Fury of the Demon (Kara Gillian) (42 page)

“And now the moment is yours,” Kadir stated and wiped the blood on his mouth away with the back of his hand. I kept my teeth clenched, pygahed desperately, and prayed I wouldn’t upchuck.

Bryce gave a slight nod, face still betraying absolutely nothing, which impressed the hell out of me considering my own reaction. “You’re finished with him?” he asked.

“I am.”

Bryce dropped his gaze to Farouche. “Mr. Farouche? Can you look at me please?”

Breathing in pained whimpers and cradling his arm to his chest, Farouche turned his head to look up at Bryce. His face shifted subtly, and I knew he was attempting to exert his influence, get Bryce back under his thumb—or what was left of it, I thought with a silent snigger.

Bryce met Farouche’s eyes, then drew his gun and shot him in the head.

I jerked, even though I’d known it was coming, but I managed not to startle when Bryce put a second round into the man’s skull.

Bryce exhaled softly and holstered his weapon again, tension slipping from his stance. He’d never intended to taunt Farouche or torture him, I realized. For Bryce, killing Farouche hadn’t been revenge. He’d killed the man to make sure no one else ever died on his order or suffered the way he and Sonny and Paul and countless others had.

Kadir’s gaze went from Bryce to me, then he spoke to me in demon. “Kara Gillian,
shik-natahr
, zharkat of Mzatal. There is no other but you to seal the node when I depart.”

I had no idea what “shik-natahr” meant. The tenuous grove connection hadn’t provided that meaning, but a glance at the node told me that leaving it unsealed was
not
a viable option.

“Tell me what to do,” I said.

He lifted his hand toward my temple, paused as I tensed. A faint smile of dry amusement touched his mouth. “I honor my agreement with Mzatal concerning you,” he stated. “I only wish to transfer that which you require in order to seal the node.”

Right. He wouldn’t fuck around with agreements
or
the condition of the node. I gave him a slight nod and controlled the automatic urge to pull back as he touched my temple. My vision flickered for the barest instant, and then he pulled away, turned, and limped off without another word. I waited a few seconds before following, instructions clear in my head for what to do. Kadir crouched, made a few adjustments to the flows surrounding the node, then stepped through and was gone. I crossed the rubble-littered ground to the gazebo platform and stood before the node portal. I shivered at the feel of the energy—as if the portal sought to pull me through from the inside out. I couldn’t even imagine how miserable traveling through one would be. I pygahed to ensure utmost focus, then quickly sketched the needed sigils and made the adjustments as if I’d been born knowing them. Three heartbeats later the portal aspect of the node narrowed, then closed with little more than a sub-audible
pop
.

I turned to Bryce. “Let’s get out of here.”

Somewhere in the numb void left by Mzatal, I found enough focus to keep going. We weren’t out of this yet, and the hint of distant sirens only emphasized that point. Bryce pulled a flashlight with a red filter from his pocket and lit our way as we double-timed it across Farouche’s property and to the hole Mzatal had melted in the tall and formidable metal fence. I felt Mzatal’s arcane signature as we passed through, like catching a whiff of cologne on a shirt. My chest tightened, and I slowed, but Bryce caught my elbow and urged me onward, over a rise and through a thick stand of bamboo to where an inflatable raft waited on the bank of the bayou that paralleled the fence line.

The rain was barely a light mist now, and stars glimmered to the west, peeking out from behind the retreating storm clouds. After we paddled our way across the sluggish bayou, Bryce pulled a knife and made three long gashes in the vinyl of the raft. Working quickly, we found several decent-sized rocks, rolled the shredded raft around them, then tossed it into the middle of the water to disappear beneath the mud-brown surface. Ryan would have done the same with the raft that had carried him, Sonny, and Angela across. No need to leave them on the shore and make it obvious that people had crossed.

I began to climb up the levee, but Bryce paused, still facing the water. Twitching with impatience, I watched as he unholstered his pistol and disassembled it in about three seconds flat. His expression remained utterly stoic as he chucked the slide and magazine into the water, then he pulled a slim toolkit from a pocket and removed a rasp from it. In a practiced move, he scraped the rasp through the barrel several times, hammered it against the firing pin, then tossed the rest of the gun pieces into the water.

He replaced the little rasp in his toolkit, slipped it back into his pocket, then turned to me. “Let’s go.” The whole process had taken perhaps thirty seconds.

Professional hit man, making sure the gun can’t be traced to the two bullets in Farouche’s skull.
But I didn’t comment aloud, and together we scrambled up the levee and made our way to the vehicles.

Ryan paced an anxious line in front of his car. Sonny leaned against it with his arms folded casually, though his fingers drummed a nervous staccato on his bicep. The back door of the car was open, and as we hurried up a woman I recognized from her picture as Angela Palatino stepped out.

I wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of there and start looking for Zack, but I knew I couldn’t
not
take a few minutes to deal with her. I owed that much to Idris.

The tight grip she held on the top of the car door betrayed the level of her tension, and obvious signs of weeping marred her lovely face. I shot Sonny a questioning glance. Misery filled his expression, and then he briefly put his arms in a baby-holding position.

Baby?
I thought, baffled, but then it clicked. Her daughter. Angela had no doubt asked Sonny where Amber was, and he’d been forced to tell her the brutal truth.

“Is Idris all right?” she asked, eyes flicking briefly past me as if expecting him to come over the levee at any moment.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, only lying a little. Idris was a mess the last time I saw him, but I knew Mzatal would call in every favor he had to
make
him all right. “He went with one of our other operatives for debriefing,” I continued, lying a
lot
this time, then shoved down my impatience to get out of there. “I’m very sorry about your daughter.”

Grief clouded her face. “Thank you.” I saw the questions forming in her eyes—
Why did all this happen? Why was Idris’s cooperation so necessary? Why did my daughter have to die?—
and I quickly spoke to forestall them, since I hadn’t the faintest fucking idea how to answer.

“Agent Kristoff is going to take you to the rest of your family,” I said, gesturing to Ryan. “I’m sorry, but there’s not much more I can tell you at the moment since the investigation is ongoing.”

“But I
will
get answers?” she asked.

“As soon as we have them,” I lied yet again. Her scrutiny remained on me for several more excruciating seconds, and I had the gut-twisting feeling she knew damn well I was feeding her a pile of bullshit. She finally gave a nod, sat back within the car, and closed the door, though I had the definite sense she wasn’t done with me or any of this. She’d merely given me a reprieve.

It was enough for now. I moved to Ryan. “Can you handle getting her to the safe house on your own?” I asked. “I need Sonny.”

Ryan gave me a nod. “Yeah. I got it.”

I glanced to Sonny. “You okay with that?”

He had a deer-in-headlights look about him, but he gave a nod of assent. “Sure. Whatever you need.” A tug of sympathy went through me. Sonny was suddenly in a different world with different rules—a world without Farouche and his influence—and it was clear he didn’t have the faintest clue of how to deal with it. Luckily, I had an idea.

Ryan leveled a stern look at me. “You be careful.”

“Always,” I said.

Sonny slid into the backseat of Zack’s car. Bryce stood by the open passenger door but didn’t get in, and it took me a second to realize he was holding it open for me. “I can drive,” I insisted.

“I know you can.” He smiled, but there was steel behind it. “But I’ll drive.”

My protest died away. He was acutely aware of my identity issues, and intuitive enough to recognize that Mzatal’s behavior and cold distance had left me even more distracted. No doubt he preferred not to be a passenger with a muddled-me driving. I met his eyes with silent gratitude and climbed in.

Bryce settled behind the wheel and cranked the ignition. “Where to, chief?”

“We’re looking for Zack.” Where the hell would a distraught demahnk go in the middle of the night? “Let’s try the Nature Center. There’s a valve there. Gotta start somewhere.”

As Bryce pulled out, I found my phone and called Zack. Voicemail picked up after half a dozen rings.

“Zack, it’s me,” I said. “We’re looking for you. Hang in there. I’ll keep calling.” I disconnected and glanced over to Bryce. “Well, it didn’t go straight to voicemail, which means he still has it on.”

“That’s good.” A frown puckered his mouth. “What the hell
happened
with Zack? All I know is that he somehow took out Rhyzkahl, then vanished.”

I did a mental head-smack. Of course Bryce was clueless. The exchange had been entirely in demon and he didn’t have the benefit of the universal grove translator.

“It’s really complicated,” I said with an apologetic wince. “You can’t breathe a word of this to Ryan.” Bryce gave me a nod, and I glanced in the back seat and got Sonny’s as well.

Of course now I had to figure out what to say. “You remember Ilana?” I asked Bryce. I knew Sonny would be clueless, but no way could I explain the whole demon realm dynamic right now.

When Bryce nodded, I continued. “She’s Mzatal’s demahnk advisor, his ptarl. And Zack is . . . was . . . Rhyzkahl’s ptarl. What you saw was him breaking that bond.” I paused for emphasis. “That’s never
ever
been done before.”

Bryce maintained his bland expression, but there was a hint of
holy shit
in his eyes when he glanced my way. “That sounds pretty big. What happened to Zack?”

“I wish I knew,” I said. “But we have to find him. When he left he looked shattered.”
And how long will Ryan remain stable without him?

Yet we didn’t find him at the Nature Center or the next two places we looked, and though I called his phone several times, it continued to ring then go to voicemail.

“One more try,” I said after a frustrating hour of searching and calling. “If he doesn’t pick up this time, I’ll have to enlist Ryan to trace Zack’s cell.” I
really
didn’t want to involve Ryan in the search, nor did I want to deal with whatever official channels would be necessary for such a thing, but we were running out of options.

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Bryce noted with pragmatic calm.

Once again I called Zack and waited through five rings. But this time, it stopped ringing without going to voicemail, and my heart rate spiked. I couldn’t hear anything on the other end, but I knew Zack had answered. I willed calm into my voice. “Hey, Zack. I’m out looking for you, dude.”

Silence for a good ten seconds. “Kara,” he said, voice thick and hoarse. “I’m okay.”

“You’re such a liar. Where are you?”

“By the lake.” Each word came through as though a huge challenge to speak. “Park in the Worms and Perms lot,” he managed. “West about a hundred yards, then walk in toward the lake. I . . . can’t come to you.”

I looked over at Bryce. “We’re heading for the bait shop on Lakeshore Drive. You know the one?” He nodded and I returned my attention to Zack. “We’ll be there in five minutes, and no, I’m not hanging up.”

The line remained silent, and I had the distinct impression that Zack was gathering enough energy simply to speak. “What happened after I left?” he asked after about half a minute. “I know . . . the qaztahl are all gone, but I can’t sense like I should.”

I did my best to fill him in as we headed his way. The conversation remained fairly one-sided, but I had the sense it helped him simply to hear me talk. I caught him up on the various details, and did my best to ease his deep concern for Szerain/Ryan by relating my theory that he’d used the node to stabilize himself.

The car lurched as Bryce pulled into the empty rutted gravel lot of
Bubba and Barb’s Worms and Perms
, a mom and pop beauty salon and bait shop that had been a lake fixture for almost forty years. It had been rebuilt after Hurricane Katrina, but already had a dilapidated air about it. A single floodlight illuminated the shabby, faded blue building with BEAUTY SUPPLIES, LIVE BAIT and GET WORMS HERE painted on the side. I wasn’t too sure about the selling point of the last one, or the whole concept for that matter, but the place did a thriving business so what the hell did I know?

Bryce parked in the shadow of the building. I climbed out of the car and wrinkled my nose at the smell of the minnow tanks inside and ripe fish guts in the trash. “Zack told me he was a hundred yards that way then straight in toward the lake,” I said. “Bryce, stay with the car and keep your phone handy, please. Sonny, I need you with me.”

Sonny gave me a perplexed look. “Anything you say, but why me?”

“He sounded pretty strung out on the phone,” I told him, then smiled. “I think your ‘chill out’ knack might be handy.”

Comprehension bloomed on his face, along with gratification. I wondered how long it had been since he’d been able to use his ability for good.

“Also,” I continued, “he said he’s not sure if he can walk or not, and I sure as hell don’t want to try and carry him.”

Sonny let out a soft laugh. “I can handle that.”

We left Bryce and made our way through tall grass, swarms of mosquitos, and questionable footing. “Couldn’t he have blipped to a place with a trail?” I grumbled, then lifted the phone to my ear. “Hey, Zack? We should be getting close. Do you hear a herd of elephants nearby?”

“Rhinos,” he replied. “Definitely . . . rhinos, and they need to bear right . . . make their way around the curve.”

We continued to follow his directions and finally found him on a flat spit of stone that extended into the water. He lay curled on his side, his phone on speaker beside him.

I tucked my own phone away. The clouds were gone and the rising moon cast everything in soft light. A fat toad hopped across my path as I moved to Zack and knelt beside him. “I’m here,
ghastuk
,” I said softly, the demon word for friend coming up naturally.

“You’re right, I lied,” he said. “I’m a wreck.” He made what I suspected to be an attempt to sit up but ended up as little more than a body jerk.

I laid my hand on Zack’s shoulder, caught Sonny’s eye, and silently beckoned him to us. “No shit. But it’s going to be all right.”

Sonny moved in quickly, helped me get Zack sitting cross-legged, then withdrew a few feet, watchful. Zack scrabbled for my hand, found it, and hung on.

“It’s not all right,” he said. “It’s
not
.” The desolation in his voice matched the despair in his eyes. “There is only silence.
Silence
,” he said in a heart-wrenching whisper.

“We’re going to help you,” I told him. “That’s something you can hang on to.” The reminder of Mzatal’s silence and imposed distance twisted like a knife in my heart, but I swallowed the temptation to sink into my own pain and focused on Zack. I kept hold of his hand and wrapped my other arm around his shoulders. “Tell me what’s going on with you so I know how to help.”

“Isolated.” His voice lurched as though the word forced its way through suffocating grief. “Crippled.”

I gestured Sonny closer. He moved forward until he was only about a foot away. Zack took a deeper breath and eased his grip on my hand, and I hoped that meant Sonny was having a positive effect on him.

“All right, you’re isolated from the other demahnk,” I said, doing my best to understand. “It’s some sort of telepathic link that’s silent now?”

“From Rhyzkahl as well,” Zack said, expression bleak, but then he shook his head. “Not telepathic. Different. You  . . . understand.”

I frowned, puzzled. “I do? How?” I thought for a moment. “You mean with Mzatal?”

“Similar.”

“Oh.” Now I had a far better understanding of the magnitude of his loss. Mzatal had built a wall but he hadn’t cut our connection. When I followed the silence, he was still there. Not so for Zack. And it hadn’t been just one connection. He’d lost them all simultaneously. Pain sliced through me in sympathy.

“How are you crippled?” I asked. Maybe knowing the specifics would help me help him.

“Cannot sense properly,” Zack said. “Cannot feel. Cannot travel. I managed to get here, but no more.” His voice broke, and he trembled softly. “Cannot flow. Cannot extend. Bound to human flesh.”

I had no idea what flowing or extending meant, but now wasn’t the time to ask. Wrapping my arms around him, I held him close. He clung to me like a drowning man to a life preserver, and then gave in to his sorrow. He wept in big shuddering sobs that shook us both, and grief and loss as powerful as the aura of a qaztahl washed over me. I wept with him, held him, and did as much as I could to let him know I was there for him.