Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)
Jill came up from the basement, summoned by my shamelessly pleading text, since no way did I want to navigate the basement stairs with my wonky knee. After I filled her in on the events of our demon realm trip, I handed Elinor’s journal over to her with the request that it be photo-archived.
“I’ll get right on it,” she said. “You go get that knee checked out.”
“As soon as I look in on Pellini,” I promised.
“Fair enough.” With a crisp parting nod, she returned to the basement.
• • •
Pellini’s door was ajar, and a peek inside showed him sitting on the end of the bed, looking out the window. His hair was damp, which told me he’d caught a quick shower while I was involved with all the other shit.
I tapped lightly on the door frame. “Mind a little company?”
“Nah, come on in.” He gave me a slight smile. “Found out Kuktok made it through okay.”
“Dude, that’s fantastic!” I plopped into the chair beside the bed and cut right to the chase. “How do you feel?”
“Kind of tired but, overall, better than I’ve felt in decades.” Pellini snorted. “Kadir fixed me right up. I mean, everything. Knees, back, all the little aches and pains from being overweight. And . . . well, I already knew I wasn’t in the best of health, what with my high blood pressure and diabetes, but Kadir showed me that, even if the demon hadn’t ripped into me, I was going to bite it within a year or two.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. “How come?”
“I had a couple of b
lockages in my heart, plus a little cluster of cells in my liver that were ready to join the cancer club. Would’ve been a tight race to see which took me out first.” His words were light, but the catch in his voice revealed how freaked out he was. His gaze drifted out the window again to where the nearly full moon hung above the tree line. “Kadir took me . . . elsewhere,” he continued more quietly. “It was like the dreamspace but less shifty colors and more solid. And he wasn’t Mr. Sparkly. Just himself. Normal. I mean, as normal as he can be.” He drew a deeper breath as if amazed he could still do so. “He told me I was dead. Dead. Asked me if I wanted to stay or go, live or move on to whatever comes after.”
“That’s a hell of a thing,” I murmured.
His hand crept up to touch the sigil scar through his shirt. “Kara, there was a big part of me that was ready to let go. Like, everything would be lighter. No more pain or bullshit. And, hell, a few months ago I would have just . . . gone.” He jerked his hand down and tucked it under his thigh, as if he’d only just realized he’d been tracing the scar.
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
He gave a slow nod, brow furrowed. “When he asked me the live or die question, my first thought was of all the shit we’re doing to try and put both worlds right, and all the people who need my help.”
“We do need your help,” I said.
“Yeah. Go figure.” He grimaced. “I didn’t become a cop for any noble purpose. I had everything going for me coming out of college. My big plan was to work my ass off for a couple of years to squirrel away some cash for law school. But when Kadir abandoned me, and my mom passed away, I turned into a surly bastard. Ran my fiancée off within a month.” Old grief shimmered in his eyes. “That was the last straw. I didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone—especially myself—but I needed a job and thought being a cop would be cool, a way to get respect and have people look up to me. Of course the whole instant respect thing didn’t happen, because that kind of shit has to be earned. And my attitude was so lousy it only pissed me off when people weren’t falling all over themselves to kiss my feet.” He gave me a crooked smile. “Man, I was livid when you got promoted to detective. Here you were, young and sharp and getting all the attention I never got. Took me a while to figure out you were getting it because you fucking did your job and took pride in it.” His posture straightened subtly. “But I’m finally getting my act together and doing something right again. And when Kadir asked me to choose, I realized it’d be stupid to check out now when I have a chance to make a real difference.”
“If you keep this up, I’m going to start crying all over again,” I said. “I mean, not that I cried or anything when I thought you were dead.”
He chuckled then took my hand. “Kara, the other thing that tipped me to the ‘stay’ side was that I realized there were some people who would miss me. People like you who are apparently dumb or desperate enough to let me matter to them.”
I slugged him in his thigh even as my tears spilled over.
He gave a soft grunt, squeezed my hand before releasing it. “These past couple months have been fucked up in a lot of ways, but they’ve also been some of the best times of my life.”
“I never thought I’d have to be grateful to Kadir,” I said, “but I sure am now.”
A wince shadowed over Pellini’s face. “Yeah, well, he didn’t do it to be Mr. Nice Guy Humanitarian.”
I straightened. “He asked for something in exchange?”
“Not until he was certain I wanted to live.” Pellini’s eyes met mine. “The bastard was slick. He steered clear of deals he knew I’d turn down, even if it meant dying, and managed to nail one right on my moral line without going over.”
“It has to do with the sigil, right?”
“It’s tied to him, yeah.” He tapped his chest. “Kadir said something about you being the inspiration.”
My brows drew together. “I used his sigil scar to call him for Paul at the Spires and then again to get help for you.”