Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

“You need rest,” Rhyzkahl said, holding his hand out to the reyza without looking. “We can speak more on the morrow.” The reyza pressed something into Rhyzkahl’s hand, and a breath later the lord slipped the collar back around my neck and sealed it.

I recoiled in shock. “Wait! Why are you putting this back on me?”

“All is not secure yet,” he said in a soothing tone. “It must remain in place for now.”

“For how long?” I asked in dismay.

“Until it is safe to remove it.” His eyes were steady on mine. “Regrettably, it must chafe a time longer. Go and rest now. Pyrenth will escort you to your chambers.”

I couldn’t even manage a smile for Rhyzkahl as he leaned in and kissed my forehead. He turned and departed, and as soon as he was gone, the reyza stepped to my side.

“I am Pyrenth, and I greet you anew.”

“I am Kara Gillian,” I replied numbly.

He inclined his head. “Follow me, Kara Gillian, and I will take you to your resting place.”

I did so, thoughts tumbling jaggedly as Rhyzkahl’s words settled upon me with crushing weight. Around me, the palace glimmered in white demon-marble, lofty of ceiling and accented with richly colored tapestries and furnishings. We entered a vast great hall with massive twin curving staircases on either side leading up to the next level. The floor contained an intricate mosaic of some sort of blue-gold polished stone that began in the center of the hall with a small and subtle pattern and spread out to the walls in more and more complex forms like a fractal. The walls seemed to be a simple rich blue at first, but as I moved the color very gradually shifted into varying hues of blue, silver, and gold. It rivaled Mzatal’s summoning foyer for the award of Most Fucking Impressive Room I’ve Ever Been In, though I wasn’t in the best mood to fully appreciate it.

By the time we got to the top of the stairs, I was completely and utterly done with this day and with mortal danger and with intense, angry demonic lords. Fortunately for all concerned, before I could let loose with a verbal barrage or any other violence, Pyrenth guided me into what were obviously going to be my quarters.

Well, it sure as hell isn’t a cell, I thought in stunned silence as Pyrenth gave me the nickel tour. I’d been allotted a luxurious set of rooms that were nicer than the penthouse in a five-star hotel. Not that I’d ever stayed in any room in a high-end hotel, much less the penthouse, but I’d watched enough movies to have a decent sense of what it would be like. Opulent main room with couch and fireplace, dining area bigger than my kitchen back home, enormous bedroom containing a massive bed and a wardrobe of dark red wood, a long balcony bounded by a stone parapet with a carved wooden rail on top, and a bath chamber with a tub damn near large enough to swim in.

“The faas have brought a meal for you,” Pyrenth said with a gesture to the table as we returned to the main room, where there was enough food of sufficient variety to feed me for a week. At the sight and smell, my stomach woke up and not-so-gently reminded me that I hadn’t eaten anything since…damn…since before we’d left Szerain’s palace. No wonder I was cranky.

“There is clothing in the wardrobe in the bedchamber,” Pyrenth added. “If you require anything else simply touch the sigil by the door.”

I managed a nod and a polite smile, and as soon as the reyza departed I fell upon the food with very unladylike gusto. As my hunger faded, my fatigue increased, but I continued to eat until I realized I was nodding off with my fork halfway to my mouth.

Pushing away from the table, I gave an even more unladylike belch, then tottered into the bedchamber, kicked off my shoes, and barely made it under the covers before collapsing into sleep.

Chapter 12

The mug of chak in my hands steamed in the chill morning air as I stepped out onto the balcony. A chaise lounge upholstered in maroon velvet nestled against the wall, along with a small table of the same dark red wood as my wardrobe. Large stone pots in the corners of the balcony held trees at least ten feet tall with gracefully draping limbs and blue-green leaves as large as my hand. Smaller planters along the wall contained a variety of purple and yellow flowers of varying hues. A gentle scent drifted around me, like vanilla and roses, and I couldn’t help but sigh in pleasure at the entire effect, despite being weirded out by everything else going on.

Wards and sigils flickered along the edge of the railing, and I cautiously extended my hand past them. Beyond the parapet frigid air touched my hand, which told me that at least some of the wards were there for climate control. My hand didn’t meet any resistance, so apparently none of the wards were meant to contain me. Then again, the three-story drop was probably sufficient for that purpose. I didn’t bother trying to get a better look at the wards. With the collar on it was too difficult to see any details, and I knew it would only leave me frustrated and annoyed.

I gazed out toward the grove while I did my best to parse the uneasiness that plagued me. Smaller trees, leafless for winter, clustered around the white trunks of the grove which were crowned in vibrant green and purple leaves as though on a midsummer day. Little bat-bird things fluttered through the canopy, their cries melodically sharp. Craggy, snow-covered mountains rose close beyond—steep and austere, with a beauty of their own, and distinctly different from Mzatal’s green realm. To the right, cliffs fell away to a turquoise sea.

I wasn’t a prisoner. At least I didn’t seem to be one. Not only were my rooms beyond awesome, there’d been enough clothing ready and waiting for me in the large wardrobe—including the fluffy robe and slippers I had on now—to lend plenty of credence to Rhyzkahl’s claim that he’d fully expected to retrieve me.

Yet I still had this fucking collar on.

Maybe my problem was that too much had happened too fast? I’d been in the demon realm for less than three full days, and I’d spent most of that time in a constant state of stress and fear—when I wasn’t injured, passed out, or asleep, that is. I haven’t had a moment to think, I realized. And even here, where I’d thought I’d be safe, I remained unsettled.

I knew it was the right decision to escape, to come here. It was pretty obvious I needed to get the hell away from Mzatal, and besides, where else would I go? This was an alien world, likely teeming with all sorts of unknown perils. Going anywhere else would be complete and utter stupidity. And I was Rhyzkahl’s sworn summoner. This was the most logical place to seek help and sanctuary. Yet, as much as I understood the reasoning behind the way Rhyzkahl treated me last night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something felt off. Then again, I also accepted that my entire state of mind these past few days was pretty much a mess. I didn’t know what the hell to feel or believe anymore.

I need some time to think. That’s all. In a perfect world I could go spend a few quiet hours in the middle of nowhere with no one around—no humans, no demons, no lords—where I could think about everything that had happened without any fear of distraction, or worry, or concern that a lord was reading my thoughts. So far the only advantage of this damn collar was that it seemed to diminish these lords’ ability to read me, but that was a nebulous blessing at best.

The pale morning sun slanted through the brilliant colors of the grove, and a light wind stirred the trees to a soft murmur that seemed to speak a message meant only for me. A sensation of comfort and ease crept through me as I watched the mesmerizing flow of leaves.

Light. Air. Spaciousness. Peace. Deep peace.

I took a sip of the chak, surprised to find that it was cold. My bafflement increased when I realized that the sun had shifted position considerably. Apparently I’d been standing out on the balcony for a couple of hours while I contemplated the grove. So much for my plan of considering my options.

Musing on that, I finished off the cold contents of my mug and returned inside. Nearly midday now, and Rhyzkahl still hadn’t come to see me. Not that I was pining for him or anything, but it added to the overall feel of weirdness. Still, I was fully able to accept that I was neurotic enough and paranoid enough—especially now—to be blowing his absence way out of proportion. Maybe he was simply enjoying a leisurely breakfast, or working out, or sipping chak over the crossword puzzle in the demon realm newspaper. I grinned at the mental image. What’s a six letter word for ‘reyza dung’?

After a quick bath, I searched through the available clothing and scrounged up a long-sleeved shirt in a purple so rich I could hardly believe it was real and pants that were a lot like jeans but of a softer, somewhat thicker material than denim. I added a hip-length jacket, a light scarf, and knee-high boots, then checked myself out in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I grinned. Yep, I was as overdressed for the cold as any southerner had a right to be.