Sins of the Demon (Kara Gillian 4)

I swallowed. “Yeah, good conjecture there,” I muttered. “Why does Raymond Bergeron need a summoner?”

“Because the abilities of a summoner are required for the initial opening of a gate,” he answered. He tilted his head. “And if that summoner is bound into the gate by another summoner, it can then be opened and closed at the second summoner’s will.”

Figured. “And is he doing this with the goal of impressing Szerain and perhaps calling him?” I eyed the demon with a knowing smile and he gave a soft hiss of approval.

“I do not know his mind,” the reyza answered. “But there are other lords, and I’m certain you are able to conjecture the benefits of owning a gate.”

I shoved my hand through my hair. I could definitely conjecture what would happen if a sociopath like Tracy ended up with it. “If I destroy this,” I lifted my chin toward the diagram in front of me, “will it make it impossible for the gate to form?”

“No,” Kehlirik replied. “This merely refines and concentrates the power drawn from the portals.”

I frowned, disappointed.

“However,” he continued, “destroying it will cause the power flows to be weaker. It is far more likely that a skilled summoner could dismantle an unfocused gate.”

That was better. A lot better. “Did Raymond Bergeron screw up by not telling you to keep quiet about all this?”

The demon stood and spread his wings, baring his teeth in an unmistakable grin. “He did.”

I had the feeling the demon didn’t care much for Tracy/Raymond. Laughing, I retreated to the kitchen and found an empty plastic pitcher. After filling it to the brim with water, I returned to the door of the bedroom. “Just so we’re clear,” I asked, “you’ll only attack me if I enter the room, right?”

“That is correct, little summoner.” Clearly he knew what I was up to, because he shifted to the far corner of the room and shielded his book with one wing.

“Awesome.” I let fly with the pitcher of water toward the diagram, smiling in vicious satisfaction as the chalk lines blurred and melted into each other. I couldn’t feel the arcane, but I knew there was no way that diagram was still active.

I set the pitcher down and gave the demon a respectful bow. “My thanks, Kehlirik.”

“It was my honor, Kara Gillian,” he replied, bowing his head in response.

I started to leave, but then paused and turned back. “One more thing…would the wards surrounding this house prevent me from being summoned?”

The demon shook his head. “Those protections are far more specialized.”

Oh well, that was probably too much to hope for. “Okay, then, are you prohibited from altering the wards protecting this house?”

A deep rumbling came from the demon. “I am not.”

I flicked a glance to the book he was reading. “There’s this TV show that I think you’d really like.” I said, thinking of the space cowboy thing Ryan had strong-armed me into watching. I looked back to the demon. “If you could deactivate the wards, I’ll summon you as soon as is possible so that you can watch it.”

“These are terms I can and will abide by,” he answered, to my delight and relief.

I could tolerate watching the show again if it meant I wouldn’t have to puke on my way back out.

I headed to the front door. “Ryan, did you hear all that?”

“I did,” he said through the earpiece. “Tell Kehlirik I love him.”

“Like hell,” I replied. “I’d rather not piss him off.”

* * *

As soon as I got back in the car—without having to stop and puke, thankfully—I called Jill and put her on speakerphone to give her the rundown. “My next job is to figure out if there’s some way to block the portals so he can’t pull power from them,” I said after I caught her up. “Problem now is that I don’t know if that’s possible. Plus there are probably some other portals in play that he knew about before he started using enemies of mine to find these latest three portals.”

“I was thinking there might be other portals too,” Jill said. “I put this focus you just found on the map to see if we could maybe figure out where other portals might be, but it still isn’t all that clear. I mean, it’s not forming some recognizable pattern.”

I considered that for a moment while I absently toyed with the cuff. My eyes dropped to the mark on the inside of my left forearm. Without othersight it was practically invisible, like a faint and faded henna tattoo. “Well, unfortunately it might be part of a pattern that we don’t recognize. A sigil or a mark.”

“Sort of like constellations, right?” she replied. “If you only have half the stars of the big dipper, you’d never realize that’s what it is.”