Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian 6)

By the time I reached them, the debate between the two lords had been settled. Kadir stood back, his eyes on me, saying nothing, which was fine with me. Mzatal took my hand, and together we stepped onto the basalt and into the vortex energy of the nexus. I paused a moment, clung to his hand while I recovered my equilibrium, then moved carefully with him through the floaters to the center.

Mzatal laid his hand against the side of my face, caressed my cheek with his thumb. “I have much to do to prepare for my own departure,” he told me, “but I will be here, awaiting your summons, in twenty-four Earth hours.”

“You’d better be,” I said, smiling. “I don’t want to have to hunt you down.”

Kadir moved in my peripheral vision, and I riveted my focus on Mzatal’s face to help me avoid all thoughts of Creepshow’s involvement. After a lovely moment of saying goodbye, Mzatal released me and retreated to the perimeter of the diagram. Together, he and Kadir walked the full circle, then ignited the floaters with a dizzying rush of upward spiraling energy.

When I felt the ritual set, I slung the strap of my duffel over my shoulder, smiled and blew Mzatal an exaggerated kiss. “See you soon, Boss.”

The ritual coalesced around me like viscous slime, icy cold and smothering. My smile disappeared as alarm shot through me. This wasn’t right. I’d been summoned twice before and both times it felt like being dragged through shards of glass. Hideously unpleasant, yet this was far different. Worse, even though it didn’t have the same flaying pain.

The energy wrapped around me like the coils of a snake, squeezing the air from my lungs. I fought to suck in a breath, to move, to twitch, abruptly reminded far too much of the confining potency that had bound me during Rhyzkahl’s torture.

Mzatal and Kadir continued to work the flows side by side, focused and calm as though everything was going exactly as planned. But whose plan? I wondered as I fought against the rising panic. Suffocation sure as hell wasn’t in mine. Had Kadir found a loophole in Mzatal’s careful agreement? The potencies held me fast, pressed me inward upon myself, squeezed the breath from me. I struggled, consumed now with the need to get the hell out of the center of the nexus, to move, to do anything to stop this.

I felt Mzatal’s intimate touch flow through me, urging me to peace. Felt him. Felt the calm assurance.

It wasn’t enough to overcome the stab of primal terror, the memories of Rhyzkahl’s vile blade parting my flesh as I was held bound, immobile, far too similar to how the slime held me now. I tried to scream, to plead with Mzatal, but had no breath to do so.

Still Mzatal persisted, suffusing me with his steady presence, flooding me with reassurance and calm. He spoke, and though I couldn’t hear the words, I read them upon his lips, felt them in my core.

I am here, zharkat. Peace, beloved. Here, Kara. Here.

The panic slipped away, and I extended, met his eyes.

He lifted his hands and thrust them downward in a final gesture. The world twisted and, with a wrenching pull, the constricting slime and sunlight above gave way to weightlessness in silent, icy darkness. Cold seared through my bones, froze even the concept of movement. No sound, no scent, nothing but the void.

Warmth touched me, bringing a rippling discomfort like circulation returning to a limb. A moment later, I felt something solid beneath my feet, sensed my

legs buckling. Pain shot through my knees and palms as I caught myself and gasped in precious air.

I heard a man’s voice. A shocked curse. Ryan. Still breathing hard, I looked up in time to see him leap to his feet from where he’d been sitting on a futon in my basement. His laptop nearly dumped onto the floor as he did so, but he managed a lightning fast save, then slung it without further regard to the futon. “Kara!?”

Finally catching my breath, I sat back on my heels, gave Ryan a grin, and put aside evil thoughts of how I was going to kill Mzatal for putting me through that. “Miss me, sweetie?”

He rushed over and crouched beside me. “You okay?” he asked, eyes searching me for any indication I wasn’t. “I had no idea you were coming.”

“I’m good,” I said. “It was a rough and weird ride, but I’m good.” I gave him a grateful smile as he helped me to my feet. “Nice to see you again.”

His face lit with a smile and he pulled me into a hug. “Missed you around here.”

Smiling, I wrapped my arms around him, took in his familiar scent. “I missed you too. It’s good to be back.”

He released me then hooked a thumb over his shoulder toward the futon and other furnishings at the far end of the room. “And yes, I’m living in your basement,” he said, his tone colored with apology.

“You certainly are,” I said with a wry smile. Ryan and Zack had moved in when I was captive in the demon realm to help keep the place up, as well to be immediately on hand in the event of any new developments. Both were FBI agents, my friends, and so much more. Ryan was the exiled demonic lord Szerain, forced to live submerged as an unaware human, and named kiraknikahl—oathbreaker—by the demons. Zack was his demon guard and guardian, as well as my best friend Jill’s boyfriend and baby-daddy. I had no idea if Zack and Jill had discussed cohabitation, but considering that Jill was a pretty damn private person and that Zack needed to be living with or very near Ryan, I doubted they were shopping for a new house.

I swept my gaze around the basement, noting the evidence of manly habitation. Stacks of work files on the table, a pair of socks under the edge of the futon, a new small dresser and wardrobe against the far wall, an open bag of chips on the side table, trousers draped over the chair. I had a sudden hysterical image of Zack telling Ryan to take his mess downstairs where no one else had to see it. Not that it was really messy. But it was definitely lived in. “So. The temporary arrangement became more permanent?”

Chagrin flickered across his face. “Well, we thought that with everything going on with you and the demons, it’d be good to have a solid base of operations.” He drew a breath and released it in a rush, looking like a man desperately hoping to sell a wild idea. “Somewhere secure for you to come home to and for us to work from when you’re gone.” He tugged a hand through his hair in a familiar gesture. “And yeah, I know we didn’t ask. Hope you’re not mad.”

It hit me. Hard. These people were my friends, put their own lives aside and gave a shit about me, for real. Sure, I’d already known that in an intellectual way, but something about having it demonstrated so clearly hit me right in the warm-fuzzy-feely parts. And, damn it, I liked the idea of having Ryan around.

“Mad? Hell no,” I said with a broad smile. “That’s one of the coolest things anyone’s ever done for me.” I thumped him in the chest. “But don’t think I’m changing my morning groggy-sometimes-bitchy, pre-coffee routine just because you’re here.”

Ryan laughed. “I hope not. You wouldn’t be you without it.”

I looked him over. He wore navy blue sweats and running shoes, and the hair around his ears was damp, leading me to think he’d recently showered. Four months, and still much the same. Short wavy brown hair with a hint of red, rugged yet handsome face, and green eyes flecked with gold. But there were also new lines of strain around his eyes. “You resting okay?” I asked.