Blood of the Demon
Page 29

“Why not? I would think that they’d want to see Roth taken down.”
His face twisted in annoyance and frustration. “They did. But they also wanted significant financial restitution, and fairly soon. Sam was pretty ill, and the medical bills were crushing them. They weren’t happy when we had to tell them that there was no guarantee that restitution would happen and, even if it did, it might take years. That sort of thing is completely out of our control.”
I groaned. “So they resorted to blackmail.”
His expression darkened. “That’s our best guess.”
I looked at him for several heartbeats. “Whoever killed them is also our essence-eater. But you’re not convinced that it was Roth who pulled the trigger, are you?”
He shook his head. “Judge Roth isn’t the only one who stood to lose if the corruption was exposed and not the only one in a position to be blackmailed. People who worked with him, campaign contributors, business associates … If we can ever get a break on this case, it’s going to be a pretty massive shitstorm.”
“Welcome to Louisiana politics,” I muttered.
“It’s a fucking spectator sport down here, isn’t it?” Ryan took another bite of taco. “All right, let’s keep going with the brainstorming. We also have the fact that Elena Sharp pressed charges twice against her husband for domestic violence and dropped them twice.”
I had to grimace. That one I knew about. “Unfortunately, that’s not all that uncommon. I can’t count the number of times I’ve done the paperwork to put some jerk-off in jail, only to have the wife or girlfriend—or boyfriend—come down and bail said jerk-off out.”
His mouth twisted. “All the time professing their undying love, right?”
“Something like that.”
“Did Elena Sharp strike you as that type?”
“Not really. I mean, not the undying love part, at least. Unless it was undying love of the lifestyle that she didn’t want to give up.” I rolled my eyes. “To add to the fun, there’s a rumor floating around that she was having an affair of her own—with our dear Judge Roth—and that Davis Sharp threw her out.” I gave a shrug. “But my source was a Cardio Barbie in the locker room at the gym, so who knows how reliable the information was.”
“Would that explain why she filed for divorce?” Ryan pointed out.
“I don’t think so. She enjoyed being married to money. Why would she leave that to be Roth’s mistress? She was afraid of something … or someone—so much so that she was willing to leave her comfy lifestyle.”
“Maybe Davis wanted the divorce and had someone pressure her.”
“Possible. Let’s write it all down.”
“I am, I am.” He set the pen down after a moment and pushed the pad to me. “So. Connected?”
I looked down, then looked up. “I have no fucking idea. I can’t read your writing.”
He let out a snort. “Well, you’ve got three of the Roths connected.”
“Carol and Brian, supposed murder—suicide—though I’m still not buying that scenario,” I said, renewed annoyance flaring that I didn’t have those cases anymore. I had very little faith that Pellini would push to find out who really killed them. “Brian’s the son of the judge who is being investigated by the FBI for misconduct, and one of his main supporters, Davis Sharp, was found ass end up in the shower. Sharp happened to buy a piece of drug-seizure property for a song—property that was seized from the Galloways, who are also dead because they apparently tried to blackmail someone involved in the whole thing.” I frowned down at the piece of paper. “So Harris Roth is connected to all of them, but why would he kill Carol and Brian? Or Davis Sharp? Even if he was boffing Elena, would that be worth murdering Sharp? I could possibly see him killing the Galloways if he was trying to cover shit up. But the others? And if it’s him, how is he consuming essences? Or does he have something else doing it for him? And did he get that dog-thing to attack us?”
Ryan pulled the pad back to him. “Yeah, we’re still missing a few pieces.”
“A few?”
His mouth twitched in a smile. “Okay, a lot.” He unwrapped another taco and started in on it. “Have you been able to find out anything about what could suck down essences like that?”
I shook my head, feeling another surge of annoyance that I’d screwed up my freebie questions from Rhyzkahl. “Still working on that. I’ll be spending my free time in that damn library. And whoever it is, they’re getting stronger, or at least better at it. Sam and Sara weren’t already dead or dying when the killer pulled their essence out.”
Ryan picked up spilled meat and cheese and stuffed it back into the taco. “Yeah, that’s not encouraging news.”
“More research for me,” I said with a sigh.
“Well, be careful of that portal-thing.”
I looked at the pile of empty wrappers in front of him. I’d eaten three, and it looked like Ryan had torn through almost the rest of the dozen in the few minutes we’d been talking. “Good grief, Ryan,” I said with a laugh. “Hungry?”
He grinned. “I’m storing up my strength, in case all of this turns out to be anywhere near as nasty as the last case I worked on with you.”
“Ugh, don’t even say that! I don’t feel like dying again.”
“Yeah, I’d probably have to pay for the funeral myself this time.”
I laughed. “Take up a collection! All of my adoring fans.”
“And your ex-boyfriends. And all of the coworkers you’ve been accused of sleeping with.” He grinned. “Come on, I know you have the hots for Pellini and Boudreaux.”
“I just ate. Don’t do that to me.”
He laughed. “I’m sure you have plenty of adoring ex-lovers. I’d have to hire security to keep them from throwing themselves onto the coffin in grief.”
“Sad to say, I doubt you’ll have to chase too many away,” I replied with a mock sigh. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had sex with a human.”
The words were out of my mouth before I fully realized what I’d said. I fought to keep the teasing smile on my face, praying desperately that Ryan wouldn’t understand the meaning beneath the words.
He slowly set the unfinished taco down and wiped his hands off, face going very still. I could see the thoughts ticking behind his eyes, putting together various comments and clues. Sweat stung my armpits, and a sick misery began to coil in my chest. No, no, no. He’s going to freak out.
“A human?” he said, green-gold eyes lifting to mine, voice unbearably even.
I started to babble out a denial, some sort of retraction, but I knew it would sound lame and pathetic. Screw it. I was in this far. And what fucking business was it of his anyway? “The first time I encountered Rhyzkahl, I … uh …” Okay, maybe not so easy to say outright. At least not to Ryan.
His expression froze, his eyes going dark with either pain or fury. I couldn’t tell. When he spoke his voice was so cold I thought it would crack. “You slept with him?”
I felt as if someone had dumped ice down my back. I’d been worried that he might have a guy-jealousy type of reaction, but this was something far more intense, as if he suddenly despised me. Stop it, I railed at myself. Stop caring so much what he thinks. It wasn’t working. I couldn’t help it. I did care. I couldn’t bear the thought of him not liking me or respecting me anymore. “It’s not how you think.” I was trying to be calm, cool. I wasn’t being very successful. “I mean, it’s not like I summoned him and then immediately jumped his bones. I was scared to death at first. I thought he was going to destroy me!”
I swear he bared his teeth. “He raped you?”
“Holy shit! No. No, it was … it was totally consensual. No coercion or anything.”
His face was like stone. “I don’t get it. I don’t get why you would have sex with a creature like that. I figured you for someone who had more self-respect than that.”
I felt as if my breath had been robbed from me, and for several gaping seconds I could only struggle to regain the power of speech. “Self-respect?” I finally managed. “Who the fuck are you to be all self-righteous about this?”
“I just can’t believe you fucked that thing!” he retorted, voice rough with what I could only assume was utter disdain. “Why … why would you do that?”
I stared at him, trying to control my anger and hurt and my ripping disappointment in him. I’d never imagined that he could be this judgmental, and I had the sick suspicion he was seeing me as someone who was so weak and needy that I had to find comfort from a demon lover.
“Because I’m lonely!” I exploded, standing and nearly tipping the stool over. “Because I’ve only ever had two boyfriends, and they were shitty in bed, and they never stayed very long anyway. I had this incredibly gorgeous guy wanting to kiss me and make love to me, and I wanted it. I don’t have many friends. I mean, shit! I know he was just trying to get something from me, but y’know what? I wanted something from him too. I wanted to be touched and wanted and to feel—for a few fucking minutes—that I was sexy and desirable. And to feel—for a few fucking minutes—a way I knew I’d never felt before and would probably never feel again!” I stood there, chest heaving. Shit. Shit. How could I have said all that? How could he judge me like that?
His face twisted in what looked like a snarl, and his knuckles whitened as he balled his hands into fists. He abruptly stood and came around the end of the counter in two quick strides. I backed away in shock as he reached for me, my heart slamming in my chest as I came up against the sink. Was he really so angry that he would strike out at me? I couldn’t believe it, but why else come at me like that?
But he froze as I retreated, his eyes haunted and his hand still extended toward me. I looked at him, wide-eyed, waiting to see what he was going to do.
We stood in that tableau for a breath, then he dropped his hand, suddenly looking tired and defeated. He was silent for several heartbeats, eyes on me as if desperately searching for something. Then he looked away. “I … should probably go now,” he said, voice thick.
I swallowed, then gave a jerky nod. “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” I managed to keep my voice from shaking, at least.
He turned to go but paused at the kitchen door, hand on the door frame, not looking back at me. “Thank you for helping out at the crime scene,” he said, voice so low and rough I could barely hear him.
He continued out, and I heard the front door open and close. “You’re welcome,” I whispered. Then I gave in and sat on the floor of the kitchen and cried my heart out.
Chapter 24
The chalk crumbled in my hand as I completed the last sigil in the circle on the basement floor. I sat back on my heels and brushed the fragments away, careful not to mar the diagram itself. I felt unspeakably calm. Or unspeakably empty. Either way, my hands didn’t shake and my focus was sharper than it had been since I’d come back from the dead.
After Ryan left, I allowed myself to wallow in sobbing misery for more than an hour, then drove home, feeling as if something had let go. I don’t need his approval, I’d thought with a combination of anger and misery. Besides, who the fuck was he to preach to me about the dangers of dealing with demons?
I crawled into bed and slept like the dead for nearly four hours, then woke just as the sun was dipping below the tops of the trees that surrounded my house. I had more than enough time to prepare for a summoning. It wasn’t a full moon, but that was the whole point.
I went through the protocols of the summoning carefully, but with a fluid ease that was gratifying. And when the time came to pull potency from the storage diagram, the power flowed into my control with a sweet and smooth surge, easily channeled into the ritual.
“Rhyzkahl.” His name filled the room as I held the portal open. I’d shaped this summoning as more of a call than a command—something that would normally have been wildly dangerous, but I was confident that Rhyzkahl would not seek retribution. Not when he’d already made it clear that he wanted further access to this sphere.
I felt the surge of power that indicated that something had come through the portal, and I invoked the bindings—more as a protection in the event that something other than Rhyzkahl had come through than for protection against the demonic lord. I knew too well that I didn’t have the means to hold him.
The portal closed and Rhyzkahl straightened, a smile playing on his beautiful face as I released the bindings and wards. I didn’t say anything, just stood beyond the edge of the diagram and waited. His eyes traveled over me and then—as expected—flicked to the storage diagram.
He let out a low laugh. “Very clever, dear one. Your moon is waning, and here you are with a demonic lord at your beck and call.”
The last was a gibe, I knew, especially since I’d been punished before for assuming that I could get the lord to serve me. I inclined my head. “I have no right to expect you to be at my beck and call, my lord.”
He stepped out of the diagram and over to me, putting a hand beneath my chin and tipping my head up. “You are more rested, I see.”
“I would not wish to squander your gift, my lord.”
He dropped his hand and laughed. “Please dispense with this obeisance, Kara. It does not suit you.” He walked past me to the table in front of the cold fireplace, then turned to look back at me. “I am more pleased than you can know that you have discovered a way to circumvent the constraints of your dependence on the lunar cycle.”