Sins of the Demon (Kara Gillian 4)

“How does this killer know that all these people fucked with your life?” she asked, sobering.

I rubbed my eyes. “Dunno. Damn near everyone knows about my history with Thomas, and I guess it wouldn’t be too hard to find out about my dad’s death. But Barry Landrieu? Only a few people know about that.”

Jill opened her mouth to speak then closed it as Pellini approached.

“Betcha it’s a drug overdose,” he said as he did his best to hoist his pants a little higher under his gut. “Fucking loser. What the fuck did you ever see in that dickhead, Gillian?”

Spreading my hands, I said, “Dude. I plead temporary insanity.” I knew the answer, though. I was lonely and desperate, and Thomas acted like he understood the lifestyle of a cop. After all, he’d been a fireman. Of course, later I found out that he’d been fired for a laundry list of infractions—everything from insubordination to violations of safety protocols that put his coworkers at risk.

Pellini huffed out a breath under his mustache. “He was a fucking whiny bitch, too. I was booking a prisoner into the jail same time he got brought in, and he was crying like a little kid who’d lost his puppy. What a dumbfuck.”

“You won’t get any argument from me,” I said.

He waddled off. Jill watched him go, then shot her attention back to me. “The jail,” she said. “These people all went through the jail here.”

I blinked. “That’s right.” I thought furiously for a moment. “And…my name would be in the records, in the victim impact statements.”

“Which means that whoever the summoner is, he or she has access to the arrest reports!”

“But it’s been long enough that those are public record now,” I pointed out, wincing. “That could be anybody.”

Jill frowned. “True. But what are the odds that whoever’s doing this saw you listed as a victim somewhere and then decided to see if there were any other instances? Isn’t it more likely that someone interested in finding people you didn’t care for would check to see if you’re listed as victim on any police reports?”

I considered her theory. It made sense. More sense than the theories I already had, which were nonexistent. “It’s possible,” I admitted, “but that’s still an insanely large pool. Not just law enforcement, but anyone who works in records, the DA’s office, the public defender’s office.…”

“Okay, okay!” She held her hands up in surrender. “But we can rule out David the barista, right?” she said with a laugh.

I tapped my chin. “Fine. We can eliminate David the barista as a suspect. For now! But if he turns out to be our summoner, then I’ll never let you live it down.”

“Deal!”

My phone buzzed with a text message from Tessa.

.…portal just below surface. Pls put wards back after they scrape turd off the lawn.

“Damn,” I muttered, stomach sinking. I glanced over at Jill. “Portal at the Nature Center. There goes my last hope that all of this was one big happy coincidence.”

She winced. “And still no clue what these portals are for?”

“Nothing solid.”

“So what now?”

“First, I’ll restore my aunt’s wards,” I said. “But after that…Well, three people are dead, I’m the most likely suspect, and I have no idea what direction to go next.” I flashed her a tight smile. “Therefore, I’m going to go home and go to bed.”

She gave my arm a light punch, smiled. “For once, you have your priorities in order.”

Chapter 13

I made my way down the broad corridor, the stone floor smooth and cold against my bare feet. Light filtered through tall, broad windows covered with grime. A few were broken, and through the gaps I could see clear blue sky and distant mountain peaks. Along the walls hung tapestries that had probably once been vibrant and colorful, filled with dynamic scenes. Now most were in tatters, and those few that remained were too faded and stained to make out more than the occasional figure. A man in armor. A woman reaching for a flower. A reyza perched on a stone. Lanterns hung between the tapestries, heavy iron things with wells at the bottom that had probably held oil at one time. But now they were cold and dark, smeared with soot.

The hem of my dress brushed the stone with a soft susurration, and I slowed, not wanting to make even that much noise, even though there was no one nearby. I knew that. No one in the entire structure.

Frowning, I looked down at what I was wearing. A dark blue gown, intricately embroidered in silver thread with a pattern that I had trouble focusing on. Some sort of ivy perhaps. Or birds. Or birds in ivy.

I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. I could feel the rush of air through my lungs, taste the dust of the place, feel the warmth of my expelled breath on my lips.

But I knew without a doubt that I was dreaming.