Mark of the Demon

CHAPTER 28

The exterior of the outreach center was unlit except for the silver sheen from the full moon above. There were no groups of people clustered outside tonight. Perhaps they could sense what was going on, feel the menace within.

I parked on the street, right in front of the double glass doors. No need to try to conceal myself. They knew I was coming. I could feel it—the tension, the coiling of power, ugly and violent. The taint of blood flowed along the street and among the decrepit stores like a sluggish wind. Anyone with even a breath of sensitivity to the arcane would want to be far away from this place tonight.

I eased out of my car, wishing I had more of a plan of action than stop-the-Symbol-Man-somehow-and-save-everyone. I had a plan. It went bust. Now I have to figure out something else. Maybe I’d be able to disrupt the summoning. The weight of my Glock was a comfort on my hip, even though I knew it was no good against a demon—especially a higher demon. But both the Symbol Man and Ryan can be killed by mundane bullets.

They wanted to use me. I had to make them regret that decision.

The ache of Ryan’s betrayal tugged at me again, and I looked up at the silver and bloated moon, feeling its potency bathe me, no less powerful for having been trod upon by humans. The sick fear grew in my belly, and I rubbed my sweating palms on the front of my jeans. The Symbol Man would begin the summoning of Rhyzkahl soon. My stomach roiled at the memory of Rhyzkahl’s power, bile rising at the thought of that much potency being in the control of someone so unscrupulous.

Or I could call him. It wasn’t the first time the thought had occurred to me. Rhyzkahl wouldn’t be bound, wouldn’t be under the control of this killer.

But the memory of Tessa’s face rose up, the horror in her eyes as she’d described the slaughter after Rhyzkahl had been summoned. And Rhyzkahl had been constrained by his honor then. There would be no such constraints on him if I called him to this world outside of a summoning circle.

I’m so screwed. I had no backup for this venture. Not with the knowledge that he had a demon as an ally. A higher demon would tear through a TAC team like a wolf in a room full of kittens. I didn’t dare risk anyone else on this.

I cast another glance to the sky, at the moon that taunted me with its fullness. I had planned to be well into my summoning by now. The demon swore he would release Tessa, I reminded myself. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but at least I would get her out.

As if my thoughts had summoned him, a winged figure landed on the roof of the center, framed almost perfectly against the full moon. I shrank back against my Taurus, barely daring to breathe as the demon—definitely a reyza—rose to his full height and spread his wings, bellowing.

Holy crap, the entire neighborhood’s going to hear that! He was taunting me, I realized. He didn’t care what attention he drew, because in a matter of hours—probably far less—a single demon would be a minor irritation to the residents of this sphere.

The demon swung into an open window on the side of the building, and I took a deep, relieved breath. I knew he had seen me, but that didn’t mean I was ready to face him.

I was stalling, and there was no time to stall. The quiet of the street was a surreal contrast with how urgent everything actually was. The gates across the doors were unlocked and ajar, swinging open with a whispered creak when I pushed on them. I stepped cautiously forward, trying to make as little sound as possible, even though I knew that those inside were aware of my presence. I wasn’t quite ballsy enough to stride in openly to be sacrificed.

Cold enveloped me as I stepped into the dark foyer, a chill not from an overactive air conditioner but from a touch into realms and spheres that sucked the energy from this sphere. Heat was energy, and I realized that he was using every available energy to create his portal. Smart, I thought grudgingly, even as my heart pounded. I held my gun close to my body at the ready position as I edged carefully forward through the dark. Around this corner and I would be in the main meeting hall, if I remembered the layout correctly. The rough metal of the butt of my gun nestled in my palm, a small comfort that I savored. A gun would do little damage against a reyza, but, damn, I felt better with it in my hand.

I went still at the scrape of a claw against stone, holding my breath as I waited for the sound to repeat itself. A few seconds later I heard another slow, unnerving scrape, and I clenched my teeth together as I moved. I couldn’t tell what direction the noise was coming from or even how far away it was. All I could do was keep moving forward.

My foot came up against something heavy and slightly yielding so suddenly that I almost went sprawling over it. I recovered, sucking in breath between my teeth as I took a half step back, then nudged the object carefully with my foot.

Shit. I crouched, then risked using my key-chain LED light.

It was definitely a body, but the first quick look was enough to confirm that it wasn’t Tessa or Michelle. This was a male, and for a brief crazy instant I thought it was Ryan, but then I processed the facial features, the receding hairline and neat beard. Reverend Thomas. I touched his throat, seeking a pulse but finding none. I sat back on my heels, frowning. So, had he been the Symbol Man? Or had Ryan killed him to take the power for himself? Or were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time? I’d liked him, and I wanted badly to believe the latter, but I was far too aware that my judgment hadn’t been terribly accurate lately.

I shifted to stand, then went still, gut clenching, the LED light still on. There was another body a few feet past the preacher’s.

“Fucking shit … Tessa!” I stumbled over the dead man and fell to my knees beside my aunt. She was cold and pale, and I hurriedly felt for a pulse. It was there. Barely. She’s alive. That’s all that counts.

But as my fingers lingered on my aunt’s neck, unease filled me. Yes, there was a pulse. But something didn’t feel right. I struggled to place the elusive feeling of wrongness.

She’s empty. I can’t… feel her.

Hot breath on the back of my neck warned me an instant too late. I spun and brought my weapon up to bear, but a clawed hand grasped mine, twisting the gun away savagely. I heard as much as felt the bones in my right wrist break, and I let out a strangled cry as the demon snarled at me and flung the gun away.

I gripped my arm to my chest, hissing through my teeth as I called up the words and powers of a dismissal. It would be a lot easier if I knew the name of this demon, but I would just have to make do. Seizing potency, I began to coil it into a portal.

The demon hissed and backhanded me. Pain slammed through my face and jaw as I went sprawling, though miraculously I managed to keep my arm to my chest. A part of me was aware that the demon hadn’t hit me very hard at all—at least not for him. My head would have been separated from my body if he’d used full force.

“No,” he growled, leaping over my aunt’s figure and landing to straddle me. One clawed hand gripped my shoulder, holding me firmly. He lowered his head, teeth glinting in the small light. “No, summoner. I will not be dismissed by you. I am here at the behest of another.”

“What did you do to my aunt?” I demanded through clenched teeth. “You swore on your essence!”

He rumbled. “I kept my side of the bargain. She lives.”

“That’s not alive!” I retorted, voice catching in a sob as guilt coiled in my belly. I should have answered the phone when she called!

The demon hissed. “Her heart beats yet. She lives. Do not question my honor again.”

“Fuck your honor!” I sought again to pull power to me, but fresh agony welled from my shoulder as his grip tightened. A cry of pain escaped me as I felt the claws pierce skin.

A rumbling growl came from the demon, and he leaned forward and licked my cheek, hot breath searing my skin. “It is good that you are here. Now we can commence.”

Frustration and grief twisted through me as the demon released his grip on my shoulder, only to immediately seize me by my hair and drag me toward the meeting hall. I gave a strangled cry as I grabbed at his hand with my uninjured one, doing what I could to relieve the pressure on my scalp.

The demon dumped me harshly in a dimly lit open space on the floor, causing me to bang my broken wrist and wringing another cry of pain from me. I still had my other weapon, but it was on my right ankle, which seemed miles away from my uninjured hand. Not that it would do a damn bit of good against the reyza.

I didn’t have the chance to think about it for too long. The demon seized me and pulled me to my knees, then yanked my arms behind my back and wrapped bindings around my wrists. I screamed as bone grated on bone. My vision went dark for several choking seconds as the pain crested, then finally receded into an intense sickening throb, dimly matched by the seething pain in my face and jaw. I barely noticed the demon binding my ankles as I sucked air through my teeth, head down, doing my best to avoid further agony by not moving a muscle.

A man laughed from the darkness in front of me, and I lifted my head. That didn’t sound like Ryan, which meant that this had to be Peter Cerise. Which means that Reverend Thomas isn’t the Symbol Man, I realized with an odd twinge of relief.

The demon rumbled softly from behind me, and I stared in shock as the man stepped forward. “Chief Morse?” I blurted in astonishment.

The Chief of Police of the Beaulac PD stood before me, dressed in a flowing robe of black silk shot through with crimson stitching. He smiled down at me, and for a brief insane moment I thought that he was there to help me, to try to stop Ryan. Then the reality of it came crashing in, and I cursed myself for my stupidity. It all made sense. He, not Reverend Thomas, was Peter Cerise. Chief Eddie Morse was certainly the right age and had managed to create an identity as an outsider so that no one could connect him to Greg. Light-blue eyes watched my reaction and, now that I was looking for it, I could see some resemblance to Greg. I also realized that the rumors that he’d had a face-lift were obviously true. He’d probably had cheek and chin implants as well, to further shift the lines of his face.

“What did you do to my aunt?” I snarled.

Eddie Morse/Peter Cerise gave me a cold smile. “Hello, Kara. Your aunt’s body lives, as per the terms of our agreement.” His lip curled. “Though I don’t know for how long, now that her essence has been stripped from it.” He paused, watching my face as I processed that information.

He used her, used all of her potency. She’s gone. She’s really gone. The last hope that I’d been wrong, that I’d misinterpreted what I’d felt, crumbled away. “Where’s Ryan?” I spat the name.

“Agent Kristoff is alive and well,” Cerise said as he crouched in front of me. “He was a bit of an unexpected bonus. He has enough arcane potential to add quite a bit of strength to the summoning. Makes up for Michelle being so worthless. I don’t know why my son chose to draw her.”

Michelle. He’d had her released so that he could have another sacrifice. I took a shaking breath. Ryan, you bastard! But I understood it now. “Greg liked to draw people who had arcane potential,” I said. “That’s how he could see into them.”

“Yes, and he saved me a great deal of trouble. He unwittingly gave me a handpicked stock of people whose only worth was in their spilled blood.”

“And you killed him.”

“I hated to do it.” He was silent for several heartbeats, and I could almost believe that it was true. Then his face hardened. “It was hard to give up that wonderful opportunity to find people with arcane resonance. It’s very convenient that so many people who are ‘sensitive’ tend to turn to drugs to dull the sensations that no one else can feel and that they just can’t deal with.” Cerise smiled, an unpleasant expression. “But Greg was starting to figure it out, noticing that all the victims were from his comic. He came to the station to speak to you, and he saw me there. He didn’t recognize me at the time, but I knew that he’d felt my arcane potential and would realize who I was soon enough.”

That’s when he called me, I realized. He had a feeling something wasn’t right. “And Reverend Thomas?”

“A convenient tool. I’m on the board of directors for this shithole, and meetings with the reverend gave me an excuse to come here and find out who Greg was drawing. Unfortunately, he decided to work late tonight. Wrong place, wrong time.” He shrugged. “It’s too bad, really. You’re not a bad detective at all. You got further than I ever expected. My last summoning failed, but a summoner’s blood should guarantee success this time. Your aunt, as strong as she is, won’t be quite enough, though she was a pleasant bonus.” His mouth curved into a smirk. “After I saw you reading the arcane resonance on the body at the wastewater plant, I did some digging in your personnel file and realized who your grandmother was. I then began to wonder if you might have inherited her gift. I was delighted to find out that you had. But I was even more delighted to discover that your weird aunt was the little bitch who’d helped my son sabotage the summoning that would have saved his mother.”

I stared at him as a piece of the puzzle clicked into place. He thought that Greg and Tessa had ruined the summoning on purpose. No wonder he’d allowed Greg to think that he had died in the fire!

“I had my demon seize her, intending to use her as a sacrifice. But then he informed me that Tessa was also a summoner.” He practically spat her name, and a glint of fury and hatred flashed in his eyes. “It was a joy to drain her, to feel her life force seep from her body and into my own control.”

Impotent rage and shock surged through me. A summoner had to form part of the circle with blood for any sort of greater summoning. And there was nothing that said it had to be the summoner who was actually leading the ritual. He’s going to link through me and drain me dry, I realized, both in blood and in power, while he remains whole and strong. Just as he had done to Tessa.

“This is all revenge?” I demanded. “All because your summoning failed disastrously thirty years ago?”

“Once again you prove your skills as a detective. You’ve obviously spoken at length to my son and your aunt about it. And I knew that threatening to pull you off the case would only goad you to take even more risks.” His lips curled back in a grin. “So I guess you know who I intend to summon?”

“Rhyzkahl,” I choked out. “He’s too powerful for you. You’ll never be able to contain him.”

“Yes, he’s powerful. And, yes, I’ll be able to contain him and control him. I’m ready this time. I’ve had decades to prepare. And now I have the potency of two summoners to use as I see fit.” He stood and glanced behind me at the demon that towered over us both. “Plus, I have Sehkeril here as my ally.” His smile widened. “Sehkeril will gain a great deal of status with his lord once Rhyzkahl is contained and his realm is captured.”

I craned my neck to look up at the demon. “You’re still nothing but a pawn,” I sneered. “You aren’t a lord. You’re merely a reyza. You’ll get a pat on the head and a cookie.”

The demon snarled and lifted a clawed hand.

“No, don’t kill her!” the summoner commanded. “She’ll be dead soon enough.” Then his smile grew icy as he looked down at me. “Behave yourself, or I’ll give you to him for some sport before we begin.”

My gut clenched even though I knew it was an empty threat. He would need to begin the summoning soon, and there’d be no time for the demon to enjoy raping me. I hoped. Still, I found myself shaking. Good plan, Kara. Piss off the demon while you’re helpless. This might be a good time to ease up on being such a smart-ass.

Cerise could see my reaction, and he laughed. “This is going to be a good night. I have my revenge against the whelp who ruined my summoning before, and soon I’ll have in my control the Demonic Lord who slew my wife.” He yanked his robes open at his chest, revealing an intricate twining of scars that I abruptly realized was an exquisite depiction of the symbol. “He gave me pain,” he said, as he let his robes fall closed again. He pushed his sleeves up to show me the uneven sheen of long-healed burns. “And I will return that pain to him a hundredfold.” He stooped again, reaching and yanking my backup gun out of my ankle holster. “It’s common knowledge that you wear a backup, m’dear,” he said. Then he tipped his head back, inhaling deeply and dramatically. “It is time. Bring her to the circle.”

Tears of pain and anguish filled my eyes as the demon dragged me farther into the meeting hall, dropping me to flop onto my side just outside the circle. I struggled to keep my broken wrist close to my body, trying to minimize the agony.

Squat candles placed in precise order around a large diagram threw a dim flickering light, barely visible in the illumination coming from the moon. A sharp, bitter smell drifted through the room, as if someone had been burning ants on hot metal. The diagram was at least three times the size of anything I had ever used. It needed to be that big, I realized, feeling ill. He was going to have a great deal going on—calling an incredibly powerful Demonic Lord, with at least two sacrifices in the center.

I could see a bound figure already in the center of the circle. Michelle. A flare of helpless anger tightened my belly. There was nothing I could do for her. I had no idea how to save myself, much less her. The girl was nude, bound at wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles, gagged but not blindfolded. Michelle’s eyes met mine, eyes that were wide and wild, stark with more terror than the girl had likely ever even conceived of before.

“And now Agent Kristoff can join us,” the chief announced. I followed his gaze to see Ryan step out of the shadowed hall, his face twisted in a feral snarl. The demon loomed behind him like a personal guardian, wings spread menacingly.

The flash of fury that surged through me was white-hot, the full force of all the pent-up hurt and betrayal and fear.

“Ryan!” I snarled. “You fucking asshole—”

“Kara—”

“You fucked me over!” I screamed at him, pain briefly forgotten in the haze of my anger.

He continued forward, then, to my shock, the demon shoved him roughly from behind, and only a last-minute tuck of his shoulders saved him from doing a face-plant.

Which would have happened since his wrists were handcuffed behind his back.

“Oh,” I said in a small voice, feeling a jolting mix of shame and sick-sweet relief that I’d been wrong. “Okay, maybe not.”

Ryan groaned and lifted his head to meet my eyes. “Ya think?”

I let out a breathless laugh. The chief had played me completely. “I thought you were in league with the Symbol Man. I’m sorry, Ryan,” I said, voice breaking on his name. “I should have trusted in you.”

He snorted. “Silly you. I’m pretty darn wonderful. Now, you would be much more believable as a serial killer.” He gave me a crooked smile that I found myself returning.

“Enough,” Cerise snapped. “Bind him and put him in the circle.”

Ryan clenched his jaw as the demon quickly bound his ankles, then lifted him and dumped him rudely beside Michelle. As the demon stepped close to her, she gave a muffled squeak of terror, eyes so filled with horror that I was forced to wonder if the demon had already engaged in “sport.”

I tried to shift my wrists in the bindings, but the pain of the broken bones flared hotly, forcing me to take several deep breaths to keep the nausea at bay.

“I’m so sorry, Detective Gillian,” Cerise said. “You don’t get a turn in the circle. I need you and your essence right here with me.” He looked to a high window in the wall that had the moon perfectly framed. “In the few moments that you have left to live, you’ll have the opportunity to witness the greatest summoning ever performed.” He gaze slid to me. “I think you’ll enjoy it, albeit briefly. There are many who say that Rhyzkahl is quite beautiful.”

He doesn’t know, I realized with a cold shock. He didn’t know that I had already encountered Rhyzkahl. But could I turn that to my advantage? I was pretty shy of advantages at the moment.

I can call him to me. Ice formed in my gut at the thought of this world ruled by a Demonic Lord. Humans enslaved, resources plundered, potency drained. No. There has to be another way.

Before I could think about it any more, Cerise approached me with a knife and yanked my left arm up at the elbow, sending another blinding flare of pain shooting through me. Willing myself to not black out, I sucked in breath, barely feeling the fire of the slice that he made in my left forearm.

I turned my head and watched in sick fascination as my blood flowed from the cut in the vein into a silver bowl held by the demon. It wasn’t a deep-enough cut for me to bleed out, at least not quickly, but it was enough for what he needed. After the bowl held what was probably a pint of blood, he dropped my arm and strode back to the circle, dipping a thick brush into the bowl and then carefully painting the outer perimeter of the circle with my blood. I shuddered as I saw the potencies flare into life, winding energies and complex structures that I had to grudgingly admit were elegantly created. It would probably work, I realized.

He was insane, yes, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. His planning had been meticulous, even down to luring me—a summoner—right into the ritual so that he could utilize my potency and essence for the bulk of the calling, saving his own strength for the binding of the lord. This level of summoning required the decades of preparation that Peter Cerise had devoted to it, as well as the alliance of a powerful high-level demon.

The energies coruscated in my othersight, and I could see Ryan looking around, wide-eyed, at the twisting runes that I knew he could see clearly. Hell, it was possible that even Michelle could see them, as powerful as they were. Peter Cerise was pouring all of the potency that he’d stored from all the victims he’d taken this month into this.

A sudden wave of weakness struck me. It’s starting, I realized with horror. He’s pulling potency from me. How long will I be able to last?

Cerise stood at the edge of the diagram, the silk of his robes fluttering in the arcane energy. Power arced dramatically from his hands as he crafted bindings that I knew would be holding an immensely powerful creature. And he’d be able to do it too. The diagram was flawless, the runes exquisitely prepared.

And there’s going to be a fucking lunatic on the loose with the power of a Demonic Lord on his leash. Might be a good thing that I’ll be dead by the time it happens, I thought grimly as the weakness increased. This world will still be enslaved and plundered, but by Peter Cerise instead.

The light of the circle flared as he began to chant, so brightly that I could barely see Ryan and Michelle in the center. They would die, I knew. And knowing Rhyzkahl, it would not be quickly or easily. Cerise was performing the ritual according to every nuance of the code of honor, which meant that Rhyzkahl would take the sacrifice and then make Ryan and Michelle suffer his retaliation for the fact that he would be enslaved.

Knowing Rhyzkahl…

My breath caught and the ice in my gut grew thicker. That was my only advantage. I knew Rhyzkahl, I was linked to him, and Cerise didn’t know that. I was still outside the circle. If I called Rhyzkahl to me, he would not be entrapped, would not be subject to the bindings and the wards, would not be subject to the will of a sociopath who thought nothing of murdering his own son.

Yeah, and instead Rhyzkahl will be here on this plane, completely unfettered, uncontrolled, and on the loose. I’ll be calling a lord and taking my fucking chances that he won’t rape this sphere. But if I didn’t call him, Ryan and Michelle would die, I would die, and Rhyzkahl would still be in this sphere, but under the control of Peter Cerise. Better the demon you know than the demon you don’t…?

Many were going to die no matter what. Time to decide was rapidly running out. Cerise was shouting the chants now and getting close to the point where he would name the demon. I pushed onto my elbow and struggled up to my knees, fighting the increasing weakness. Cerise paid no attention to me. His full focus was on the summoning.

But the demon was paying attention. His eyes snapped to me as I opened my mouth. He shrieked in rage, bounding across the distance to me as I put the full force of my will into the call. You have to mean it, I remembered my aunt saying.

“RHYZKAHL!” I screamed through the chants.

And time stood still for a heartbeat.

The demon gave an enraged scream, leaping at me and slicing at me with clawed hands. He knows. He knows what I’ve done. I struggled to twist away from him, but his speed was beyond belief. I felt a sharp tug across my chest and on my belly, then a surreal sensation of lightness. There was no pain. It was only the slow-motion vision of the blood spraying and my belly emptying itself before me onto the tile that told me what had happened.

The demon screamed again, spreading his wings as the brilliant runes suddenly went dark.

There was no pain. I collapsed onto my side, seeing the coiled mounds of my bowels beyond my body amid the spreading stain of blood. I’m not dead. But I would be soon. Had I called him in time? Sounds echoed strangely. I thought I heard Ryan shouting. I knew I heard Cerise.

“What have you done?” he screamed. He spun to face me, enraged. “You fucking bitch! What have you done? Where is he? What did you do?”

I turned my head lazily and smiled up at him. “I’ve got your Demonic Lord right here,” I rasped. “Bitch.”