“This is bullshit!” Roman seethed, rounding on Tracy. “You promised me!”
Tracy held up a hand, still staring at me. “It’s impossible. I had you assessed. There’s no way you can simply stop being a summoner.” He shook his head. “We don’t have a choice. They make sure we become summoners.”
A weird chill ran down my spine. “What are you talking about? Who’s ‘they?’?”
He gave a dry and tortured laugh. “The lords. Come on, now. You haven’t figured this out? If your dad hadn’t died, do you think you’d have ever become a summoner? You wouldn’t have been mentored by your aunt—who conveniently left Japan and returned here in order to raise poor, orphaned you.”
The breath froze in my chest. “My dad was killed by a drunk driver.”
Tracy snorted. He was beginning to recover his composure now. “Right. Have you ever looked at the accident report? I have. He shouldn’t have died in that wreck.”
I swallowed hard. Of course I’d never read the report. Why the hell would I torture myself like that? “Why…why would they do that?”
His eyes grew dark with unshielded agony. I suddenly wondered if the death of his mother had truly been a suicide. “Because without us they have no way to return.”
“Return? What—”
“Fuck this!” Roman snarled, cutting me off. “Show me how to work the goddamn gate, and then these lords can have one more summoner on their payroll.”
“No, shut up, Roman!” I said, eyes on Tracy. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t tell me to shut up, bitch!” Roman shouted. “Tracy, hurry up and make me a goddamn summoner!”
Tracy leveled a glare at him. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t be a summoner.” His hand dropped to his gun, and I had zero doubt that Roman was about to die.
But I’d forgotten that Roman was strong and fast as hell. Before any of us could blink he’d knocked the gun aside and tackled Tracy. Roman wrenched the gun from Tracy’s hand with the accompanying sound of breaking bones, wrenching a scream of pain from Tracy. “Doesn’t matter,” Roman said through gritted teeth. “You are a summoner, and I’m going to get my fucking gate no matter what!” With that he stood, holding Tracy in a bear hug from behind and headed to the diagram.
“No!” I shouted, leaping toward Roman to yank him back from the circle. “It’s active!” I grabbed onto his arm to try to stop him, but I might as well have been a mosquito on an elephant.
Tracy kicked and twisted, but Roman was still one strong son of a bitch. He flung Tracy into the diagram just as the doors burst open behind us. I turned away and ducked as Tracy let out a spiraling scream of horror and agony. The scream abruptly cut off, and I quickly covered my head to shield myself from the spatter of gore as the energies of the gate shredded Tracy as effectively as if Roman had thrown him into a jet engine intake.
A silence fell, broken only by my ragged breathing and the sick, wet plop of stuff I didn’t want to look at. I cautiously looked up as Ryan and Zack ran forward, then got back to my feet, and reluctantly turned to look back at the carnage. The diagram itself looked untouched, but surrounding it was a corona of blood and flesh, no piece bigger than a fingernail. I fought back a surge of nausea, abruptly thankful that there was nothing left in my stomach to throw up. I’d seen grisly scenes before, but this was beyond horrific. I’d never quite grasped just how much gore one human body could make.
Seeking to distract myself, I grimaced down at my coat—now covered with blood and bits of Tracy. Shuddering, I yanked the zipper down and shrugged it off. Not sure if I could bear to wear it again, even if I could get the gore cleaned off. I resisted the urge to run my fingers through my hair. I wasn’t ready to face Tracy-parts mingled with my split ends.
“Take him into custody,” I told Ryan, jerking my chin toward Roman. “I’ll find a way to pin these murders on him if it’s the last fucking thing I do.”
Roman didn’t resist. He too was spattered in gore, and he seemed to be frozen in shock. “You might want to hose him off first,” I added. And me as well. Though a brief assessment seemed to indicate that my coat had taken the worst of it. My poor, beautiful coat. Yes, I’m worrying about my coat. Better than thinking about what just happened.
I started to inspect the coat to see if it was salvageable, but I froze as a tremor shook the floor.
“Kara,” Zack said, standing a few feet from the diagram. “We have a problem.”