Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

Like an electric shock, resonance of Szerain’s signature shuddered through me. Yet in the next instant it slipped away. Pulse racing, I expanded my senses and traced the energy—right to Beaulac. Beaulac? No way. Had Szerain seriously been hiding under our noses this entire time? I zoomed in on the echo then screeched to a figurative halt.

“The hell?” I muttered. A dome of potency shimmered like an iridescent soap bubble over a ten-mile-wide circle, with downtown Beaulac smack dab in the center. I knew that dome hadn’t been there the day before. Moreover, Szerain’s signature echoed from somewhere within it, fading with each second that passed.

Baffled and worried, I probed the dome then, emboldened, sent my consciousness through its outer layer.

Xharbek. I felt his undeniable stamp on the dome like a prickle at the nape of my neck. But no hint of the AWOL four. I tried to push farther in, but my progress slowed, as if I was slogging through honey. It’s a shield, I realized in annoyance, yet with a hint of triumph as well. Xharbek must have constructed this after our encounter, which told me he’d narrowed down his quarry’s location to this ten-mile area and didn’t want me snooping around.

This was cause for a little mental boogie. My missing people were still missing, but this was the first definable progress I’d made toward tracking them down. Plus, if the shield was here to keep them from getting out and finding a new hiding place—like putting a cup over a spider—maybe I could figure out a way to pry up the edge, or at least peek in.

I pushed deeper, but had to stop almost immediately as a tangle of detached potency strands blocked the way. Usually this sort of worm knot writhed and disrupted the flows around it, but this one was stuck tight to the shield-dome and still as stone. Strange, but I figured that meant it should be simple enough to bypass. Yet when I attempted to skirt it, I received a mind-numbing jolt of badness that left me trembling, both physically and mentally, for half a dozen heartbeats.

Fine. I’d take the time to unravel it. No problem. I’d untangled dozens of potency knots over the last two months, and those were the thrashing, squirming kind. This would be a breeze.

A minute into the process, it kicked into life and began to wriggle, but I already had control of it. Plus, now I had no trouble seeing which strand I needed to pull to undo the knot. I gave it a tug, then watched with satisfaction as the tangle writhed like flailing worms. In a few seconds it would slither apart and settle into a nice, uncomplicated state, allowing me to continue on my merry way.

It began to expand—unusual, though most likely the precursor to separating out. But all thoughts of worm knots fled my mind at a feather touch. Exultation rose as I felt my AWOL four like an echoed whisper—Zakaar, Szerain, Ashava, and Sonny. The contact lasted only the barest of instants, but it was enough. They’re alive. And I know where they are. Well, almost. Still, “somewhere in the Beaulac area” was a tetch more precise than “somewhere in the universe or possibly on another plane of existence.”

Brimming with confidence, I returned my attention to the knot, startled to see that it had expanded even more. And the number of strands had at least doubled. My confidence melted into unease then shifted to outright dread as the knot began to pulse in a heavy, ominous rhythm that sent shudders of discord through the shield-dome and adjacent

potency flows.

Great. Wonderful. I’d gone and taken a stable construct and made it awful. Not only that, but it was my mess to clean up since it was Earthside. No chance that one of the lords in the demon realm would see the issue and fix it for me. I groaned. There was only one lord on Earth and available to possibly help me out. Crapsticks.

“Rhyzkahl,” I called out, hating it with every fiber of my being.

He didn’t emerge for nearly half a minute, long enough for me to wonder if he was doing another stand-and-defy-me. I really didn’t want to drag him out, since that would be a lousy preface to asking for his help. I was just starting to get antsy when he finally stalk-sauntered out. His expression announced I could not care less what you think or want to do, but a hitch in his bearing made me wonder if perhaps he’d chosen not to defy me this time because he didn’t have the confidence to test his power so soon after his last defeat.

I shoved down the flicker of sympathy. No time for that shit right now. “I need your help,” I said, not bothering to hide my worry. “Or advice, or whatever you can offer. There’s a really weird knot in the flows.”

Rhyzkahl crouched to inspect the irises beside his door. He cradled a rich purple bloom against his palm, caressed a petal with his thumb. “What can I do from within this prison?”

Aggravation swelled at his bullshit antics, but I managed to keep it from my voice. “You can tell me what to do.”

“What did you tamper with to cause such an issue?” he asked, tone smooth and snide. He shifted to pull a weed from a row of beets.

I scowled. “There was a worm knot over Beaulac. I’ve unkinked dozens of those with no problem, but this time it—” I broke off in horror as the blob pulsed, and flows from Greenland to Brazil flickered and dimmed. “Shit. Shit. The knot expanded and went crazy. It’s causing potency fluctuations all over the world.” I swallowed, mouth dry. “Rhyzkahl, I need help. Your help.”

He went stone still, hand an inch away from a plant, then stood in a fluid move. “Release me.”

My glare could have melted steel. “You know I can’t do that!”

“Then this issue must not be of grave importance to you.”

Before I could snarl a reply, a sudden gust of wind whipped my hair into my face, and a shadow fell over the nexus. Cursing, I shoved my hair out of my eyes only to see Rhyzkahl staring past me in open-mouthed shock. Expecting a threat, I whirled. Then stared.

A massive tree speared into the sky above us, with a trunk that spanned the five-foot gap from the inner edge of Rhyzkahl’s orbit to the lip of the nexus. A tree with a smooth, white trunk and leaves the color of emerald and amethyst, that towered over even the tallest pines on my property.

This was a demon realm grove tree.

My mind flopped and fumbled uselessly. I couldn’t even begin to comprehend the significance of a grove tree insta-sprouting on Earth, much less in my back yard. Yet I had no time to speculate. I reestablished my lord-view of the flows, heart sinking as I assessed. The knot was over ten times its original size, and a half dozen major flows were dull grey and stagnant. “It’s sucking the life out of the other flows,” I said in a voice that cracked and shook. “I think it’s going to burst!”

Rhyzkahl tore his eyes from the tree and gave me his full attention, arrogance and swagger gone. “Show me.”

“How?” I demanded. “How am I supposed to show you?”

“Find a way or open my prison.” His gaze lifted over my head and tracked down to me even as I felt a feather light touch on my shoulder.

A jewel-tone leaf shimmered against the maroon of my shirt. I reverently grasped the stem, and pins and needles prickled in my fingers as if they were waking up. I’d never held a leaf from a grove tree before. As far as I knew, no one had. Leaves didn’t fall from grove trees.