Mark of the Demon

“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.”

 

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