Blood of the Demon

Chapter 9

We didn’t polish off the entire gallon—though not for lack of trying—but it was enough for us to get past the weirdness of the evening.

I’d never had a close friend. Ryan was the closest I had, but I’d known him for only a few weeks. And the demons hate him, I had to remind myself. Or at least Kehlirik does. Why? And how the fuck did any of the demons even know him well enough to hate him? I liked Ryan. I really did, but I couldn’t ignore my doubts any longer. And there was also an insecure part of me that wondered if we were friends only because he knew about me being a summoner and he could sense the arcane too.

But now Jill knew about the arcane and the summoning and was cool about it. Or maybe she wasn’t cool about it, but she was going to pretend to be cool about it for my sake, and that was all I could hope for. I trusted her.

And how much do I trust Ryan? the quiet voice whispered at the back of my head.

I’d ended up telling Jill everything about the Symbol Man case—all of the details that had been conveniently left out of my written reports. I even told her about Rhyzkahl, and, more important, I told her what had happened the first time I summoned him. And this was something that I’d never told Ryan. Hey, I summoned a demonic lord and then we had crazy fantastic sex on the rug in front of the fireplace. Ryan was a guy, and guys—even ones you were just friends with—could be funny about hearing details of your sex life when it didn’t include them. Or maybe that was only me being a total chickenshit again. That was more likely, considering my dearth of experience in dealing with guys.

But Jill got it. And when I told her how Rhyzkahl had saved my life, her response was a slow nod and “That is so totally cool.”

I replaced the wards with my own crappy ones, then made it back to my own house, doing my best to avoid thinking about summoning Rhyzkahl. I sat at my kitchen table and tried to distract myself by focusing on the notes from my cases, but the broad door to my basement beckoned me and my thoughts kept going back to the demonic lord. There was a pretty damn big part of me that wanted to see him again, wanted to know where I stood with him. Then there was another fairly major part that was fully aware of how self-serving he was. He was a demon, not human, with an alien moral code. Demons were not good or evil in any sense that we as humans understood. To them, honor was paramount, yet at the same time they never did anything without cause.

So I knew he wanted something from me—wanted my aid, or skills, or wanted some opportunity I could provide for him. He wasn’t asking me to summon him because he missed me, or because he desired me, or because he was fond of me.

That also raised the question of why he had saved my life, but unfortunately I had a feeling I’d already answered that one. He wants something from me. Altruism simply did not exist in the demon ethic.

But that could work both ways. There were things that he could do for me. I certainly had some pressing questions about essences and other arcane matters that I hoped he could answer.

I tugged my notebook out of my bag and tore a clean page out. I had too many questions, and I wasn’t sure if I had time to dig through the maelstrom of disorder that was Tessa’s library. Or maybe you’re just looking for an excuse to summon Rhyzkahl?

I dug the tip of my pen into the paper as my annoyance with myself rose. There was no getting around it. I’d already essentially made up my mind to summon him. And tonight was the last night that the moon would be full enough to do it until next month.

According to Kehlirik, Rhyzkahl had given his oath that I could safely summon him. And the chances of Kehlirik lying about that were somewhere between none and none. Not with the demonic sense of honor in play. The demonkind could be vicious and dangerous and devious, but they did not lie. Instead, they were deeply skilled at telling truth in a way that would have you believe what they wished.

Screw it. If I was going to do this thing, I might as well make it worth my while. As long as I had a demonic lord at my disposal, I would see what information I could wring out of him.

I had two bodies stripped of essence. I’d start with that. I pulled the paper closer and began to write.

1) Could another summoner be using an ilius to consume essences? And why?

2) And if not an ilius, then what the hell is doing it?

3) Whatever is doing it, how can I stop it from happening again?

I paused, pen on the paper, throat suddenly tight. My next question had nothing to do with the two bodies.

4) Is there any way to recover essence?

This one was all about my aunt. If there wasn’t a way to recover an essence that had been pulled away, then there was no point in keeping my aunt’s body alive any longer.

That wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on at the moment. I took a steadying breath and kept writing. I had some questions that I was fairly certain Rhyzkahl knew the answers to. I wasn’t sure if I would have the nerve to ask him, but I went ahead and wrote them anyway.

5) What the fuck is a kiraknikahl?

6) Why did Kehlirik react with such hostility toward Ryan?

I looked down at the list, then folded it carefully.

I was going to summon the demonic lord.

I was usually nervous before summonings. There was a considerable amount of danger involved—especially in higher-level summonings—and so it was prudent to be overly cautious and meticulous.

The last time I’d prepared to summon a demonic lord, I’d been scared out of my mind—pretty damn certain that my chances of surviving the ritual were slim. But this time I had his word, albeit via Kehlirik, that there would be no reprisals upon me for summoning him.

A demon’s word was inviolate.

But I was scared shitless anyway. There were plenty of dangers other than the demon itself. I stood at the edge of the diagram, suddenly wishing that I’d had more to eat at lunch and had taken the opportunity to nap earlier. The moon was a day past full, which wouldn’t be an issue with any summoning below eighth or ninth level, but this was a demonic lord. Yet Kehlirik had stated that the moon would be full enough, so I could only hope that Rhyzkahl’s willingness to be summoned would offset the slight reduction in potency.

I took a deep breath, forcing my thoughts into the proper mind-set, and began to chant, shaping my will. The portal wouldn’t open at first and I sought to focus harder, but it was like trying not to think of a pink elephant. The crack formed and began to widen, but I felt sluggish, as if I were swimming through tar. I took another deep breath, seeking that point of my will that would shape the portal to my desire. Slowly, agonizingly, it widened farther, an arcane wind picking up and swirling throughout the room as I sucked air harshly between my teeth. My muscles trembled with the unexpected difficulty I was having with this portal. I hadn’t even named the demon yet, but I wondered if the difficulty was because of who I intended to summon, what I intended to summon. The words and the chants were minor aspects of the ritual, and I had shaped the portal from the beginning with Rhyzkahl in my mind. I’m psyching myself out. That’s a sure way to get killed.

The wind swirled higher as unexpected pain wrapped through me. I bit back a whimper, then gritted my teeth and forced the name out.

“Rhyzkahl.”

The wind died down and the light-filled portal snapped closed. I wanted to sag and drop to my knees, but I didn’t dare show the weakness. My vision cleared and, to my aching relief, I could see the crouched figure in front of me. I held the bindings, trembling, though I knew that if I’d actually brought Rhyzkahl through, they’d be useless. At this point I was hoping and praying to any gods who would pay attention to me that it was Rhyzkahl. He’d given his word not to harm me, but if another demon had somehow come through, I was dead meat. I’d been tired to begin with, and this ritual had been far more draining than I’d expected. Stupid, I railed at myself. Stupid and complacent. Nice way to end up dead.

I heard a soft hiss from the center of the diagram—a susurration that could have been either pleasure or menace. Then he stood, straightening slowly as if settling each vertebra in place, shaking his hair gracefully to ripple in a white-blond fall down his back. It had been weeks since I’d last seen him—tall and muscled and radiating the familiar aura of power and sexiness and unspeakable danger. He wore a white shirt tucked into black breeches that fit closely to his incredibly well-formed ass and legs, and if anything he was more gorgeous and perfect and angelic than before.

“That … was not a pleasant experience,” he snarled, crystal-blue eyes flashing as his gaze rested on me. A frisson of terror shot through me, jerking me out of my appreciation for his physique. I’d been fairly cavalier about summoning him, failing to keep in mind just how powerful an entity he was. I’d done a lousy job of opening the portal, and it had probably been quite painful for him.

I still gripped the bindings even though I knew they were useless against him. He’d brushed them aside like dust the last time. “Lord Rhyzkahl,” I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. “The reyza Kehlirik told me that you wished me to summon you and … and that you gave your oath that I would not be harmed if I did so.”

He lowered his head and regarded me silently for several nerve-racking heartbeats. Then he smiled, menace disappearing as if it had never existed. “I will keep my oath. Release the bindings, Kara. You know they are useless anyway.”

I gave a shuddering exhalation, releasing my hold on the arcane bindings. They’d been more of a security blanket than anything. Rhyzkahl stepped out of the diagram to approach me. “You are looking far better than the last time I laid eyes on you, dear one.”

The last time he’d laid eyes on me, my bowels were spread out on the floor before me. “I cannot thank you enough for saving me,” I said, inclining my head.

He waved his hand as if brushing the mere idea away. Then he put a finger under my chin and tipped my head up, forcing me to meet his gaze. He looked down at me, deep and ancient eyes searching. I tried to suppress the shudder but wasn’t completely successful. I felt stripped bare.

He released me, frowning now. “Kehlirik warned me of your fatigue. He was not mistaken.”

“I’m fine,” I said, a muscle in my jaw twitching.

He lifted a silky eyebrow. “I gave you a chance to live and now you will throw that gift away? Most insulting.”

Great, now he was starting in on me too. I scowled. “No insult is intended. I haven’t slept much lately, and I have a lot going on at work.” I took a deep breath and tried to regain a measure of control. “You bade me summon you. I have done so. What is it you want of me?”

“Direct as always. I admire that. So different from the demon realm, with its endless scheming and intrigue.”

“There’s plenty of that here too. I can’t stand it. So what do you want?” My tone was more sour than I’d intended, but he just smiled again and turned away. He stepped to the cold and unlit fireplace. I sure as hell wasn’t going to light a fire in the middle of summer in south Louisiana. He trailed a hand over the back of the armchair, then looked back at me.

“I wish you to be mine,” he said.

I stared at him, skin tingling as the memory of the last time he’d been in the basement rushed through me. Best sex ever—no doubt. And he wants me to be his …? He wants me? I tried to remain rational. He wanted me, but as what? Wife? Girlfriend? What the hell kind of relationship did one have with a demonic lord? And was that something I wanted?

I took another couple of seconds to work some moisture back into my mouth. “Yours? Like, how? Marriage? Adoption? Lease with option to buy?”

His smile widened. “I wish you to be my summoner.”

Well, that was a bucket of ice water. Not wife. Not girlfriend. You moron. “Your … summoner.”

“Yes.”

I pushed down the absurd sting that he didn’t want me as some sort of consort. Yes, it was completely irrational. I knew that. I should be pleased that he was more attracted to my arcane abilities. But I’d never claimed to be free of insecurities. “And what would being your summoner entail?” I asked, wary. I was grateful for the rude wake-up. I’d almost forgotten what he was.

He sat down in the armchair, slouching just enough to make it sexy instead of sloppy. “You would summon me periodically, thus granting me greater access to this sphere while still under the restraints of the summoning protocols.” He slid a look to me. “Do not fear, dear one. I would not be unrestrained. My time would be limited, as any demon’s is.”

I slowly walked over to the fireplace, hitching myself up to sit on the table, oddly pleased that it had the added effect of allowing me to look down at him. Not that it made me feel superior in any way at all. He still radiated stunning power and potency. And why did he have to be so damn hot? I bit back a groan as my body eagerly reminded me that it had once enjoyed his hotness quite a bit. “So what’s in it for me?”

His eyes sparkled with uninhibited delight. “Your brief time in the demon realm has done wonders for you. For starters, you would have access to me.” He waved a hand in a grand gesture that encompassed his entire person.

I lifted my chin defiantly. “Well, what if I don’t want to sleep with you again?”

He tipped his head back and laughed, as close to a full belly laugh as I thought I would ever hear come out of a demon. I scowled at him, and then, in a movement that was damn near too fast for me to follow, he was standing in front of me, holding my face in his hands. “That is not what I was referring to, dear one, but obviously it has been on your mind a great deal if that is the first thing that occurred to you.”

I flushed at the truth of his words, heat rising in my face, then abruptly his mouth was on mine and a different heat began to rise. I didn’t resist as his tongue sought mine and his hands slid around to my back. A small moan escaped me as his body molded against mine. I wrapped my legs around his waist without even thinking about it, and he pressed against me, showing me that he was more than willing to pursue that line of thinking. Damn, but I’d missed this. Missed feeling sexy … desirable. But he’s only doing this to sway my decision …

His hand slipped beneath the silk of my shirt, skimming over my breast. Gooseflesh rippled over my body, and I could feel my nipple harden beneath his palm. My legs tightened around him, and he obligingly ground against me, forcing a gasp from me. I tugged at his shirt without thinking, wanting to feel the exquisite perfection of his skin. It was as incredible as I’d remembered—satin over rippled iron. But it’s just sex. Really great sex, yeah, but … I could get sex anywhere, right?

Like maybe with Ryan?

I shuddered and broke the kiss with a small gasp, pulling back from him. I couldn’t do this, couldn’t make the kind of decision he wanted when I was overwhelmed and confused. He straightened, the smile still playing on his face.

“Not as delightful as you remembered?”

I let out a shaking breath and scooted back a few inches on the table—far enough that the evidence of his arousal wasn’t pressed right up against the evidence of my arousal. “It was … delightful, Lord Rhyzkahl, I cannot deny that. But I need to be able to think clearly.” I took a deep breath. “What do you mean, ‘access to you’?”

“My knowledge, my power, my skills.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Do you deny that you desire greater knowledge of the arcane?”

Shit. I couldn’t deny that, not when I had a list of things that I needed to know more about upstairs on my kitchen table. “Okay, there is a lot I need to learn. But I’m not sure I’m ready to … er, commit to you like that.”

“Ah, so I must woo you.” His eyes glinted. “I have never had need to do so.” He leaned close to me, sliding fingers across my cheek. “I must remember how it is done.”

I snorted and lightly batted his fingers away. “Not like that.”

I felt a brief shimmer of potency, then he withdrew his hand and straightened, dark power smoldering in his eyes. “Yes,” he said softly. “Your brief sojourn in the demon realm did you well.”

Another sliver of fear began to spread through me, but before I could berate myself too harshly—I batted his hand away? Holy crap, what was I thinking? — he turned away, clasping his hands lightly behind his back. “Very well. I will woo you. I will answer three questions without debt.”

I blinked. “Are you serious? Three questions with no debt of honor incurred?” Then I cringed. Nice going, moron. That was two questions right there.

“Three questions. No debt. A courting gift, if you will.”

I hopped off the table, relieved that he wasn’t going to be a stickler about when the questioning would start. But if he was trying to “woo” me, then being a jerk about the questions certainly wouldn’t endear him to me. “I’ll be right back,” I said, as I took off up the basement stairs, then raced down the hall to the kitchen, bare feet slapping against the wood floor. I grabbed the paper off the table and spun to race back to the basement.

And careened right into him. I would have fallen back on my ass, but he seized me by the arms, steadying me, then continued to grip my arms. His body was firm and warm against mine, and I nearly expected him to lower his head to kiss me. I even tipped my head back without thinking, then felt slightly foolish when I realized that he wasn’t looking down at me at all.

Instead, his gaze slowly traveled around my small kitchen, and it abruptly occurred to me that he was looking around like someone who had never seen anything like a modern kitchen before. And most likely he hasn’t. Demonic lords were rarely if ever summoned. It was the others—the twelve levels of demon, reyza, syraza, zhurn, mehnta, and so forth—who were usually summoned and who had the opportunity to come to this sphere. But even they had little chance to “see the world,” so to speak. I knew that when I summoned, it was a stark rarity for any demon to leave the summoning chamber. Far too much risk of discovery by the outside world. Tessa occasionally brought demons down from her attic summoning chamber, but just to her library. I’d brought the ilius out only because it was practically invisible. And, of course, the lords were almost never summoned by anyone who wanted to continue living. No wonder Kehlirik had been so elated at the opportunity to ride in the back of a U-Haul truck.

“Have you been to this sphere before?” I asked, almost hesitantly. “I mean, other than the time I called you. And, um, the time that the Symbol Man called you. I mean, have you ever been outside a summoning chamber?”

He continued to take in his surroundings. “Centuries ago. It was quite different, as I recall.”

I gave a breathless laugh. “I would imagine so.” I pulled very lightly against his grip on my arms and he released me, almost as if he was barely aware of me anymore. I stepped back as he moved to the back door and opened it. It briefly flashed through me that I shouldn’t allow him outside in case anyone came over, but then I remembered that not only did he not look like a demon, no one ever visited my house anyway. And I would hardly be embarrassed to be seen in public with him.

He walked down the stairs and out into my backyard. He stopped about ten paces from my house, then looked up at the moon. He inhaled—not deeply or dramatically, just the deep breath of someone who wanted to take in the scent of his surroundings. I slowly followed him, stopping at the bottom of the steps. After several minutes he turned back to me, face inscrutable. He walked to me and stopped, looking down at me.

“Three questions.”

I gulped softly and nodded, remembering the crumpled paper in my hand. I peered down at it, but the light was too dim for me to read it well. “I … uh, need to go back inside.”

He gestured toward the house. I returned inside and he followed behind me, closing the door as I looked down at my list. Shit, just three questions? I ran my fingers through my hair as I tried to figure out which ones were the most important.

I gripped my hair, then released it and looked at the demonic lord, experiencing a brief moment of disorientation as the reality struck me that Lord Rhyzkahl was in my kitchen.

“Okay. Is it possible that an ilius has been summoned here and is consuming human essences?”

“No,” he said, folding his arms over his chest. I waited a beat, then silently cursed myself for phrasing the question so poorly. “An ilius would never consume human essence,” he continued after several seconds, apparently realizing that being too much of an asshole about the questions was not the best way to impress me. “Not only is it forbidden—for too much of such would upset the balance of potency in this sphere—but they have no taste for humans.” A slight smile played on his face.

I bit back my desire to blurt out something stupid like Really? They don’t? He’d been magnanimous about giving me a more thorough answer to my first question, and I didn’t want to push my luck. Okay, so it wasn’t an ilius. What the hell else could it be, then? But I needed to consider how to word it so that I would get an answer that was useful to me.

I thought for a minute, then decided to skip to a different question. This one was vitally important to me, and I wanted to be certain that it got asked. I carefully phrased the query in my head. “How can I restore to my aunt the essence that was stripped from her during the ritual to summon you by the Symbol Man?” It wasn’t the smoothest sentence structure in the world, but it asked the question I wanted answered.

He acted as if he hadn’t heard me as he slowly walked around my kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets, looking inside the fridge, face completely expressionless. I was about to repeat my question when he spoke.

“It is a series of rituals—each similar to a summoning, but you would be calling to her essence. Gather aspects of her—blood, hair, as well as items dear to her heart.” He went on to describe the ward structure as he walked toward the front of the house. I trailed in his wake, scrawling notes furiously on the back of the piece of paper. Then he paused and looked back at me. “But it is not a fast process. It may take some time, and you will need to take care with each step.”

I caught myself before asking, How much time? That could have counted as question number three. Instead, I nodded. “Thank you.”

He continued on through my house, stopping when he reached my living room. “I have seen this only through the touch I had in your dreams. It is quite fascinating to see and sense it in the flesh.” He brushed fingers across my desk and the computer, then moved to the fireplace, gazing at the photos on the mantel. There were only two pictures. One was of my aunt and me, which had been taken during Mardi Gras several years ago. We were both dressed in purple jumpsuits—the purple people from the “Purple People Eaters” song.

The other was a picture of my parents, taken just a year or so before my mother got sick. In the picture, they were sitting next to each other on a low oak tree branch at City Park in New Orleans, with my mother leaning against my dad, his arms around her. Her hands were clasped around one knee and her head was tipped back against him, her blond hair teased by a breeze.

This was one memory that was fixed forever in my essence. I’d taken that photo when I was six years old, having begged and whined and pleaded to be allowed to use my dad’s 35 mm. I’d used up nearly the whole roll of film, and this had been the best picture of the small handful that came out.

Rhyzkahl’s gaze lingered on the photo for long enough that I had an unnerving desire to snatch it away from him. For some reason I didn’t like the thought of him looking at it, whether through my dreams or in reality. “Do you still have a link to my dreams?” I demanded.

This time true delight lit his eyes. “You miss my presence in your bed?”

I glared at him, refusing to rise to his bait. It was beside the fact that there was a measure of truth in his words.

He came to me, sliding a hand through my hair. He cupped the back of my neck, then pulled me close and kissed me again—a powerful kiss, and one that showed just how much he was in control. Then he released me, leaving me to stagger to regain my balance, skin aflame with heat.

“The dream link I had to you was destroyed when you died in my realm,” he said, inclining his head to me as I struggled to control the mad thrum of my pulse. “And that was your third question. A pity. Now you will need to summon me again to seek answers to more questions.”

Then, before I could respond or react, he stepped back and was gone in a flash of white light.