Vengeance of the Demon (Kara Gillian 7)

“It’s okay,” I murmured, throat tight as I took his hand. It was so cold it seemed to pull the heat from mine. “You take all the time you need. Everything’s okay.” I abandoned all thought of updating him on the overall situation. His universe had collapsed to near nothing, and I felt as though I could scatter him to oblivion with a puff of breath.

He dropped his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

I squeezed his hand, willed him to take my warmth if it would ease him. “What about Jill? Maybe she could help you to—”

“No!” His eyes flew open, wild and desperate. “Kara, I cannot. No.”

“But she loves you—” I intended to add and needs you as much as you need her, but the panic that flashed across his face stopped me.

“No. Please, Kara,” Zack said, breathing unsteadily. Desperation bled through the words. “Trust me. It’s not her. But I can’t. Please don’t bring her here. I cannot see her as I am now.”

Was it because of the baby? I didn’t dare ask him, though. He looked as if any more stress would shatter him. Damn good thing I hadn’t brought Jill over—as I’d seriously considered doing. “Zack,” I said gently. “It’s okay. I trust you.” A tiny amount of the tension eased from his grasp. “What about the Demahnk Council? Can’t they help?”

“They won’t.” He paused and flipped me the bird with an unsteady hand. “They can’t.”

The middle finger was his signal that we’d ventured into territory he couldn’t talk about. He was bound by agreement and mandate to both the Council and unnamed ones he obliquely referred to as “the others.” Apparently, breaking his bond with Rhyzkahl hadn’t negated his other contracts. “What about the demahnk who aren’t on the Council? Surely I can rally at least a—”

“Kara. The demahnk are the Council.”

I shook my head, confused. “Wait. Are you saying that every demahnk is a Council member?”

“All but one, now,” he murmured. “The other ten remain united.”

I sat in stunned silence. Only eleven Elder syraza in the whole of the demon realm and Earth? I fished through my memory for anything that contradicted his information and came up with nothing. I’d assumed the Council was comprised of a handful of the eldest demahnk, never guessing that there were less than a dozen demahnk in total. Questions rose, but as I opened my mouth to ask, Zack flipped me the bird again. I swallowed my questions back. Obviously that tidbit of information was all he could give me, and I wasn’t going to push the issue while he was so weak. “Rest, Zack.”

He focused on me with effort, pain he couldn’t hide reflected in his eyes. “What of . . . Rhyzkahl?”

In those three words, Zack managed to express profound grief and frustration. Considering Rhyzkahl’s betrayal and torture of me, I was inclined to do a happy dance to celebrate the lord’s downfall. But Zack had been ptarl bound to Rhyzkahl, as his chief advisor and advocate, for millennia. His concern outweighed my anger.

“I haven’t heard anything new,” I said gently. “When I left the demon realm he was cloistered within his palace. According to Mzatal, he’s debilitated to the point where he can’t take care of his plexus, so the other lords are pitching in to cover it, like they do for Szerain.” Each of the eleven lords had a plexus, a chamber dedicated to monitoring and adjusting the arcane potency flows of their planet. Without constant attention, the flows would tear the world apart. Preventing that end was the one thing the lords agreed on unanimously. “I promise I’ll let you know as soon as I have any new info.”

Zack slumped into the cushions with a long sigh as though he’d never draw another breath. Candlelight glimmered in a tear on his face. Though I couldn’t hear the words, I read them on his lips. “Thank you.” His hand went slack in mine, and my heart thudded in dread until I spotted the shallow rise and fall of his chest.

I untwined my hand from his and kissed his cheek again. “No,” I whispered as I stood. “Thank you, Zakaar.” I looked down at him, struck by the eerie sense that I might never see him again. Aching, I finally turned away, caught Sonny’s eye and nudged my head toward the door. With a last glance at Zack, I exited to the heat and blinding light of the afternoon sun. I wiped away tears and cleared my throat as Sonny followed me out and closed the door behind him.

“He’s fading,” I said hoarsely. “And I have no idea what to do for him.” I wanted to thrash the rest of the demahnk and all the demons who’d turned their backs on him. Stripping his innate connections to the others was like pulling a fish out of water and leaving it to die slowly, gasping for breath.

“Every day it’s as though less of him is here,” Sonny said, grim. “I can barely get him to eat or drink anything, and he only moves when he has to. It’s not good.”

“Keep doing what you’re doing,” I said. “Let me know if there’s anything, anything, that you need and I’ll take care of it.” My brow furrowed. “Has he had any contact with Ryan . . . Szerain?” The cagey demonic lord Szerain had recently freed himself from his horrific imprisonment as Ryan Kristoff. He continued to maintain the persona of Ryan, but I didn’t know where he was or what he was doing.

Sonny shook his head. “Zack’s had me call him a few times, but it always goes to voicemail.”

“I know Ryan’s working, but he’s not answering my calls either.” It was one thing for Szerain to snub me, but blacklisting Zack was beyond the pale. Szerain wouldn’t even be here if Zack hadn’t kept him sane in his hellish prison for over fifteen years. “Let me know if he calls. Anything else I should know?”

“He talks in his sleep at times,” Sonny said with a small frown. “Not a lot, but there are a few words and phrases he repeats. Jill, Rhyzkahl, and Szerain I recognize, but the others must be a different language.” He paused, clearly trying to recall the sounds. “Ekeeree akar is the most frequent,” he finally said. “Sovilas mir nah shey. Zarbeck. Ashava.”

“I’ve heard a couple of them,” I said. “Nothing alarming, but I’ll keep them in mind.” I didn’t know what “akar” meant, but the Ekiri were an ancient race that abandoned the demon realm thousands of years past. Xharbek was Szerain’s demahnk ptarl, though he was deep in hiding for reasons unknown to me. I didn’t recognize Ashava or the longer phrase. “You have my number. Keep me posted on how Zack’s doing, please.”

“You got it, Kara.”

“You’re the best,” I said. And I meant it.

With that I headed for my car. Nearby, Eilahn leaned on the seat of her new Ducati motorcycle, her helmet under one arm, and her foot propped on the curb. With her sleek multiethnic look and hot chick body, she might as well have been posing for a motorcycle pinup calendar.

Her gaze slid to the front door of the house, and her face tightened into an expression of disdain. “I tolerate phone communications,” she said as she turned her glare on me, “but I do not approve of in-person consort with the kiraknikahl.”

I matched her syraza glare—hell, I doubled it. “Get. Over. It.” In the eyes of demons, Zack was a kiraknikahl, an oathbreaker, having openly shattered the most sacred and hitherto unbreakable oath—his ptarl bond to Rhyzkahl. I, how