Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

Safar took hold of my arm in a careful grip, steadying me. “I am Safar, summoner.”

“I’m Kara Gillian,” I managed.

“Fair greetings, Kara Gillian,” he rumbled as he gently moved me toward the door. “Come.”

I didn’t resist and moved where he directed. A numbness descended on me as he led me through corridors, and my headache receded somewhat as we moved further away from the room and broken window. It still hurt, but now it was more like bad-hangover than alien-about-to-burst-from-my-forehead. Even my nausea retreated. Now I was mostly starving.

“Gestamar is having a draught prepared for your headache,” the reyza told me as he maneuvered me through a debris-strewn hallway.

“Oh. Thanks,” I said. Not Mzatal. Gestamar. Maybe Mzatal didn’t give a fuck how miserable I was. Hell, there was no maybe about it.

My heel came down on a shard of glass as we walked but, to my surprise and relief, no slicing pain came with it. Remembering, I lifted my arm and peered at the long scratch from the window. It was an owie and little more.

“What is this stuff?” I said, nudging a piece with my big toe. “It’s not real glass, is it?”

Safar snorted. “It is very real, though not made like the glass of Earth. It is closer to a resin. Stronger, insulates against heat and cold more effectively, and does not cut like your glass.”

Without Gestamar breathing down my neck I could slow down enough to take in more of Szerain’s palace. I had to wonder how much of a hand he had in its actual creation since the whole thing was like a work of art, mostly curves and graceful arcs—even the doors—with sharp angles kept to a minimum. Portraits, paintings, and statues were ubiquitous—humans, demons, and some—well, I didn’t have a clue. Déjà vu integrated like an extra sense. At first it freaked me out; little things like knowing how many windows would be in the next room or which hallway might lead outside. It wasn’t always right, but enough for me to have no doubt Elinor had spent some time here.

Safar finally entered a chamber that wasn’t my cell. A big window draped in dust-free emerald silk dominated the far wall of a room about the size of my bedroom at home. In other words, not very big. A comfy looking chair of golden velvety stuff nestled by the window. A larger table and matching chair of heavy oak or similar wood dominated the center of the room. Déjà vu reigned supreme in here, and I knew without doubt that a bedchamber was beyond the closed door on the wall to the right.

Safar guided me into the chair at the table and then released me. I sat gratefully, rested my elbows on the table and rubbed at my head, grimacing. He stepped back into the corridor for a brief moment then returned with a mug that he placed before me. “From Gestamar,” he stated.

I took the mug and peered briefly at the contents. Couldn’t tell a damn thing about it except that it was liquid and it had a weird and tangy scent. Fuck it. It wasn’t as if this day could get any worse if the stuff turned out to be foul.

I slugged it down with only a slight grimace. It wasn’t vile, though I doubted I’d be asking for seconds.

“Your chambers are here,” Safar said as I placed the empty mug on the table. “Bed and bath there.” He gestured toward the door with a claw.

“My chambers?” I said. “You’re not taking me back to that other room?” My spirits dared to rise a few millimeters.

He crouched and shook his head. “Dahn.”

I peered at him. “How hard is it to learn y’all’s language?” I asked, pretty sure it was hard as hell given the gutturals, stops, and sounds that were just plain weird. Kri meant “yes” and dahn meant “no.” I’d picked that up from my dealings with demons through the years but not a lot else, since the demons I summoned all spoke or at least understood some English.

Safar spread his wings in a bone-popping stretch then settled them again. “Difficult for humans. Most who spend time here learn some words and phrases. Few become conversant. Only three have gained fluency.”

Most Who Spend Time Here. Well, let’s just hope I’m not here long enough to learn more than a few phrases. I grimaced and amended my mental statement. And not because some asshole lord decides to kill me because he thinks I’m a threat to his world.

“So, what do I do now?” I asked.

He peered at me. “Eat, bathe, rest, whatever you choose short of killing yourself or leaving the grounds.”

“Eat?” I asked as my stomach gave an accompanying growl. “Real food?”

He bared his teeth. “Kri…yes. It will be here soon.”

I eyed him dubiously. “Not that broth stuff, right? Real, solid food?”

Safar rumbled in what might have been amusement. “Real, solid food.”

My spirits rose a couple of inches this time. “Any chance I can get clothing? Underwear? Nifty shit like that?”

“In the bedchamber, awaiting.”

Now for the money question. I pursed my lips. “What about a toothbrush?”

“You will find the basics in either the bedchamber or the bath chamber.”