Vengeance of the Demon (Kara Gillian 7)

The twelfth lord.

“And her name is Ashava,” I murmured.

Ramifications jangled in terrifying cacophony. Ashava was the child of a demahnk and a human. Did the same hold true for the other lords? Eleven demahnk. Ptarls. Guardians. Advisors.

Parents?

Demonic lord unfettered. Ashava. Perhaps she’d be able to think what she wished without fear of excruciating headaches. I already knew she could shapeshift. My heart lurched. Were all of the lords shapeshifters bound to a single form? And, if so, was it the Demahnk Council who had crippled them? Their own offspring? I brought my hand to my mouth, sickened.

And Szerain. He had to have known when he forged the sigil on my lower back that Ashava was a demonic lord. Was the sigil to help him, to help her, or to bind her into an alliance before she was even born? If he knew what she was, that meant he also knew his own parentage—which seemed impossible in light of the headache punishment for forbidden knowledge. But . . . maybe that was part of the reason the demahnk exiled and imprisoned him on Earth. Uncontrollable.

Too much to think about, and no sure answers at hand. I went to the sink and ran cold water, splashed my face and pressed cool fingers over my eyes. Let it go for now. Take a hot shower. Get some sleep. Lay it all out tomorrow. Yeah, deal with it later. Along with everything else.

Exhaustion gripped me as I dried my face and hands, so much that I almost missed the glow in the backyard. Frowning, I peered out the window. It emanated from the nexus—which had never glowed before. That much I was sure of.

I slipped out the back door and down the steps. The silvery pattern in the obsidian emitted a soft and natural radiance, like a myriad of luminous fish at the surface of a dark sea. A dozen feet from the slab, I halted and looked down, skin prickling. A five-foot wide swath of trampled grass ringed the nexus, with yet another five feet of untouched grass between slab and swath—as if someone had paced around and around the nexus for hours in a defined orbit, never straying from it.

My pulse quickened as I looked toward the far side of the slab. Standing with his back to me was a barefoot figure wearing nothing but a simple white shift. Tall. Broad-shouldered. White-blond hair.

Rhyzkahl. Like I needed this shit. Baring my teeth, I drew my gun. Not a pointless gesture with him diminished. If he’s still diminished, I silently warned myself. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Tensing, he spun as if startled—which made no sense considering the lordly mind-reading talent. He eased as he took in the sight of me then sauntered in my direction with the unhurried pace of a second hand around a clock. Yet I didn’t miss how he maintained his distance from the nexus and never stepped out of the band of trampled grass. Wary but curious, I backed away from the swath and kept my gun trained on him.

With a quarter of the circle remaining between us, he stopped and glared at me. Potency burns marred the left side of his face and hand, and the glow from the nexus revealed soot and grass stains on his silky white robe, along with a few streaks that appeared to be dried blood. His hair was still finger-length, but more sexy-tousled than bed-head now. Though my own attraction to him was non-existent to the point of revulsion, I could appreciate that he would always have that God Of Sex vibe to him.

“You have been industrious,” Rhyzkahl said with a disdainful flick of his fingers toward the new and improved nexus.

“You like?” I said, smile tight. “I’m taking an art class at the Vo-Tech. That’s my senior project.” I angled my head. “Why are you tromping around my backyard like a homeless romance-novel cover model?”

Frustration skimmed over his face, but he schooled it into a haughty sneer. “Why should I not? I find this mockery of a nexus amusing.”

I lowered my gun and holstered it. “You want to take it for a spin?” I asked, watching him. “Be my guest. Go ahead and hop on up there.”

His lifted his right hand as though he wanted to strangle me with it, fingers stiff, and palm marred by a deep burn. “I choose not to.”

“Pussy,” I said.

Rhyzkahl dropped his hand as he grappled for a response. “I cannot,” he finally said through gritted teeth.

I folded my arms over my chest and paced beside the swath toward where he stood. Two planets in different orbits. “You can’t touch the nexus,” I stated, “but you can’t leave it either.” I stopped and regarded him as a theory coalesced. “Mzatal trapped you.”

Rhyzkahl put on his scowly-haughty mask, but his eyes betrayed his fear. “He is anathema,” he spat.

“To you, yes.” I looked toward the woods and the pond trail then back to the orbit of trampled grass. “Mzatal’s gone hard core and kicked you out of the demon realm.” I said, piecing clues together. Rhyzkahl’s shoulders stiffened, confirming my hunch. Tapping my chin with one finger, I considered. “Because you weren’t pulling your weight?” I shook my head. “No. You were fucking up the balance. That’s why your realm kept getting more than its share of anomalies.” I chuckled as a muscle worked in his jaw. “You were like a black hole warping the fabric of space and time with no Zakaar to stabilize you, so Mzatal drove you to the valve,” I gestured to the potency burns on his face and hand, “and chained you here.” Not only that, Rhyzkahl couldn’t read me. Of that, I was certain. “Do I have it right? Mzatal gave me a pet lord?”

Rhyzkahl took a threatening stride to the edge of his orbit. “I am not your pet,” he snarled, vein throbbing in his forehead when I didn’t flinch.

“You just need to be tamed, that’s all,” I said with a soft laugh, delighted at the outrage and denial that bristled in his stance. I was probably enjoying this way too much, but I needed it after the day I’d endured. I glanced up at the sky. “It’s supposed to rain later tonight. If you’re a good boy, I might give you a blanket.”

Rhyzkahl made an inarticulate sound as I walked away, but I didn’t look back. As soon as Idris and Pellini came home, we were going to barricade that damn valve by the pond. I didn’t care how exhausted we were. No more surprise guests.

I continued inside an

d to the bathroom, stripped off my clothing and, finally, indulged in the searing hot shower I’d longed for since my arrest. I shampooed my hair three times, scrubbed every inch of my body with the loofah, then closed my eyes, stood under the spray, and let my mind empty.

Eventually, I felt clean and renewed on a number of levels. After drying, I wrapped a towel around me and padded to my room, pulled on shorts and a plain t-shirt then descended into my basement.

Idris’s duffle lay in a crumpled heap on the floor beside the futon, along with a pile of dirty clothing. Ryan’s belongings occupied the dresser and table, but I had a feeling they’d never be retrieved. Szerain still maintained the Ryan persona, but for how long? A pang of loss whispered through me. The Ryan I’d laughed and cried with was gone forever. I never got the chance to say goodbye.