Blood of the Demon (20 page)

“You’re right,” Ryan agreed. “But Roth would still have had to mount a campaign.”

“Which would have cost him major bucks,” Jill finished, nodding knowingly.

I couldn’t help but feel a little stupid as I looked back and forth between them. “How do you two know so much about politics? And how much money are we talking about?”

Jill grinned. “My dad used to be a councilman down in New Orleans. And I’d be willing to bet that a campaign against even a crap opponent in this little parish would cost, oh, maybe a hundred grand or so.” She gave Ryan a questioning look. “You agree?”

He folded his arms across his chest, gaze skimming the crowd again. “That sounds about right.”

I closed my dropped jaw. “A hundred grand? Are you kidding? For a piddling parish election?”

“A judge has a lot of power,” Ryan reminded me. “And costs add up in a campaign. If you add in television, it gets even more expensive.”

“Right,” Jill said. “Now, that’s not all out of his own pocket—a majority of that is from campaign contributions—but anyone who runs for public office has to be prepared to shell out a fair chunk of change. Of course, a sitting judge is going to have an easier time getting contributions.”

I caught movement from the corner of my eye, and I stiffened. I almost didn’t look at the pair approaching me, then changed my mind. No, I was
not
going to let those two moronic detectives intimidate me. I took a deep breath, then turned to look straight at Pellini and Boudreaux as they came up to me, steeling myself for another of their obnoxious comments about my funeral.
At least I have Ryan and Jill beside me
.

But instead of making a snide crack, Boudreaux stopped in front of me and stuck his hand out. I looked down at his hand for a heartbeat, then looked up at his face, perplexed. What the fuck was he up to now?

“Kara,” he said, voice quiet and earnest, “I wanted to let you know that I’m glad everything worked out for you with the Symbol Man case. You did the department real proud, and I’m glad you came through it safely.”

I continued to stare at him.
Who are you, and what the fuck have you done with Boudreaux?
I wrenched my gaze over to Pellini, but his expression was as open and earnest as Boudreaux’s. Boudreaux still stood there with his hand
extended, and after another few heartbeats I was able to lift my own hand to his. He smiled and shook it, then stepped back. Pellini shook my hand next, and for an instant I thought he was going to pull me into a man-hug, but instead he merely gave me a smile that was amazingly close to being nice. Good thing, too, because I was pretty sure that if he’d tried to hug me, I might have kneed him in the crotch out of pure reflexive instinct.

They walked out, leaving me to stare after them in absolute shock. I turned to look at Jill and was relieved to see a similarly stunned expression on her face.

“What the fuck happened to those two?” she asked. “Did we slip into an alternate universe?”

I gave a baffled shrug. “That’s the most reasonable explanation I can think of.” I shook my head. “Too fucking weird. Hell, it’s probably a setup for some nasty joke. Oh, well, I’m ready to get out of here.”

Jill glanced at her watch, grimacing. “I need to dig out too. Shitload of work to catch up on.” She gave me a quick hug, then headed out the door.

“C’mon, Fed Boy,” I said to Ryan, then saw that he was staring off into the distance again. I snapped my fingers in front of his face. “Yo, Ryan. Time to go.”

He pushed off the wall, then winced and put a hand up to his head.

I seized his arm as he swayed. “Are you all right?”

Straightening, he brushed his hand over his face and gave me a shaky smile. “I’m all right. I think I have a migraine coming on. Must be the heat in here.”

His voice was steady, but his eyes were like hollow pits in his face. “Do you want me to bring the car around?”

“I can make it to the car. I’m all right. I just need to
close my eyes for a few minutes.” He shrugged and smiled, but I could see it was forced.

I walked with him to the car, trying not to look like I was hovering over him. To anyone else it probably looked like he was merely walking slowly, but I had the unnerving impression that he was struggling to stay upright. I’d never had a migraine, but I couldn’t imagine that the bright sun and south Louisiana heat were helping matters any.

Ryan climbed into the car and practically collapsed into the seat, pulling the door closed and then leaning back against the headrest. I started to slide into the driver’s seat, then paused, narrowing my eyes at a car on the other side of the parking lot.
How many bright red Mercedes convertibles can there possibly be in Beaulac? And I doubt that Davis Sharp is driving his
. I hadn’t seen Elena Sharp inside the auditorium, and I was fairly certain that I would have noticed had she been in attendance. So why would she be out in the parking lot now?

As I watched, the red Mercedes thrummed to life and then sped off in a roar of quality German engineering. I caught a quick glimpse of the driver—she was wearing sunglasses, but I was still fairly convinced that it was Elena Sharp.

I shrugged it off for now and got into the car, cranking the engine to get the AC going. “Put your seat belt on. Are you all right?” I asked again.

He complied with my command. “I’ll be fine. Just need to close my eyes for a bit,” he repeated.

“You look like shit,” I said, as I pulled out into traffic.

“You’re one to talk,” he replied. I glanced at him sharply. It hadn’t been delivered with any tone of joking,
but I bit back my reply. He obviously didn’t feel well, and there was no point in me overreacting.

I maintained my silence as I drove back to my house, and when I pulled into my driveway I saw that he was asleep. At least I hoped he was asleep. I felt a quick stab of fear that something awful had happened, but his chest still rose and fell in a nicely reassuring manner.

I parked the car in front of the house and gently nudged his shoulder, really hoping I could wake him up, since I didn’t want to think about carrying him into the house. But his eyes snapped open as soon as I touched him.

“We’re at my house. Do you want to crash here for a bit?”

He rubbed at his face, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds good.”

He seemed steadier on his feet as he walked to the house and up the stairs. The twenty-minute nap he’d taken in the car had obviously helped a lot. “Are you hungry?” I asked as I headed to the kitchen.

He hesitated, then nodded again. “I should probably eat something.”

I searched through my fridge for something quick and easy. I finally settled on a microwaved mini-pizza. I half-expected him to make a crack about my cooking, but he didn’t even bat an eyelash, merely wolfed it down in about three bites. I was relieved to see some color come back to his face after he ate, though he still had dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn’t slept for a week. I thought I had the monopoly on those.

I stuck another pizza in the microwave, and when I turned back around he had an empty wine bottle in his
hand, looking at it with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. I groaned inwardly.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I don’t have a drinking problem. I was trying to relax enough to get some sleep last night. And for the record, that was emptied over the course of about a week.”

His eyes lifted to mine. “I never said you had a drinking problem.”

“You didn’t have to.” I took the bottle out of his hand and dumped it in the trash, wincing as it clanked harshly against the two other bottles in there already.

“My, aren’t we touchy.”

I took a deep breath to calm myself. “You’re right, I am.” I busied myself with getting the second pizza out of the microwave and putting it on his plate. “Sorry.”

He lifted the pizza and blew on it to cool it. “Did you summon again Saturday night?”

I blinked at the non sequitur. “Yeah.”

“That’s cool.” An oddly strained silence fell for another minute or so while he ate. At least he was looking better. I expected him to ask me more about my summoning, but if he wasn’t going to ask, I wasn’t going to offer.

Finally he leaned back in the chair and pushed his empty plate away. “Okay, much better,” he said, giving me a more normal smile. “So, what did you summon that wears boots?”

I stared at him, then twisted to look at the floor by the back door. Great. A damn near perfect boot print.
Shit. Teach me to mop my floors more often
. “I … uh, I summoned Rhyzkahl.”

He frowned at me. Or, rather, he gave me a facial expression that was about ten times as frowny as a frown. “How the fuck?
Why
the fuck?”

I forced a laugh, trying not to look guilty, which was how I felt for some reason. “I know, I know. But he wanted me to summon him, and I was given his oath that I would not be harmed.”

He lowered his head and looked at me, gaze penetrating. “What did he want?”

“He, uh … wants me to be ‘his’ summoner.”

His expression didn’t change. “And how does
that
work?”

I briefly explained what I knew, especially pointing out the bit about how he would still be constrained by the summoning protocols. “I don’t think he’s been to this sphere for centuries, except for the botched summonings and the time I called him, and he didn’t exactly get to see the sights then,” I said.

Ryan snorted. “I’m trying to picture him walking through a mall.”

I laughed. “That would turn some heads.”

“He’d probably get scooped up by a model talent scout.”

“Right! I can see him on the cover of
GQ
.”

“Yeah, pulling the head off someone like a fly.”

The comment, delivered so evenly, shocked me to silence.

“Don’t forget what he is, Kara,” Ryan said in a low voice, gaze steady on me and all trace of humor gone.

Annoyance surged through me. “I know what he is, Ryan,” I replied, more calmly than I expected. “I’m the summoner, remember?” I couldn’t believe that he was trying to warn me about demons. I’d been summoning for ten years, and he’d never even
seen
a demon before a couple of months ago.

“I remember. And that’s why I worry about you.” He
stood, chair scraping on the tile floor. “Yes, he saved your life, and I’m deeply grateful for that. But you were the one who told me that the demons never do anything for the sake of being nice. I just don’t want to see you putting yourself in a position of being bound to him.”

I could feel myself scowling, even though I wanted to show myself as calm and cool. “Look, I’m being careful. I’m considering everything.”

The troubled expression on his face etched a bit deeper. “Just … shit, don’t let him get too …
close
to you, all right?”

It was getting harder to keep my expression neutral. “Too close to me how?” I wasn’t so sure I was as successful in keeping my voice even.

He scowled. “Fucking shit, Kara. Do I have to spell it out? I’m worried that you’re going to fall for that gorgeous face and body and forget what he is, and that you’ll succumb to him and end up in his thrall and forget—” He bit off whatever it was he was about to say and looked away, an expression of pain flashing across his features so quickly that I wasn’t even sure that’s what it was. He took a shuddering breath. “And forget … who you are,” he finished.

I worked moisture back into my mouth. “I find that a bit insulting,” I said carefully, measuring each word as it came out. “I know who I am.”

He growled something under his breath and jammed his hands down into his pockets. “Shit, you know what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I do,” I said. “You think that I’ll fall into his arms and then forget that he’s a demon and rush to do his bidding and lose all self-control. End up in his thrall, right?”

His eyes flashed with anger and something else I couldn’t interpret. “No. Yes. Shit. Kara, come on. I’m sorry, but the thought of you and that creature together …” He gave his head a shake, as if to rid it of an unpleasant image. “It makes me want to throw up.”

I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Holy shit! Are you
jealous?”

He shot me a look of such pure menace that I took a step back. In the next heartbeat it was gone, replaced by an expression of frustration, making me doubt what I’d seen. “I’m not
jealous,”
he spat. “Don’t be stupid.”

I stared at him for about ten seconds. Then I turned away and busied myself pointlessly with cleaning up the counter. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to be stupid. Wouldn’t want you to hang out with someone who might lose every ounce of brain they have if they look at a gorgeous guy.”
And why can’t you be jealous?
I added silently, throat tight.
Just a little?

“Ah, fuck, Kara.” He sighed. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

I industriously wiped the counter down. I didn’t want to turn around. Didn’t want him to see that I was blinking furiously to keep the damn tears back. When had I become so fucking weak?

After several seconds of silence, I heard him sigh again. “I need to take care of some stuff. Are you going to be all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said, rinsing the sponge out in the sink, twisting it harder than necessary to wring it out. “Are you feeling better?”