Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian 6)

Chapter 8

I headed to the basement door, knocked twice. “Sorry, boys,” I called out, “but I need to charge my diagram.” I turned the knob and pulled, but the door didn’t open. Locked. Annoyance curled through me. It was probably exacerbated by the general shitty nature of the day, but in that moment, I didn’t care. It’s my goddamn house, I fumed. You can do all the repairs and cleanup and additions you want, but you don’t fucking lock me out of any part of it.

I went up on tiptoes to retrieve the key from the top of the doorframe, but even unlocked the door still refused to budge. Annoyance shifted to outright indignation as othersight revealed a clever little ward. Zack’s work, I knew, and completely impervious to my attempt to unwind it.

Controlling the urge to pound on the door and yell, I once again knocked.

When Zack finally opened the door, I leveled a glare at him. “I need to get into my basement to start my summoning prep.”

Zack regarded me, his face serious. “Will you do so quietly?”

The question didn’t do anything to improve my mood. “Sure,” I snarled. I pushed past him then headed quietly down the stairs, moved to the storage diagram and crouched. I deliberately didn’t look in Ryan’s direction, mostly out of pique though with a good measure of guilt. Sure, he’d been an ass to me, but I’d lost it when I should have walked away, considering his circumstances. Out of my peripheral vision I could see him supine on the futon, eyes closed. So much for making a statement by not looking at him.

Shifting to sit cross-legged, I started feeding potency into the diagram. Zack returned to kneel near Ryan’s head, clasped his hand and spoke soothingly in demon. Ryan was certainly unaware, maybe sleeping, but Szerain never slept—part of the horrible nature of his imprisonment.

Another pang of guilt wound through me. Ryan wasn’t playing a petty game of I’m-not-looking-at-you-because-I’m-pissed. Zack had him unconscious as he worked diligently to re-stabilize his world and Szerain’s.

Damn it, I shouldn’t have put him in that position in the first place. What was I thinking snuggling up to him? Talk about giving a confusing message. Too caught up in my own shit to think about the consequences, I couldn’t have come up with a better way to send him into a tailspin if I’d tried. I wanted comfort. Comfort food. Comfort friend. But I’d crossed the friend line, used Ryan, and been a needy jerk.

The guilt retreated at the realization. It didn’t change what had happened, but I now saw how I’d been stuck in an old pattern. I could beat myself up about today’s situation, or I could take the lessons and move on. Screw it. I was done with being so damn needy.

I listened to Zack’s fluent speech as I fed the diagram, let it soothe me like the murmur of a brook. Though I caught snatches of the demon words, I couldn’t understand it. For all I knew Zack was telling him the story of Little Red Riding Hood. While in the demon realm I’d grown used to understanding meaning, even though I couldn’t speak the language. The grove connection acted like a universal translator, and I missed it for that and so much more. I could live without it, but it sure was nice to live with it, kind of like indoor plumbing. I hadn’t realized how much I was used to its comfort, its presence—one of those things where I didn’t miss it until it was gone.

After about ten minutes I assessed the potency level of the diagram and found it nearly full. I sealed it and quietly retreated upstairs to check on Jill.

She still sat at the table. “I hate chocolate,” she said as she shoved the container away.

“That’s the hormones talking.” I gave her a weak smile. “Looks like Ryan and Zack are deep in discussion about some case. They barely noticed me. Sorry.” I hated lying to her. Zack needed to tell her something.

Disappointment flickered on her face, but she simply shrugged. “I guess it is the middle of a workday.” She glanced at the clock. “Yikes! Speaking of which, I need to get back. I took a long lunch, but now I’m running late.”

“I guess I’ll catch you later,” I said. “I won’t be summoning Mzatal until about eight tonight. You want to put off scoping out my awesome new boyfriend until tomorrow?”

“That’s probably a good idea. I need all the sleep I can get.” She put her hand on her belly. “The bean kept me up half the night kicking, then my neighbor’s dog started barking at about five. It didn’t last long, but I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Bummer. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” I paused, frowned. “What day of the week is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s Tuesday.” She stood, snatched a miniature chocolate almond bar from the container and slipped it into her pocket. “You okay on the year?”

“Yeah, sure.” I grinned. “Got that part down.”

Jill laughed. “Whew! Gotta run. Call me tomorrow.”

“Will do. Take care, babe.”

She gave me a quick hug, and I startled at the sudden jab in my midsection. I pulled back and stared at her belly.

“Holy shit,” I said. “No wonder you can’t sleep!”

Jill made a face. “She wants out. Now.” Her phone dinged. “Shit. They’re looking for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She snatched up her bag and dash-waddled to the door, leaving the house strangely quiet in her wake.

• • •

A long shower, real food, and a short nap worked wonders to recharge me and put some distance on the morning’s murder scene and the Ryan fiasco.

I looked at the basement door and sighed. It had been several hours. Hopefully, Zack had Ryan stabilized. Time to make the donuts.

I hesitated, then knocked twice.