“No prob, Kara. I hope it helps you guys out.”
I hurriedly changed into jeans and a T-shirt with the Glock emblem on the front while slugging down as much coffee as I could without burning my mouth. Twenty minutes later, I was at the jail, waiting for the girl to be brought into an interview room.
Michelle Cleland had the ultraskinny frame, sunken cheeks, and beaten-down cast to her eyes that told me that she’d been on crack or some other highly addictive substance for a while. I glanced quickly at her booking sheet for her age. Twenty-three. Damn hard to tell by just her appearance.
She looked at me sullenly as she sat down, though there was a flicker of bravado about her as well. I could see by her driver’s license photo that at one time she’d been pretty. Nice smile, long brown hair, and big brown eyes with a scattering of freckles across her nose. Not anymore. She’d probably be dead in a few years from an overdose.
“Hi, Michelle,” I began. “I’m Detective Kara Gillian.”
Michelle slumped down in the chair. “I already talked to the narc guy and told him who I bought the shit from.”
“That’s not what I want to know.”
Michelle looked up at me uncertainly. I kept my expression serious. “I’m going to go ahead and read you your Miranda warnings, but I’ll tell you right now I’m not looking for any information that’s going to get you into any more trouble.” I quickly ran through the required rights and Michelle dutifully signed the form.
“All right,” I said, as I put the form away. “Now that that’s out of the way, I have some questions to ask you about these.” I pulled out the pictures and the drawings from Greg Cerise’s house and spread them on the table.
Michelle leaned forward, breath catching in surprise. “Oh, my God. That’s me!” She touched a drawing that depicted a woman drawing water from a well. In the picture, the woman was dressed in a simple clinging shift, with her hair pulled back into a loose braid. She was beautiful and smiling, looking over her shoulder at something or someone not depicted in the drawing. Another picture showed the same woman, but this time she was belting on a sword and the expression on her face was harder, determined, but by no means defeated.
“Oh, wow. Wow. I almost look good.” Michelle slumped back down in the chair, clearly saddened by the reminder of how far she’d fallen.
“Yeah. You’re a pretty girl. And these are incredible drawings. What do you know about the artist?”
The girl shrugged. “Dunno. He was just this guy who hung out at the park and would give people like ten bucks or so to let him take their picture. He was always drawing or taking pictures.”>He’s Catholic? The insanely out-of-place thought came to me even as I renewed my struggles against the grip on me. “Ryan! Run!” I cried out. “You can’t hurt him!”
Ryan’s eyes flicked to me, then came back to Rhyzkahl. He lifted his gun, holding it with both hands and sighting carefully. “Let her go, asshole,” he said, voice quavering only barely.
Rhyzkahl’s eyes narrowed to azure slits as he regarded Ryan. “You have not the means to stop me.”
“Ryan,” I gasped, “the gun won’t do you any good. Just fucking run!”
Rhyzkahl laughed, then began to slowly tighten his grip on me, his eyes on Ryan. I coughed, scrabbling frantically at the hand as my breath was constricted.
“Let her go!” Ryan shouted, stepping farther into the room, gun trained on Rhyzkahl.
No, damn it, Ryan, I thought frantically. Just run!
Rhyzkahl merely smiled and tightened his grip.
Ryan shot a quick glance to me, then looked back to the Demonic Lord. “You were warned,” he said, voice steady now.
The sound of the gunshot slammed through the small room, and a picture on the far side of the room exploded into fragments. But I knew the bullet had passed through Rhyzkahl’s head.
And left no damage in its wake.
“Ah, fuck,” Ryan breathed, taking a step back.
Rhyzkahl tilted his head back, inhaling and lifting a hand. I froze as I saw the power coiling swiftly into his control, a blue-black arcane maelstrom in the palm of his hand. Ryan could see it, too, and his eyes went wide. But there was no time for him to do anything about it. Rhyzkahl unleashed the force, casting it into the flesh of the one who had attacked him, lifting Ryan off his feet and sending him crashing into the wall.
I let out a choked cry as Ryan crumpled beneath the gaping hole in the wall, blood trickling from his mouth. I stared in horror, silently screaming at him to move. No … not you. You can’t be dead! Oh, please …!
Rhyzkahl released his grip on me and straightened, eyes flashing in satisfaction.
I scrabbled to get off the bed, hideous thick sobs welling in my throat as I tried to get to Ryan, but Rhyzkahl seized me by my hair before I could escape his reach. He yanked me close, twining the hair in his grasp savagely, wringing a new cry of pain from me.
“He is not worth your attention, dear one. A piteous creature who does not even know himself.”
“He’s not piteous!” I flailed at his hand, gaining small satisfaction in striking out at him even though I knew it didn’t hurt him.