal from my pocket. I couldn’t articulate why I’d felt it was so important to retrieve it—whether due to Elinor’s influence or my cop sense—but there was no denying my relief that I had it. I opened it now and began to page through it almost reverently. The text had seventeenth century style and spelling, but fortunately Elinor’s essence allowed me to read it with ease.

To my surprise, for every page of text, there were at least five containing finely rendered sketches of demon realm flora and fauna, as exquisite as any naturalist could desire. Curiously, the inside of the back cover held a mix of letters and numbers that seemed to be arranged in words and sentences, though “H4rq9pr” looked more like a never-to-be-remembered computer password than a language. A personal code, perhaps? Yet I didn’t see it used anywhere else in the journal.

After a quick and fruitless check for anything in the various drawings that might help in my current situation—such as pictures of Jontari or sigils for binding—I moved on to skim her written entries.

They began with her arrival in the demon realm and befriending Giovanni, touched lightly on her training with Mzatal, then changed in tone, with coy references to a Him that I knew was Rhyzkahl. The entries stopped for several months then picked up again, though less frequently than before, with her in Szerain’s realm. Far more talk of Giovanni, and dozens of sketches of him. Sketches of Szerain as well, along with a variety of demons and one demahnk that I recognized as Xharbek.

But nothing of the ritual that killed her and caused the cataclysm.

I stroked my fingers down the spine of the journal, thoughtful. I clearly remembered an Elinor-dream in which Mzatal took the journal from her because she was doodling instead of studying. That was right before he sent her away to train with Szerain, but obviously she got the journal back somehow. Most likely, Mzatal returned it later on—since it seemed more than a little cruel to flat out steal a girl’s diary. The real mystery was how it ended up in his possession again, stored away in his solarium.

Yet another question to ask the next time I saw him.