Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

The fog of exhaustion burned away, and I sat up straight. “And then?”

“The guard on duty opened the gate for him, at which time Lord Muzztol proceeded on foot to a point between the two Spires and disappeared, presumably transporting out.”

Huh. Mzatal had arrived at the Spires only four minutes after we left. My instinct told me the timing was significant, but more telling was the part where he appeared out of nowhere. It was possible the lords had the teleportation aptitude of their daddies, but if so it was dormant—with the exception of Kadir. “I trust you have surveillance footage of the incident?”

“Yes, ma’am. I have it ready to send over on the secure network.”

“Do that. And thank you for being patient with my confusion.”

“It was my pleasure ma’am.” His voice held a smile.

I punched the end call button on the war room phone then retrieved my cell phone from where it was charging on the side table. I had over half a dozen unread messages, but none of them were as important as the one voicemail that Mzatal had left at 17:55, mere minutes before our departure from the Spires.

The solution for this student does not lie with what you seek, nor with kin of my partner in dance. Do not act. I will come to you in an hour’s time.

He’d responded in code based on my original message. I mentally translated. The solution for Elinor’s predicament isn’t the gimkrah or the Jontari. Sit tight and wait for a face-to-face discussion in an hour.

Except he hadn’t come to me or called again. Instead, he returned to the demon realm minutes later without calling me back.

Maybe the surveillance video could tell me why? I switched the wall screen over to DIRT Secure and clicked on the file from Lieutenant Garvey. Distortion lines waved through the video images but, sure enough, Mzatal magically appeared about ten feet from the guard shack, strode unchallenged into the compound and to the Spires, then vanished.

Huh. I seriously doubted Mzatal had teleported himself there. Far more likely that Helori blinked him in and departed in the same instant, too quickly to spot. I watched it several more times in an effort to confirm my suspi

cion, but it wasn’t until I ran the arrival clip at quarter speed that I saw the ghostly image beside Mzatal. Pleased, I isolated the frame and enlarged it.

Except it wasn’t Helori. It was Ilana, Mzatal’s ptarl. But why drop him off outside the gate? I fiddled with the enhancement adjustments in an effort to get a clearer picture then gave up and called for Lilith Cantrell, our resident double-duty security guard and tech specialist. While I waited for her, I tried to make sense of it all. There were any number of reasons to explain why Ilana came for him, especially with the rifts quiet on Earth. Perhaps a worsening of the southern anomaly in the demon realm. Or fallout from the Jontari after the gimkrah incident. Maybe a potency imbalance emergency.

I drummed my fingers on the table in a tense staccato. Despite all the perfectly logical reasons, a thorn of worry dug into me. It didn’t feel right. Even if Mzatal was needed in the demon realm, why the odd subterfuge? And why in that moment, a scant four minutes after I left? It didn’t help my uncertainty that Lannist had named both Ilana and Trask before he died. Unfortunately, I had no idea whether he’d been warning me about them or telling me they were allies.

Lilith sauntered in, a laptop case in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. “Whatcha got, boss lady?” she asked, smile and tone bright.

“Technical ineptitude,” I said with a self-deprecating snort. Fortunately, once I showed Lilith what I wanted, it took her no time at all to enhance the image enough to let me see Ilana’s position better.

The demahnk had her fingertips on Mzatal’s forehead—the ideal position for manipulation.

I thanked Lilith then waited until she departed before letting my fury boil up. That fucking demahnk bitch Ilana thought she could fuck with my man?

My anger cooled to icy calm. Ilana had done something to Mzatal, and though I didn’t know what or why, my gut told me it was far from benign. Good thing I wasn’t as oblivious or helpless as she thought. And, best of all, I had resources she didn’t know about.

I found Michael sitting on the front porch steps, throwing a tennis ball for Sammy while two kittens played hide and pounce between the porch railings.

“Hey there, Michael,” I said. “I really need your help.”

His face lit up. “I got ways to help.”

“I know you do, and I have a couple of important jobs for you.” I sat beside him on the steps. “First, I’m a little worried about Mzatal. Could you please check and make sure he’s okay?”

He grinned wide. “That’s easy ’cause I just saw him before I ate cookies. Makes it speeeedy to see him again fast.” He went still, eyes unfocusing, but a heartbeat later his smile turned into a deep frown. “There he is.” His brow wrinkled.

“What’s he doing?”

“I’ll show you.” He sprang up and crossed the porch to sit with his back to the house. “Not done yet,” he cautioned then drew his knees up and rested his forearms on top of them, tipped his head back against the wall and let his face go slack, eyes staring. A few seconds later the life returned to his expression. “He’s like that,” Michael said. “Just sitting and looking.”

A chill walked down my back. “Where is he?”

“I dunno. It’s a hallway. Kinda dark with light way down at the end. Ilana’s there, too. She’s talking to a man. I dunno who he is.”

“What’s she saying?”