Fury of the Demon

Chapter 3

I woke in bed to the sight of morning sunlight playing on the shimmering leaves of the grove beyond the southern window wall. A couple of feet away, Jekki crouched on his two hind legs and, with his other four paws, carefully held a hot mug of coffee ready and waiting for me. Damn, but I was spoiled.

“Jekki, you’re amazing,” I said with a sleepy smile.

The little blue faas chittered, purple iridescence shimmering over his pelt as his long and sinuous tail twisted. “Hell-o, how . . . arrrrre you. I am fine! Have a niiiiiice day. Earth!”

It took a lot of effort, but I managed to contain my laughter. I sat up and took the mug from him. “That was excellent,” I told him. “You can also use ‘What’s up?’ and ‘Have a good one!’” I resisted the urge to teach him Hasta la vista, baby.

He peered at me, blinking his large bright golden eyes. “One of what?”

“Er, a day or moment or encounter,” I said, then shrugged. “It’s fairly vague.”

“Okie dokie!” he burbled. “Have a goooood one! Buh-bye!” And with that he zipped out.

Remarkably cheered by the exchange with the clever demon, I sipped my coffee and conducted a quick personal assessment. I felt great, to my immense relief. I didn’t know exactly what Mzatal and Elofir had done, but not only did I no longer feel weird-tingly-odd, my twisted knee and various other dings and scratches were as good as new.

Yep. Definitely spoiled. I finished my coffee, quickly bathed and dressed, then sat like a good girl so that the faas Faruk could braid my hair into something that looked a tad nicer than Unkempt Mop. As soon as she burbled her satisfaction with the result, I gave her a thanks and a head pat, then headed to the plexus.

I was two steps past the entrance to the solarium when it registered that someone was asleep on the broad sofa. Mzatal? I jerked to a stop and wheeled back, then exhaled softly in relief as I realized it was Elofir. He lay spooned up against a sleeping dark-haired woman, his arm draped over her. I couldn’t help but smile at the tender sight. The woman was Michelle Cleland—a former drug addict who’d ended up in the demon realm as a “sacrifice” from the Symbol Man serial killer to Rhyzkahl.

Ironically, it had probably saved her life. No longer a strung-out crack whore, Michelle had bloomed into a lovely young woman, clever and quick-witted. Moreover, she and Elofir had formed a deep attachment to rival the one I shared with Mzatal. She’d been sent to the demonic lord Vahl when she first arrived but had found her home with Elofir.

The two looked utterly adorable curled up together like that, but as I continued down the hall, it clicked that the containment of the arcane virus must have been exceedingly difficult. The lords only needed sleep for a night every eight to ten days or after great exertion, and I highly doubted Elofir’s current slumber was simply from normal fatigue.

With that unsettling thought, I continued on and successfully located Mzatal in the plexus chamber, relieved to find him awake and aware. He stood before the pedestal and basin in the center of the room adroitly working planet-stabilizing potency with practiced precision. Each of the lords maintained his own plexus, and if any shirked in their responsibilities, the entire world suffered. Every lord did his share. It was the one thing they all agreed on.

Two ilius—Wuki and Dakdak—lay curled in the cushions like shifting multicolored smoke with hints of fangs, eyes, and sinuous bodies. A third, Tata, ceaselessly coiled and uncoiled beside Mzatal, waist-high, its eyes steadily visible and focused on the plexus flows. They were three of the dozen or so third-level demons that made their home in and around the palace. In the demon realm, ilius fit into the niche of arcane vultures, feeding on stray essence from dead or dying creatures. When I’d summoned them to Earth, I’d paid them with nutria which seemed to work well for all concerned except perhaps the nutria. I’d also thought of them as being fairly low in sentience and intelligence, little more than arcane bloodhounds I used to help me occasionally on cases. However, even though I still couldn’t communicate with them worth a damn, Mzatal had deep affinity with the creatures and actually consulted with them.

Mzatal’s eyes remained on the blue-green strands and the pair of glowing orbs before him, but I felt his awareness of me as well as his assessment of my well-being. After I patiently waited a few minutes, he anchored the strands then moved to me, touched my cheek with the back of his fingers. He looked much better today, I noted. The stress and dismay no longer vibrated through him, which served to relieve the last traces of my own anxiety.

I gave him a light kiss. “I feel fine now. It’s all going to be okay,” I said, reassuring us both.

A surprisingly gentle smile touched his mouth. He rested a hand against my cheek, caressed it with his thumb. “Yes, the containment was successful.”

“Perfect. Because in about five minutes I’m going outside. I’m going to nail down the seventh ring today, and then you can culminate it.” I referred to the seventh ring of the shikvihr—a powerful ritual consisting of eleven rings of eleven sigils each. Mastery of each ring significantly augmented a summoner’s focus and mastery of potency. Moreover, the completion of all eleven rings gave the ability to create and use floating sigils, or “floaters,” on Earth rather than only in the demon realm. The ability to use floaters meant a huge advantage in speed and effectiveness over chalk and blood drawings. Mastering all eleven rings was a rare accomplishment, but I intended to beat the odds and take home the This Summoner Kicks All the Ass Award.

“You will have it by midday,” he said with utter confidence.

I grinned. “Damn straight.”

He glanced to the strands to make sure they still held, then slipped an arm around my waist. “If all agreements are made satisfactorily today,” he said as we exited the plexus, “it is my intention to set the ritual to send you to Earth for mid-afternoon today. Kadir arrives soon to begin preparations.”

I stopped dead and stared at him. “Whoa. Hang on.” I held up a hand. “You want him to assist you in the ritual? You expect me to get inside a diagram with him at the controls?”

Mzatal gave me a small frown. “Under agreement, there is no better choice.”

“I don’t understand.” I shook my head. “He’s one of them. And, for that matter, why was he here yesterday?”

He put his hands on my shoulders. “He was here yesterday under a long-standing agreement allowing him access to the Little Waterfall. It helps him maintain stability.” He paused, gathering thoughts to explain. “Kadir and I have a history that extends far beyond his association with the Mraztur. His skill with the flows is unparalleled and, because of the implanted rakkuhr virus—even contained as it is—the sending ritual must be flawless.”

I struggled to put aside my emotional reaction to Kadir. “I trust you, but how do you know he won’t break the agreement?” I gave him a sour smile. “The Mraztur haven’t exactly been bound by their ethics lately.”

“No, they have not,” he agreed. He looked off into the distance even though we were still in the corridor. “But Kadir is meticulous with agreements. I have never known him to break even the smallest point.” He met my eyes again. “However, if what I require conflicts in any way with terms he has with the Mraztur, he will not come to agreement with me, and I will find another to assist.”

His eyes held a flicker of worry. It was clear he preferred to have Kadir do the ritual with him, and I forced myself to remember that his worry for me mattered as well. It was unfair not to take that into consideration.

“All right.” I gave a grudging nod. “It’s obviously a complicated relationship, but I’ll trust you to trust him for me.” I angled my head. “Speaking of complicated things, are you going to give me some sort of training or FAQ on how to use Vsuhl properly?”

Mzatal went still, and I felt the connection between us thin slightly as if it had grown distant. “Beloved, Vsuhl was not recovered for your use,” he said in a quiet, grave voice. “It is Szerain’s blade.”

The odd change in his mood had me baffled, but I forged on anyway. “I know that,” I said. “But I’m its bearer now. Wouldn’t it be safer if I knew how to actually use it while I have it?”

“No,” he said firmly, brows drawn together. “You are safe when it is away. You are not Vsuhl’s bearer. You are its custodian. It is Szerain’s blade.” His aura flared with each sentence, as if to punctuate it. “Too much for a human.”

I’d taken a step back without realizing it. “Right,” I said. “Okay.” My throat felt tight, and I took another step back, feeling the sting of the rebuke. Had I said or done something wrong? Maybe I’d messed up when I used the blade the day before, and he was mad about it? “I . . . I’d better go work on the shikvihr,” I said and turned to go, bewildered and hurt.

He reached out and caught my shoulder, pulled me to him. I didn’t resist and let him hold me close. Tension kept his body rigid, and though he said nothing, I felt his pain and regret that he’d upset me.

I sighed against him, did my best to not be a ninny. There was obviously a lot more he wasn’t telling me, but now wasn’t the time to push the issue.

“Yaghir tahn,” he finally said, voice soft. Forgive me. “The matter is complex and fraught.”

“Yeah, it’s cool.” I looked up at him and forced a smile. “I’d better get started on the seventh ring.”

He hesitated briefly, then released me and stepped back. “I will be there to culminate it when you are ready.”

I nodded, turned and departed, smile slipping as I headed outside and to the column. The connection Mzatal and I shared was incredibly intimate, amazing and profound, yet it did nothing to balance the massive difference in the power dynamic between us. It wasn’t an issue of one of us being more “in control” of the relationship than the other. This was a flat and simple: “He’s super powerful and can read my every thought, and I’m . . . really good at feeling what he needs and helping him be super powerful.”

I reached the column, began some basic warm-up movements. No, it wasn’t a flat and simple anything, I realized. Our partnership benefited us both, and the shikvihr was a perfect example of it. Learning it from him with the added input I gained through our bond, I understood nuances of the creation process that would be impossible to grasp from words and demonstration alone. I knew it on a deeper level, which ultimately enhanced it. Yes, I still had to create it and weave the sigils in their rings completely on my own, but what I ended up with was simply awesome.

With my psyche thus soothed, I began to dance the shikvihr. The first six rings flowed out of me without hesitation, igniting perfectly and carrying the deeper resonance that showed they’d been culminated by a demonic lord—like hitting the enter key on a computer. They drifted in slow rotation around me, a foot above the ground, colors shifting and sparkling.

The seventh ring poured from me effortlessly as well, each sigil joining harmoniously with the next as I traced and danced. I felt the grove activate with Kadir’s arrival, but I ignored it, utterly focused. Nine sigils, ten. I’d never played sports, but I knew now what it meant to be “in the zone,” because I was dead center. Even the awareness that Mzatal watched from beyond the outer ring didn’t faze me. I had this shit.

I traced the eleventh and last sigil in the ring, ignited the series, then looked over at Mzatal with a proud and silly grin on my face. “Pretty, ain’t it?”

He moved carefully through the rings, hands behind his back as he assessed. “Well done, zharkat,” he said with a warm smile.

“Thanks,” I said, exultant. I wiped sweat from my face with my sleeve. “Now hook ’em up so you can send me to Earth.”

He chuckled low. “We must work on your lack of assertiveness, beloved.” He kissed me lightly then moved behind me, draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against him. I leaned back and carefully followed his method as he wove the rings together. Without this step, the seventh ring was little more than a pretty circle of sigils.

“Now ignite the whole,” he murmured.

I took a moment to savor the accomplishment I’d worked toward for months, then ignited the unified rings in a flare of potency that left me dizzy even as it infused me. Mzatal held me to his chest and rewarded me with a rare delighted laugh that echoed through our connection.

“That’s even prettier,” I said with a grin as I shifted to face him.

“So it is.” He held me close and gave me a toe-curling victory kiss, then broke it reluctantly, and nuzzled my cheek. “The ritual will be ready in less than two hours. Ilana will bring you to the nexus at that time.”

Still smiling, I kissed him soundly then dispelled the rings. “I’d better go bathe and pack.”