We fell silent for the remainder of the drive. After I pulled up in front of the house and killed the engine, I announced to everyone that we’d unload the van and trailer later. Amazingly, no one argued. Hell, my property was warded to the teeth. No one was going to steal the stuff.
Idris jogged inside to enlist Pellini’s help in clearing space for when we finally got around to unloading the boxes. Too much energy, that one. Eilahn climbed off her motorcycle and trudged straight to her nest. Seretis stepped out of the pickup then grabbed at the door to steady himself.
Bryce rushed to his side. “Slow your roll, dammit,” he said to the pale and shaking lord, voice gruff with affection.
“He’s been here too long?” I asked with worry.
“He pushed it,” Bryce said, “but he needs to recharge on the nexus before he goes back.”
“Got it,” I said. “Anomalies and grouchy lords on the other side of the valve.”
Seretis straightened as he drew reserves from proximity to the nexus. “Grouchy and obstinate,” he said, mouth twitching into a smile, “and unlikely to reform.” He hooked one arm through Bryce’s then slipped his other through mine. A casual, friendly gesture, but it was clear he needed the added support.
“How bad are things in the demon realm right now?” I asked as we made our way to the backyard.
He sobered. “The flows are in chaos and cause tremors in every realm. Anomalies grow more frequent and more bizarre.” A shudder passed through him that I noticed only because of his arm against mine. “Fire rain deforested the southern reaches of Elofir’s realm—the first occurrence of such in two centuries. There is little rest for qaztahl or demahnk.”
My guilt spiked, and I winced. “I took you away for hours to pull down wards.”
Seretis gave my arm a squeeze. “Not against my will. The discoveries will no doubt prove advantageous in the long run.”
Bryce disengaged from Seretis. “Lemme get some blankets to cushion our butts on the concrete,” he said then detoured to the laundry room while Seretis and I continued to the nexus.
“What of Mzatal?” I asked.
Seretis’s steps faltered and recovered. “He is our driving force. None of us can match his . . . focus.” Yet he paled as he spoke, and his eyes grew wary.
I steadied him as we stepped up onto the nexus. “You don’t sound happy about that.”
“Mzatal does what he must,” he said and passed a hand over his face. “None dare shirk responsibilities in attending the flows.”
“It must be a lot harder now with him closed off,” I said with a wince.
Seretis slipped his arm from mine. “Closed?” He let out a single humorless laugh, harsh and laden with foreboding. “No, Mzatal has not closed.”
“But even before McDunn diminished me I could barely feel him,” I said in confusion. “He’d walled off except for a pinprick.”
Seretis tightened his hands to fists and lowered his head. His aura expanded as if he instinctively raised defenses, like a cat fluffing up at the bark of a dog. “A pinprick remains, and thus he is open yet.” Seretis spoke, words heavy and dark, bearing the weight of millennia of experience. “Mzatal commands resolve enough to thrust an entire sun through the span of a single hair. No, Kara Gillian, you have never known him fully closed and merged with his essence blade.” He opened his hands slowly, as if it took great force of will. “None can match Mzatal when he is thus. Formidable. Ruthless. Utterly focused.”
I tried to comprehend a fully closed Mzatal. “He had his blade at the plantation battle.” I paused. “Paul Ortiz almost died there.”
Seretis lifted his head, nodded gravely. “He put aside Khatur in the wake of Szerain’s exile. Though he reclaimed it to counter Rhyzkahl’s machinations against you, he has yet to embrace it fully again. Thus he walks a treacherous line between fury and control, distraction and focus.”
Dread settled into a sick coil in my chest. “As long as Khatur exists, Mzatal can’t be free.”
Seretis met my eyes. “When he created the essence blades, he wed his fate to them. A terrible choice.”
The coil tightened. “And now he can’t afford to set aside the blade even if he wanted to. Not with the Mraztur craziness and the demon realm falling apart. He needs the power and focus. The world needs it.”
“It is a wretched truth, Kara Gillian,” he said. “I cannot deny I cherished the respite of the past decade and a half when Khatur lay dormant.” His aura resolved to its normal level, and his voice carried a wistful nostalgia. “This last year in particular as he opened more with Idris, and with you.”
“He’s opened more with you, too,” I said.
One side of his mouth lifted. “And with Elofir as well. A welcome echo of times long past. It has been . . .” Seretis angled his head as he searched for the appropriate word. “Nice,” he finished.