It took me nearly three hours to clean up the basement and remove all evidence of arcane activity, scrubbing down the concrete floor to erase any traces of diagrams and hiding away my implements. It took me another hour to gather together the potencies to lay a few false trails and place some small protections—all the time certain that the knock on the door would be coming at any minute. Of course, it did occur to me that, if he never came back with a warrant, this whole fiasco had been a good exercise in concealment and use of potency. And, I had to admit to myself, one that I probably should have done a while back.
I stepped back and surveyed the room. To any mundane eye, it looked just like a basement library—a comfortable little quiet study, with smooth concrete floor and wood-paneled walls. To the arcanely trained eye, there was far more to see, but most of it was false trails and muddled signs. Yep, I definitely need to have a quicker method for hiding and cleaning up. In fact, I realized guiltily, I really needed to make it a habit to clean up and hide my implements after every summoning, just to be on the safe side. I’d become far too lazy and complacent. A drawback to having hardly any visitors.
The sun was just beginning to poke through the curtains in the foyer as I emerged from the basement, but at least I was ready for him to come with a search warrant now. I sighed heavily and flopped onto the couch in the living room. The clock on the mantel read five a.m. He probably wouldn’t be able to get a judge to sign a warrant before eight a.m., unless he wanted to go wake one up. And then it would take at least an hour to get a team together. Enough time for a nap, I decided, eyes already closing. I curled up on the couch, tugging an afghan throw over me. Screw him. I was ready.
“YOU ARE ENTERTAINING men in your house? Should I be jealous?”
I opened my eyes, blinking in the sunlight shining onto the couch. Someone stood in front of the window, and all I could see was the silhouette of someone tall. “Huh?” I squinted and shaded my eyes. “Ryan?”
The figure laughed, and I went cold. Not Ryan. He stepped forward and now I could see the heavy fall of white-blond hair, the angelic features, the exquisite beauty. He was dressed in shirt and breeches, much like the first time I encountered him, except that this time the breeches were black leather and the shirt was a shimmering green that seemed to catch the light and toss it back into the air. Trepidation stabbed through me as I sat up. “Rhyzkahl. This is another dream, right?”
He smiled brilliantly. “Can you not tell?” He stepped closer and then dropped fluidly to one knee, reaching and stroking the back of his fingers across my cheek, sending a hot thrill of sensation through me. “Do I feel like a dream?”
My breath shuddered in my chest. “You … you felt real the last time, but that was only a dream.”
His eyes flashed in amusement. “Was it? Perhaps that was real and everything after has been a dream.” He leaned into me, breathing against my neck. “The line blurs, does it not?”
I pulled back. “Don’t fuck with me like that,” I said. “I didn’t summon you, so this must be a dream. You’re not really here.”
“Does it matter if I am here or not?” His voice was soft and silky. “You still can find pleasure from my touch.” “Pleasure isn’t everything.”
He sat back slowly, regarding me. “An existence without pleasure would be difficult to bear.”
I found myself smiling. “True enough. Perhaps I should have said that sexual pleasure isn’t everything.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment of my point. “There are infinite pleasures in this existence.” He stroked a finger along my jawline. “I would share many such experiences with you, if you would allow me.”
I took a careful breath. “If I call you to me.”
“Yes. There is little that can be done in this dream state.”
But I knew now what such a call entailed. I struggled to change the subject quickly, before he could press me further. “Actually, there is something you might be able to help me with.”
One perfect eyebrow arched silkily. “Go on.”
I felt suddenly giddy. “I was going to do a summoning tonight—of a low-level demon. But since that didn’t work out, maybe you could share a measure of your knowledge with me?”
He laughed. “I have much knowledge, my darling Kara. What could you possibly desire to know?”
“I saw some runes today on a body, and I was wondering if you could tell me what they are.” I watched him carefully.
He sat gracefully on the floor, with one knee up and an arm draped across it. “I am intrigued, dear one. Tell me more.”
I leaned forward. “They were on the body of a young woman. She’d been tortured and murdered, and I could see arcane traces that had been left behind.”
Rhyzkahl tsked softly, shaking his head. “Such a pity.”
I looked at him sharply, oddly jarred by the tone of his response. His expression showed the proper sympathy, but his voice had been utterly devoid of it. “Yes. It is,” I said after several heartbeats. “She suffered an agonizing death, and I’m trying to find out who did it. So would you please look at these runes for me?”
His blue eyes glittered. “Of course, dear one. Run and get them for me.”