Obviously, they all knew something was wrong with this meeting; the eight of them wouldn’t be here otherwise. But this was a wrongness that didn’t quite fall in with the kind of wrong they were expecting. Something else was going on, something that seethed beneath the surface of the room’s energy, like a great dark snake stalking its prey. If she listened closely to the sound waves beneath the buzz, she swore she could hear it hiss.
She laid her hand on Dag’s leg, trying to think of what to tell him, how to describe the sensation crawling under her skin, but he had his gaze focused on the stage like most of the others in the auditorium. She wanted to shout to get his attention, but she couldn’t even manage a whisper. It was like her voice had become locked inside her and she couldn’t find a key.
“And so without further ado, ladies and gentlemen,” the man at the podium intoned, “it is my pleasure to introduce the organizer of this event, the inspiration for good works around the globe, and today’s keynote speaker, Mr. Richard Foye-Carver.”
The audience stood to applaud. The move should have made it impossible for supershort Kylie to even see the stage, let alone the tall, fit man currently striding across it, one arm lifted to wave to the crowd. Providence, though, had carved a path through the bodies, leaving her a perfect sight line to the man of the hour.
She could see every detail as if she occupied a much closer spot than her seat at the back of the room. She saw his perfectly coiffed, elegantly graying hair and his expertly tailored suit. She saw the healthy tan of his skin and the flashing white of his disarming smile. She even saw the way he leaned down to shake hands with a few attendees who approached the stage for the chance to bask in the fame and glory that surrounded his noble acts.
She saw all of that, but beneath it, she saw something else.
As if she viewed a data construct or a hidden code, Kylie stared at the man with a hazy green veil before her eyes. The filter seemed to blur his outer appearance, make it vaguely translucent, and show her an image of what rested inside.
The sight made her want to scream.
Her hand flew to her mouth, instinctively protecting against the quick rise of nausea. Bile choked her and her mouth flooded with sour saliva as the thing seethed and writhed beneath the skin of the man. She had no words to describe it, nothing to compare it to, no frame of reference for the mass of rotten, festering evil that hid within the photogenic masculine exterior. She couldn’t name it, but she knew instinctively what it wasn’t.
It wasn’t human, and it wasn’t something they had been prepared to face.
Clinging to Dag’s hand, she used every bit of strength she could muster to pull him down to her. Of course, she couldn’t force a Guardian to move, so she had to wait until he turned his attention toward her and leaned in close, a clear mask of concern molding his features.
“What is it?”
Kylie lifted a hand and pointed to the stage.
“Demon.”
Chapter Eighteen
Got zol af im onshikn fun di tsen makes di beste.
God should visit on him the best of the Ten Plagues.
Dag’s first reaction was denial, simple and instantaneous. He and his brothers had discussed the Seven at length. They knew Uhlthor had been freed but lacked the strength to take his full form, and they knew the goal of this action by the Order was to free Shaab-Na from its prison. Neither of them could have entered this room without the power of a major sacrifice.
And Kylie did not know what a real Demon was. She had thought the lowly drude qualified, when it was barely more than an unthinking insect compared to the evil of the Seven. She could not know the reality of a Demon.
Yet she stared at the stage as if the gate to hell itself had opened before her. Her skin had paled to a hue so white, he feared she might faint at any moment. She shook from head to toe, fine tremors he didn’t believe she even noticed, and her dark eyes had gone stark and wide, her pupils so dilated he could barely see the chocolate brown of her irises.
She looked as if she had seen …
A Demon.
Scowling, he turned his gaze toward the front of the room and opened his sight to the man on the stage.
“Nazgahchuhl.”
He spat the name and looked immediately to his brothers. This event they had not prepared for. Another of the Seven had been freed from his prison and had hid among the humans while awaiting his moment to strike. The Corruptor had been using the body of the Hierophant to walk among humanity and the Guardians had not seen the truth.
Shame and rage flooded through him. He and his brothers had failed to respond to a Demon’s rising, had allowed one of the Seven to gather its supporters and arrange this complex and massive strike against humanity. And now his own mate was in danger.
At the center of the stage, the Demon in the man’s body spread his arms to encompass the entire audience and raised his voice to allow every word to reverberate through the sound system. “Thank you, friends, for the enthusiasm of your welcome, and allow me also to thank each and every one of you here in this room for the enormous contribution you are about to make to the future of this world.”
Dag tensed, ready to leap forward, when the lights blinked out and everything descended into hell.
*