Mark of the Demon
Page 39

“Hi, sweetie, it’s me. I just wanted to wish you good luck in your summoning tonight.” She probably thinks I’m summoning Kehlirik again, I thought. Under any other circumstance she’d be right too. “Not that you need it,” the recording continued. “You’re so damn talented. I guess I don’t tell you that enough. I also don’t tell you enough that coming to live with you was the best thing that ever happened to me. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever told you that. And I should have. I whined for too long about having my life upended, but the truth is, I didn’t have much of a life before you came into it.” She gave a small laugh. “Okay, this has become unbearably sappy. Sorry about that. Call me when you finish up. Love you.”
I hit the button to save the recording, a silly smile on my face and a sniffle in my nose. I hit the speed dial for her number, mentally shifting what I’d originally planned to say.
A deep rumbling voice that was most assuredly not my aunt’s answered.
“Greetings, little summoner.”
Cold filled me and my grip tightened convulsively on the phone. That’s a higher demon, I thought wildly. Shit, did Aunt Tessa summon one tonight? But why would it be answering her phone? My thoughts whirled chaotically for a short instant, forcefully denying the other possibilities.
“I would like to speak to my aunt,” I managed to say, more calmly than I had expected to sound.
A soft hiss. “She is indisposed. Perhaps you would care to join her?”
I took a ragged breath. “What have you done to her? Where is she?” No. No. Not Tessa. Not now. Not before I had a chance to tell her …
“Her blood is strong, little summoner,” the deep voice continued. “Is yours as potent? There is another summoner here who would like to find out.”
“Tell Ryan to go fuck himself!” I yelled, shaking.
I heard the demon rumble in his version of laughter. “Come to the outreach center on Seventh Street, and we will use your blood instead of hers.”
I was silent, gripping the phone so tightly I could feel the plastic gouging into my palm. The outreach center. Ryan wasn’t the right age to be Peter Cerise. But Reverend Thomas was, and he would have had plenty of opportunity to peruse Greg’s drawings. And why else use the outreach center?
But if I went there I would be giving up the chance to stop him from binding Rhyzkahl. Shit. “Will you release her if I come?” My stomach churned. He wouldn’t release her. I knew it. He’d use her, and use me, and succeed in the binding.
There was silence on the line, then the demon gave a low growl. “If you come, she will be released.”
“Unharmed?”
“Too late for that,” he responded, sending another chill through me.
“Alive?” My voice broke.
“She will be released alive.”
“Your oath on it?”
“I swear on my essence that, if you come, she will be released alive.”
“Fine,” I said, my blood roaring in my ears. “I’ll be there.”
The line went dead and I slowly unclasped my fingers. The cell phone dropped to the table and I gripped the back of the chair. There was no way I could leave her there. My gaze slid to the door to the basement, nausea filling me. Up until this moment, it had been just a matter of theory that a few more people would die while I summoned. I’d even somewhat accepted that he had Michelle and that she was going to be sacrificed. But now … Aunt Tessa!
The only family I had left.
I wouldn’t be able to summon now. Even if I could leave my aunt to die, my concentration was shattered. I’d never even get the portal open. I had no choice.
I picked up the envelope containing the letter I’d written to her and tore it into pieces. A flare of anger speared through me and I nursed it, drew it in as I let the bits of paper flutter to the floor. The fatalism had returned, but it was different now. I’ll go, I thought grimly as I changed clothes, strapping my Glock onto my belt and my Kel-Tec into my ankle holster. And maybe I’ll die. But I’m gonna do my best to fucking take Ryan and the Symbol Man with me.
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.