Fury of the Demon

Chapter 9

I spent the rest of the day readying the diagram and making some last minute non-arcane arrangements for Mzatal’s arrival. By eight in the evening, I had plenty of power stored up, Zack and Ryan were off somewhere else, Eilahn was either in the woods or on the roof, and the house was nice and quiet and empty.

Most of my summoning superstitions had disintegrated after close to six months of training with Mzatal. I didn’t have special summoning clothing any more, and I certainly no longer felt the need to strip in the hallway and then go down to my basement naked. I smothered a laugh at the thought of doing so with Ryan still here. “Surprise!”

I did, however, shower, shave my legs, and dress in a nice zrila-made shirt and soft pants in gorgeous shades of blue. Hey, I was having a torrid love affair with a hot and sexy demonic lord who I hadn’t seen in a whole twenty-four hours. We were in the middle of a crappy, stress-laden situation. No way was I going to be less than my awesomest best to welcome him to Earth.

The summoning itself went smoothly and, while not exactly effortless, I again appreciated the value of the shikvihr and the intensity of my recent training.

I made the call to Mzatal, felt the strands coalesce through the portal, and pulled. A moment later he knelt on one knee in the center of the diagram, and I smiled as I saw he was wearing the charcoal grey Armani suit. My dude was ready to kick some Earth butt. Beside him, Jekki lay curled atop a small trunk with his tail tightly wrapped around a foot-high keg.

“Hello, Jekki,” I said. The ball of blue fur unwound, and the faas burbled a greeting. Mzatal stood as I moved to him. “Hi, Boss.”

“Zharkat,” he murmured, face serious in his I’m assessing everything mode. But he wasn’t so preoccupied that he ignored me. He slipped a hand behind my head and kissed me, then frowned. “You are troubled.”

I slid my arms around him, rested my cheek on his chest. “Other than finally having you here, it’s been a pretty crappy day.” I proceeded to tell him about the murder victim and the trap on her body, and also the issues with Ryan and Zack.

He cradled me close as he listened. “I am deeply relieved you are safe and that Szerain intervened.” He kissed me again. “Have you any information on Idris?”

“Nothing yet,” I said, enjoying the lovely tingle left behind by the kiss. “But I’ve put out feelers.”

He hesitated a split second before nodding, no doubt reading the meaning of the phrase from me. “I will begin adaptation to the flows here so that I am not as . . . crippled.”

Crippled. That was how it felt to him. In the demon realm, he was connected to the arcane flows through his own lord-ability and time in his plexus, which allowed him to track and monitor damn near anything that touched or involved the arcane. Here, he had almost none of that. Like losing the sense of touch.

I took his hand and started toward the stairs. “Let’s get out of the basement, and I’ll give you the grand tour.”

I watched Mzatal’s face and enjoyed his reactions as he took in everything: the fascinating Earth scents, my table with summoning tools, Ryan’s area with futon, table and dresser, and the very ordinary basement staircase. At the top of the stairs I stepped out into the hallway with him, then gestured around. “Welcome to my realm,” I announced grandly.

His face remained impassive save for a very slight wrinkle between his eyebrows, likely undetectable by anyone who didn’t know him fairly well. “It is very . . . compact,” he finally said.

My lips twitched. “Try imagining it with the standard ceiling height of eight feet. These are fourteen. But it’s not exactly a palace, that’s for sure.” I gave him a quick tour of the spacious living room, office, bedrooms, bathrooms, oh-so-cluttered dining room, kitchen, utility room, and all exits, while Jekki zipped from room to room in an excited blur of blue.

“You’ll probably like it better outside,” I told him as I led him through the kitchen and toward the back porch. In the kitchen Jekki happily explored, opening and closing cabinets and peering at items in drawers. He tugged the refrigerator open, made a quick assessment of the contents, then closed it and moved on to inspect under the sink.

I paused, though Mzatal continued moving to the back of the house, his brows drawn together in concentration. “Hey, Jekki,” I said, “if you need any supplies for Mzatal, you have to let me know so we can buy them.” Ahead of me, Mzatal strode across the porch and on into the yard.

“Have tunjen juice from home,” Jekki announced, and now I realized what the small keg was for. Juice of the tunjen fruit served as quick replenishment for the body, mind and arcane, and was a staple of the demonic lord diet. “Earth fruit here. Enough today!”

I grinned and followed Mzatal. I could only aspire to the near-perpetual enthusiasm of the faas. Mzatal’s steps slowed as he moved across the grass, both hands spread slightly in front of him, palms down and fingers slightly up. I hung back, watching with interest as he moved forward like a beachcomber with a metal detector, slowly sweeping his body back and forth in gentle, elegant arcs.

He paused, turned and backtracked, then shifted toward the right, shoulders tense with focus. Finally, he stopped, brought his hands to his sides, lowered his head and went still.

Goosebumps prickled over my skin as memory seared through me. Rhyzkahl had come out to the backyard and stood in precisely that spot, and for a bizarre instant the image of him overlaid that of Mzatal. Exact spot, exact stance. One light, one dark.

Vaguely unsettled, I walked out into the yard. He lifted his head as I reached him, and he inhaled deeply. “This will serve well,” he said.

“What is this place?” I asked. “Rhyzkahl also seemed drawn to it. Stood right here.”

He held his hand out to me, drew me to stand with my back to his chest. His hands slid down over mine, and he interlaced our fingers.

“Feel,” he murmured.

I forced myself to relax, leaned my head back against him as I extended my senses. For a while there was nothing but the sturdy beat of his heart, the warmth and security of his hands on mine. Cicadas and crickets rasped and chirruped from the trees and brush. An owl hooted, answered a few seconds later by another farther away. A soft breeze carried the crisp scent of pines, much more subtle than the evergreens of Mzatal’s realm, though perhaps still a vaguely familiar comfort for him.

And then I noted a warmth below me. No, that wasn’t the right description. A subtle glow of power like the potency I worked with, but more concentrated than I was used to on Earth. “What is it?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper, as if certain the sensation would shatter if I spoke too loudly.

Keeping our fingers entwined, he wrapped his arms around me. “It is . . . ” He paused, as if searching for a suitable English word. “It is a confluence, a convergence point of power flows, albeit different and of much lower intensity than in my own world. Such is the foundation of a nexus.”

I processed that. “A mini-nexus.”

“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “It is raw now but with development, yes, potentially a . . . mini-nexus.” I heard the smile in his voice.

“That’s pretty darn nice,” I said. “Why is it in my backyard?”

He gave me a light squeeze before releasing me. “The question is, why is your backyard here?”

I turned and gave him a puzzled look, but an instant later it hit me. “My grandparents had this house built here. And my grandmother was a summoner.”

“She no doubt sensed it, even if subconsciously.”

I looked down at the unassuming bit of grass. “Having this here should help, right?”

“It will help much in accessing and deciphering the flows,” he agreed.

“And now it’s OURS!” I threw my head back and did my best Evil Laugh. Mzatal gave me an indulgent look, though amusement flashed in his eyes.

“Indeed, quite useful,” he replied with deliberate understatement.

I laughed more normally, then gave him a quick kiss. “Hang on, I’ll be right back.” I ran to the porch, grabbed a battery-powered lantern, then returned and took his hand again. “I have to finish the tour. There’s one more thing I want to show you.”

He didn’t resist as I led the way across the yard and down the hill. At the edge of the tree line was a path I’d attacked with the weed-whacker and pruning shears earlier in the day. The light from the lantern cast long shadows before us as we worked our way through the trees.

The path finally opened into a broad clearing. A pond took up most of the area, about sixty feet across at its widest point, with a perimeter of grassy bank that extended another twenty feet or so. I led him to the left, then lifted my lantern high to show him the rough pavilion I’d set up for him—a rug over a waterproof tarp on the ground, covered by a wide canopy tent with its walls rolled up despite the likelihood of rain. Mzatal loved open spaces and could easily ward for environmental control to suit his mood. A decent air mattress, simple chair, and a folding table completed the lavish furnishings.

“It’s not much, I know,” I said, suddenly nervous. Compared to anything in the demon realm, this was a lame, tacky ensemble. “But I didn’t think you’d enjoy staying in the house all the time, and I know it’s not an ocean view, but I’ve always liked the place.” I clamped my lips shut as I realized I was babbling.

He gave my hand a squeeze, then pulled me close. “I deeply appreciate the consideration,” he said, gratitude in his voice. “I would not care to abide the confines of the dwelling for extended periods.”

Relieved, I put my arms around him. “There’s a lot we can do to improve on this, too. I had to make do with what I could scrounge in limited time,” I told him. “I sort of threw this together in about an hour after I looked around the house this afternoon and realized it wouldn’t do at all.”

“It is more than sufficient for my needs, beloved,” he said as he lowered his head to kiss me.

I slid my arms around his neck, returned the kiss, and proceeded to welcome him to Earth in the best way I knew how.