Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

“I tricked her and summoned Rhyzkahl,” I continued. “I told him that if he stopped her and saved Ryan, I’d agree to be his summoner.” I searched Mzatal’s face for some sort of reaction, but it remained impassive. “We agreed to terms: three years of service, I’d summon him once a month, and he’d answer two questions for me each time. He pulled a knife and cut my arm and his, then pressed them together and said it was done.” I exhaled and looked down at the delicately intricate arcane tracings that marked my forearm. Was that only a few months ago? It seemed like forever.

Mzatal shook his head slowly as though trying to process what I said. “A purported mark agreement, under duress, for only three years duration, and an exchange of two questions in return for being summoned to Earth monthly.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.

I scowled and shrugged. “It worked okay for me. And, anyway, what was I supposed to do? It was that or leave Ryan to have his essence consumed.”

Mzatal’s mouth tightened as he lifted one hand and touched my temple. “The blade he used—I need to see it.”

I debated resisting, but it was too late. Just his suggestion brought the memory to the surface.

A wicked blade shimmers with an oily blue sheen. Its hilt is covered in spikes that thrust between Rhyzkahl’s fingers. A dark blue jewel glimmers in the pommel, flickering with dim internal light.

“Enough.” He pulled his hand away and shook it as if to rid himself of the feel of the memory. “Rhyzkahl’s essence blade—Xhan—tainted with rakkuhr,” he said, the last word laced with vehemence. He looked down at the mark on my arm, lip curling. “That it was used to forge this increases my urgency a hundredfold.” He met my eyes again. “How did he fulfill the condition of stopping this woman?”

My unease grew. I had no idea why the blade made a difference, but it obviously meant a hell of a lot to Mzatal. I wasn’t thrilled about continuing to feed him information, but I also knew it was that or have him read it from me. “With the same blade,” I said. “He stabbed her in the heart and she turned to dust. He said she was a saarn.”

His grip tightened on my wrist. “This mark will come off, Kara Gillian.”

I gulped at the intensity of his words but managed to narrow my eyes in what grim defiance I could muster. “I’d like to get a second opinion.”

Mzatal spoke in rapid demon to Gestamar, who growled menacingly. When the lord returned his attention to me again, he spoke through clenched teeth. “Rhyzkahl seeks to regain Szerain’s blade. I will not allow that to happen.”

I ran through possibilities. “You’re going to try to get it first, aren’t you?” How did I fit into all of this?

“Yes. I will find and retrieve Vsuhl.” He lifted a hand, and for a bizarre moment I thought he was going to strike me. But in the next instant a knife appeared in his fist, long and narrow with shifting etchings along the blade itself and a silvery grey gem sparkling in the pommel. What I could see of the hilt below his fingers revealed what looked like delicately carved ivory. I had no doubt this was Mzatal’s essence blade.

Terror surged through me, and I recoiled as much as I could in the confines of my bindings. I knew, more than anything else in that moment, that I did not want that blade touching me or the mark.

“No!” I struggled against his grip, eyes on the blade. The presence of the grove wrapped around me, but it couldn’t dispel this deeper horror. “Please…no!”

His grip only tightened. “Kara, I must do this.” He brought the blade close to the mark. I could feel the mark recoil from the blade, and I let out a moan.

He bared his teeth as he set the blade flat against my wrist below the mark. Pain like fiery ants flared beneath my skin, and my breath came in shallow pants. I watched in mute horror as the outer coil of the mark twitched and lifted.

Agony seared through me as though part of my essence had been yanked and twisted, and I screamed. An unfamiliar power wound through me, and I seized it, lashing out wildly in my panic and pain. All I knew was that I wanted Mzatal to stop, wanted him away from me.

Mzatal staggered back, losing his grip on my arm as the patterns surrounding me shuddered, then fractured, sigils dissipating with whining cracks. As quickly as it had come into me, the strange power was gone, leaving me staring in shock at the flickering remnants of the diagram. My arm throbbed in dull pain, and I cradled it to me, wondering if my heart would pound right out of my chest. Mzatal had managed to undo a small part of the mark, but whatever the fuck I’d just done had at least kept him from doing more.

Not that I knew how long that would last. He stood a short distance from me, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. Potency swirled around him like a dark mist as he regarded me, head slightly lowered and blade clenched in his fist.

What the hell did I just do? My mind flailed unsuccessfully for an answer. He was surely going to kill me now.

He stepped in close with impossible speed. I jerked in the bindings, a breathless scream whistling from my throat. A snarl curved his mouth as he leaned close and drew a complex sigil in the air with the point of his blade. I fought back tears, trembling. What the hell did I do? I asked myself for what seemed the millionth time. I caught sight of Idris backed against the wall, and I had no doubt that the shock and horror on his face was reflected on my own.

Mzatal lifted his hand and in the next breath the blade was gone. He gripped my wrist again and laid the shimmering sigil upon my mark. “Rhyzkahl felt what was done; I have no doubt. This,” he said, stroking the sigil with his forefinger, “will serve as an alarm and deterrent until we resume again.”

To my relief the pain eased to nothing beneath the sigil. Gestamar stood. Mzatal spoke to him in demon, then shifted his attention to Idris. “Go with them,” he ordered. “Watch the mark. If there is any change in that sigil—even the barest flicker—you will lay an inverse attenuator diagram with my sigil as the focus and…Gestamar has his instructions.”

Idris paled and looked like he was about to throw up. “Yes, my lord,” he replied, voice quavering.

Mzatal looked back to where I stood. His face remained unreadable, but his eyes showed a flicker of…worry? Inquiry? It was impossible to tell, and I was far too shaken to be able to puzzle it out. He moved as if he was about to speak, then paused, turned away, and departed instead.

Chapter 10

In dismay, I watched him go, barely even noticing as Gestamar released the bindings and took my arm in a solid grip. “I don’t even know what I did,” I whispered.

“Come, Kara Gillian.” He led me to the doors and out as Idris followed behind.

I stumbled along, not making any attempt to resist. “What happened?”