Legacy of the Demon (Kara Gillian 8)

He groaned and threw an arm over his eyes to shield them from the midmorning sun. “A smith pounds his anvil within my skull.”

“Giovanni,” I said, “do you know where you are?”

“Earth. Louwheezy . . . Louisiana.” The words came out slowly, but clearly. “On the nexus?” He pushed up to sit cross-legged, squinting in the bright sunlight.

“That’s right. And if I told you I needed to drive my car to the gas station, would that make sense to you?”

He tilted his head up at me and frowned. “A mechanical wagon.” He spoke carefully as if choosing from a selection of words. “The car requires gas as the hearth fire requires wood. I understand this.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. I wouldn’t have to explain every technological advance made in the last three centuries. Sometimes this magic shit could be really handy.

Giovanni put a hand to his head. “There is much else I do not understand.” His forehead puckered. “And I know you, though we have never met.”

“That’s right, we’ve never met,” I said. “I think we need to continue this inside, where there’s food. And coffee.”

Pellini muttered agreement, and together we hauled up an unresisting Giovanni and marched him back across the yard.

“Giovanni Racchelli,” Rhyzkahl said in a clear voice when we were still a dozen feet from the porch steps. He stood, eyes intense on us as he drew breath to say more.

I started singing at the top of my lungs, drowning out whatever Rhyzkahl was trying to say. “Do your balls hang low, do they wobble to and fro.” Pellini grinned and joined in, deep baritone belting out the silly lyrics with me. “Can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow.” We hauled Giovanni up the steps and across the porch. “Can you throw them over your shoulder like a continental soldier, do your balls hang low!”

We slammed the door behind us.

Chapter 16

Somehow, I resisted the urge to flip Rhyzkahl off through the window, and instead helped get Giovanni into a chair. Pellini set two ibuprofen and a glass of juice in front of him, while I loaded up a plate with various pastries, bread, cheese, and fruit. If the dude had

been dead for three hundred years, he was probably hungry.

“Would you please give Bryce an update?” I asked Pellini. “We’re going to need a companion for our guest.” I dropped into the chair across from Giovanni and gave him my best friendly smile. “Go ahead and eat. I’ll answer your questions.”

He didn’t argue and tucked in like a starving man. “This is Earth, yes? But it is slip timed.” He shook his head. “Out of time.”

“Yes, time has passed since you were last in the demon realm.”

“You must send me back.”

“I can’t. I didn’t summon you.”

“I must return. Elinor needs—” He broke off, face paling by degrees. “Elinor.” His hand flew to his throat, and his eyes grew distant. “Call her,” he murmured.

“Giovanni,” I said gently, “she’s—”

Through bared teeth, he snarled a word. “Szerain.” He shot to his feet, chest heaving. “Szerain bade me call her only to bury his essence blade in her breast. Serpent! Betrayer! Most accursed of all of the qaztahl!”

“I’m sorry.” I kept my voice pitched low and even as I did my best to project calm.

Giovanni leveled his gaze my way as if seeing me for the first time. “Kara Gillian. What have you to do with this tragic tale?” He sank into the chair. “Call her. Call . . . you.”

“I heard you call,” I offered cautiously. “I thought it was only a dream memory of Elinor’s.”

“A nightmare.” He shook his head slowly, eyes unfocused. “And I am yet impaled upon its bloody claws.”

“Giovanni, what do you remember?”

Confusion knitted his brow. “How much time has fled since Elinor . . .” His eyes stretched wide in realization. “Since I . . .”

I took a deep breath before assailing him with the lovely news. “Over three hundred years.”