Touch of the Demon (Kara Gillian 5)

It took a moment for me to gather why saying as much would have such an effect on Mzatal; he had already suspected Jesral’s involvement. Then I realized, My Dad’s death was nineteen years ago. Whether Jesral had been involved with Katashi that long or had an independent Earth presence, I didn’t know, but both possibilities held their own brand of ugliness. Of course, there was always the chance that Jesral wasn’t involved at all, but given the clues and his behavior to me, his innocence seemed unlikely.

“I will have answers from Katashi tonight,” Mzatal stated, voice tight.

I drew a ragged breath, nodded, then released him to step away. He seemed reluctant to let me go, and I wondered if maybe he wanted comfort and reassurance as much as I did. Not that a demonic lord would ever admit something like that.

“Isn’t Katashi your sworn summoner?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you know if he was doing shit behind your back?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “He is. And I should know.” He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to look out into the open space. “However with another qaztahl involved, and the possible use of rakkuhr, there are many possibilities for blurring and interference.”

“What will you do with—” I started to ask, then shook my head and turned away. “Nevermind.” I realized I didn’t want to know what he would do with a traitor of that depth.

He inhaled, expression hardening. “I have been blind.”

I shoved a hand through my hair, exhaling. “Yeah, well, I know how it feels.”

“Yes, you do.” He turned to face me and laid his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

I looked up at him, my throat tight. “Betrayal sucks. I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

A muscle in his jaw leaped. “I have been many things, but rarely a fool.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Hang on now. You didn’t let me wallow in self blame, so you’re deluded if you think I’ll let you.”

He lowered his head slightly, and a smile ghosted over his lips. “You speak truth, Kara Gillian. I will cease to wallow.”

“That’s more like it,” I said, managing a smile. “How long before this damn summoning? Is there time for ice cream or junk food or anything good like that?”

“Idris should be ready very soon,” he said. “The ice cream will need to wait until after, unless you choose it over the summoning.”

I made a big show of hesitating and considering, then finally heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll do your damn summoning.” Especially since it looked like it was going to be a doozy of a confrontation with Katashi. The cop in me wouldn’t miss that for a million bucks. “But I do need to go change.”

Mzatal dropped his hands from my shoulders and raised an eyebrow. “What you wear is inadequate?”

“As if!” I rolled my eyes.

Mzatal smiled just a bit more. “Go then.”

I turned and headed out, but once outside the workroom, my smile quickly faded. The cop in me was ready for a confrontation with Katashi, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that some bad shit was coming our way.

Chapter 30

After grabbing a quick bite, I bathed and dressed in flowing crimson pants and a black wrap-type shirt that belted at the waist with a broad white sash. Apparently the zrila really liked the challenge of making clothing for someone new, and I wasn’t about to complain. I’d never been any sort of clotheshorse before—preferring the easy comfort of jeans and t-shirts—but I’d also never had a team of designers making custom clothing for me either. I could totally get used to this, and was already plotting ways to bring my new wardrobe back to Earth.

If I ever get back to Earth, I thought with a sudden burst of homesickness. I did my best to push it aside while I allowed Faruk to coil my hair up into something cool and intricate. By the time I finished preparing and stepped out into the main room, Mzatal had returned and was patiently waiting for me.

“I’m ready,” I said, doing my best to keep at bay the insistent trepidation of being in the chamber with a ritual, any ritual. Fucking Rhyzkahl.

His eyes traveled over me, assessing. “You are indeed.” He took my hand. “Come.”

Mzatal’s hand felt good in mine. Strong, comforting, and simply present. And, as much as I hated to admit it, I was grateful for the contact. Some of the tension within me eased as we exited and headed to the summoning chamber. I didn’t have to participate, simply observe. That was safe enough.

Idris crouched in the center of an impressive pattern. He looked up as we entered and gave me a quick smile before returning his focus to the diagrams.

Mzatal gently disengaged from my hand to go examine a nearby section of the pattern. I crouched and peered at the tracings, fascinated by their beauty and complexity. I understood some of the sigils now, saw how they linked together. No way could I lay a pattern like this yet, but it was wonderful to start seeing that there really was a pattern.

“Dude. This is amazing.”

Idris’s gaze jumped to me and then back to the diagram as a proud smile spread across his face. “Thanks.” He made a final tweak to a section, then stood. “My lord, it is ready.”