Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

That’s not the same fucking thing as sending it away! I thought in frustration. Sure, it wasn’t in his hand anymore, but its influence remained damn near as strong. A tidal wave of dejection threatened to suck me under. Even though the fucking knife had nearly destroyed him, he still couldn’t—or wouldn’t—send it away.

And here I was, oath-bound to take both blades from him. Even diminished as he was, I couldn’t imagine wresting them away. How was I supposed to manage it when he returned to full strength?

I did my best to shake off the gloom. Nothing I could do about it right now. We’ll just stick a pin in that particular problem.

With Khatur sheathed, it was safe—safer—for me to go to Mzatal. I broke into a run but skidded to a halt when Ilana appeared a few feet beyond him. She wavered as if a strong wind would topple her. Her hide was a dull grey rather than its usual pearlescent white, and her delicate wings folded in tight as the rakkuhr retreated to leave her in a clear zone.

Without hesitation, I raised a protective rakkuhr veil around Mzatal. “Fuck off, bitch!” I snarled. “You’re not taking him.”

Ilana regarded me coolly with her large violet eyes, reminding me of a parent waiting for a child to get a tantrum out of their system.

“I can hold this shit all day,” I told her with a nod to the veil.

Her head tilted. “Can you, Kara Gillian?”

Of course I couldn’t, but that didn’t matter. The veil was a temporary barrier to keep her away from him until the others finished sealing the rift.

And then what? We couldn’t fight Ilana the way we’d fought Xharbek. Not only was I working with a reduced gestalt, but I sure as shit didn’t want to give Mzatal any excuse to call Xhan back to him. Besides, Ilana was his ptarl. He wouldn’t attack her without overwhelming provocation—especially manipulated as he was. And even if, by some miracle, the rest of us found a way to take her down, Mzatal would suffer terribly as a result.

I had to make a choice: Fight for Mzatal right here and now and almost certainly lose, or bide my time and take action later. I had to hope that with Xharbek gone, the lords and the worlds weren’t in the same peril as before. Even though Ilana would most likely continue to follow the course he’d laid out, she wasn’t crazy. If I was reading matters right, she wouldn’t stoop to Xharbek’s level of machinations to circumvent the constraints. Moreover, until she herself proclaimed, “Fuck the lords,” I had zero reason to believe she’d do Mzatal permanent harm.

Allowing her to take him now was the right choice. And I fucking hated it. Nausea roiled my stomach at the hideous unfairness of it all. I wanted to shriek and stamp my feet and give Ilana a true temper-tantrum, but instead I simply dropped the rakkuhr veil away from Mzatal.

I’m so sorry, my beloved.

Ilana helped him to his feet with a tenderness that made me want to scream. Mzatal drew himself up straight, cast an assessing look around, and met my eyes.

It lasted for less than a hundredth of a heartbeat, but it might as well have been eons. The walls still stood as a formidable barrier around his essence, but that whisper-thin crack remained. Ilana couldn’t read or sense the bond and had no idea the crack was there. Mzatal didn’t dare widen it and risk drawing her attention, but he also wouldn’t close it or repair it. He needed that crack, needed me more than the walls.

Through it his essence radiated, suffusing me with him. And, for that hundredth of a heartbeat, I had a glimpse of his perspective—how he foresaw events and actions, and planned thousands of moves in advance.

And, how he so often had to make terrible, heartbreaking choices, like the one I’d just made, where the only solace was the hope that it would turn out all right, and that the other party would someday understand.

His gaze swept past me as if it had never stopped, eventually returning to Ilana. He offered her a slight smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

And then they were gone.

Chapter 47

“Auntie Kara!” Ashava called out.

Auntie Kara? Hey, that was me! I turned and ran to her. “What’s up, kid?”

“The dimensional pocket is collapsing!” Worry twisted her delicate features. “You have to get Zakaar and Uncle Sonny. Right now.”

“Do I just reach for them like I did for you?”

Ashava gave a quick little nod as she wove a segment of the rift seal with Rhyzkahl. “I’ll help.” Her voice was a touch higher than usual, the only evidence she was flustered. “Mom! Put your hand on my back, then hold Auntie Kara’s hand.”

Jill hurried to comply. The instant she touched me, Zack’s presence fluttered into my awareness, weak and unsteady.

“I got you, big guy,” I murmured. Trusting Ashava’s support to guide me, I reached and made instant contact, then braced as Zack used me like an anchor point to haul his way through the interdimensions.

A heartbeat later, Sonny and Zack tumbled onto the spongy asphalt. Frost crusted their skin, and Sonny’s face had a disturbing blue cast to it. He rolled to his back and sucked air in desperate gasps. Zack lay still and staring, face twisted in a grimace of pain, and body semitransparent as if he were part ghost.

Jill ran and dropped to her knees beside him. “Zack!” She shot me a frantic look. “Kara, do something!”

“I’m working on it,” I said, even though I had no idea how to cure a failing demahnk.