Mark of the Demon

He snorted. “Silly you. I’m pretty darn wonderful. Now, you would be much more believable as a serial killer.” He gave me a crooked smile that I found myself returning.

 

“Enough,” Cerise snapped. “Bind him and put him in the circle.”

 

Ryan clenched his jaw as the demon quickly bound his ankles, then lifted him and dumped him rudely beside Michelle. As the demon stepped close to her, she gave a muffled squeak of terror, eyes so filled with horror that I was forced to wonder if the demon had already engaged in “sport.”

 

I tried to shift my wrists in the bindings, but the pain of the broken bones flared hotly, forcing me to take several deep breaths to keep the nausea at bay.

 

“I’m so sorry, Detective Gillian,” Cerise said. “You don’t get a turn in the circle. I need you and your essence right here with me.” He looked to a high window in the wall that had the moon perfectly framed. “In the few moments that you have left to live, you’ll have the opportunity to witness the greatest summoning ever performed.” He gaze slid to me. “I think you’ll enjoy it, albeit briefly. There are many who say that Rhyzkahl is quite beautiful.”

 

He doesn’t know, I realized with a cold shock. He didn’t know that I had already encountered Rhyzkahl. But could I turn that to my advantage? I was pretty shy of advantages at the moment.

 

I can call him to me. Ice formed in my gut at the thought of this world ruled by a Demonic Lord. Humans enslaved, resources plundered, potency drained. No. There has to be another way.

 

Before I could think about it any more, Cerise approached me with a knife and yanked my left arm up at the elbow, sending another blinding flare of pain shooting through me. Willing myself to not black out, I sucked in breath, barely feeling the fire of the slice that he made in my left forearm.

 

I turned my head and watched in sick fascination as my blood flowed from the cut in the vein into a silver bowl held by the demon. It wasn’t a deep-enough cut for me to bleed out, at least not quickly, but it was enough for what he needed. After the bowl held what was probably a pint of blood, he dropped my arm and strode back to the circle, dipping a thick brush into the bowl and then carefully painting the outer perimeter of the circle with my blood. I shuddered as I saw the potencies flare into life, winding energies and complex structures that I had to grudgingly admit were elegantly created. It would probably work, I realized.

 

He was insane, yes, but that didn’t mean he was stupid. His planning had been meticulous, even down to luring me—a summoner—right into the ritual so that he could utilize my potency and essence for the bulk of the calling, saving his own strength for the binding of the lord. This level of summoning required the decades of preparation that Peter Cerise had devoted to it, as well as the alliance of a powerful high-level demon.

 

The energies coruscated in my othersight, and I could see Ryan looking around, wide-eyed, at the twisting runes that I knew he could see clearly. Hell, it was possible that even Michelle could see them, as powerful as they were. Peter Cerise was pouring all of the potency that he’d stored from all the victims he’d taken this month into this.

 

A sudden wave of weakness struck me. It’s starting, I realized with horror. He’s pulling potency from me. How long will I be able to last?

 

Cerise stood at the edge of the diagram, the silk of his robes fluttering in the arcane energy. Power arced dramatically from his hands as he crafted bindings that I knew would be holding an immensely powerful creature. And he’d be able to do it too. The diagram was flawless, the runes exquisitely prepared.

 

And there’s going to be a fucking lunatic on the loose with the power of a Demonic Lord on his leash. Might be a good thing that I’ll be dead by the time it happens, I thought grimly as the weakness increased. This world will still be enslaved and plundered, but by Peter Cerise instead.

 

The light of the circle flared as he began to chant, so brightly that I could barely see Ryan and Michelle in the center. They would die, I knew. And knowing Rhyzkahl, it would not be quickly or easily. Cerise was performing the ritual according to every nuance of the code of honor, which meant that Rhyzkahl would take the sacrifice and then make Ryan and Michelle suffer his retaliation for the fact that he would be enslaved.

 

Knowing Rhyzkahl…

 

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