Mark of the Demon

I sat bolt upright, sucking my breath in through my teeth. The Symbol Man had tried to summon this past full moon. And he had tried to summon Rhyzkahl. And he had failed.

I began to laugh, knowing there was a trace of hysteria to it. He had failed because I’d been attempting to summon Rysehl, and Rhyzkahl had used my portal to escape. Holy crap, I didn’t fuck up the summoning. The wash of relief that went through me was so great I could feel tears leaking down my cheeks. I hadn’t screwed up. Rhyzkahl had hijacked my portal to save himself from being summoned by someone who had the ability to bind him. Stupid blind happenstance. And that’s why he didn’t slay me or take me, I realized. Even though it hadn’t been my intent, I was still his means of saving himself. Once he realized that I wasn’t the original summoner, his honor wouldn’t allow him to harm me.

And he seduced me because he figured he’d use the opportunity that he’d been presented with. He wanted me to trust him just so that I would later call him to this sphere. That was not as welcome a realization, and I was shocked to realize how much it hurt, even though deep down I’d suspected it. Not desirable, not interesting, just a convenient summoner. I scrubbed at the tears that continued to trickle down my face, choking back the thick knot in my throat. I’d never been pursued, wooed, or seduced before, and it had been nice—so very nice—to believe that there was something about me that attracted that sort of attention. I’d wanted to believe it so badly. Too badly. He would have done the same to whomever the summoner was, I thought, with more than a touch of misery. Not necessarily sex but some manner of seduction, whether it was power, or wealth, or whatever else he could have offered to gain the summoner’s interest.

He had read my needs, my secret aches, and played upon them. Demons were utterly self-serving, and I hadn’t truly accepted just how deeply that ran.

I took a shaking breath, wiping my face one more time. Fine. Whatever. I don’t have time to wallow in self-pity. But at least now I knew how to buy more time to catch the Symbol Man. I guess I’ll be summoning tomorrow. Let’s see if Rhyzkahl can save himself twice.

But this time I wouldn’t trust him any further than I could throw him.

Chapter 26

I went home and took a long hot shower to wash the stench of death away, then forced myself to go to bed at a reasonable hour. I knew that I would need to be rested if I was going to summon. It galled me to basically stop my investigation—especially after the chief’s ultimatum—but rationally I knew that I needed to get some sleep, whether I summoned or not.

But after I crawled into bed I lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, unable to shut off my racing thoughts. It felt almost strange not to have Ryan in the house. I was getting too used to him being around, and that was disturbing too. I liked him, and I wasn’t used to that. He’s just a coworker, a team member. Stop reading too much into it. He’s just paying attention to you because he’s fascinated by the summoning stuff.

Was that all there was to it? Rhyzkahl’s cryptic warning still left me with an uneasy ripple. Not that I had any reason to trust Rhyzkahl … but at the same time he had no reason to lie to me, and his ilk didn’t lie unless it fit into their whole code of honor.

I eventually managed to fall asleep and even slept solidly, with no nighttime visitors and no dreams that I could remember. I woke before my alarm went off at six a.m., which was also about five seconds before my cell phone rang.

I rolled over and snatched it off the nightstand, groaning when I saw that it was the Beaulac PD number. “Detective Gillian,” I said.

“Hey, Gillian.” I recognized the familiar voice of Captain Turnham. “Got some strange news for you.”

“Strange? Or bad?”

“Well … not really sure. I got a call from the chief this morning, asking questions about your task force.”

I sat up, sighing. “Yeah, I know. He thinks I’m in over my head. He told me that I was off the case and that he was assigning Pellini and Crawford to the team, but I wheedled a twenty-four-hour reprieve to prove that I belong on the case.”

“Those weren’t the questions he had.”

I frowned. “What questions, then?”

“Well … mostly questions about Agent Kristoff. Has he been spending a lot of time at your house?”

I could feel my back tightening in anger. “A lot of time? If you two are wanting to know if we’ve been sleeping together, the answer is a) no, and b) not that it’s any of your fucking business. Sir.”

“Gillian, chill.” I heard him exhale. “That’s good to know, but not for the reasons you might think. The chief apparently talked to one of his FBI buddies, and … well, no one at the FBI has heard of Special Agent Ryan Kristoff.”

I could only blink in shock for several seconds. Finally I found my voice. “I’m not sure I understand, Captain. Do you mean no one in the New Orleans office has heard of him? Or do you mean that he’s on a secret task force and so his name is not well known?”

“I mean that the chief did some checking, and there’s no Ryan Kristoff who works for the FBI.”

“Then who the fuck is he?” I practically shrieked.

“That’s what we need to find out.”

I was already off the bed, snatching for jeans and clean underwear. “I’m on my way in. Fuck. Fuck!”

“Stop by the jail first. There was a message at the desk for you about some prisoner that you put a hold on.”

I went cold. “Michelle Cleland?” Shit! I told Ryan about her last night!

“I have no details. Just the message to call or go by the jail when you got the chance.”

I hung up the phone with a terse good-bye and finished dressing as quickly as possible, struggling to control the horrible sick feeling. Ryan wasn’t FBI? Fooled again, I berated myself as I drove at unsafe speeds to the jail. How about, from now on, if someone shows interest in you, just know for a fact that they can’t be trusted and it was all bullshit? At least I hadn’t slept with Ryan. Small comfort there. But I’d thought he was my friend. Was I really that gullible and desperate? Ugh. Don’t answer that. There had to be some other explanation. Had to be. If he wasn’t FBI, then there were very few reasons why he would have attached himself to me. And within that short list of reasons was one that was terrifying. He knows everything about me. Everything!

My thoughts were still in turmoil when I got to the jail. I entered through Booking, flashing my ID to the bored officer at the front desk, then took the stairs to Main Control two at a time.

The rotund sergeant looked up from the row of monitors as I entered, then lifted both hands. “It’s not my fault. I didn’t have a choice.”

“Shit. So Michelle Cleland bonded out?”

Sergeant Mallory shifted awkwardly in his chair. “Umm, no. PR.”

I stared at him, aghast. “She was allowed to be signed out on a personal recognizance? That’s insane!” That meant she hadn’t even been required to put up bond money, just needed to have someone “responsible” sign for her to vouch that she would show up for court. “How?”

Mallory sighed. “You know it’s always a battle with overcrowding here. The chief called and said that the fire marshal was on his ass again and told us to PR anyone under Code Six.”

I sank into a chair. A Code 6 was a repeat or violent offender. Unfortunately, the scenario that Sergeant Mallory referred to was pretty common. To control jail overcrowding, release priority was given to arrestees who weren’t considered a significant danger to society. And, unfortunately, Michelle, who was merely a drug addict and sometime prostitute, wasn’t a danger to society. But she’s in significant danger!

“Fuck. Fuck. All right, did she give an address when she signed out?”

Sergeant Mallory handed me the paperwork. “No address, but we have the name of the person who signed.”

It didn’t register with me at first. Maybe because the name had been on my mind already. But on the third reading it finally sank in.

The name of the person who had signed Michelle out was Ryan Kristoff.

Chapter 27

I didn’t go back to the office. There was no point. Instead, I headed home. Right now all of my focus and energy needed to go into preparing for what was possibly the most important summoning of my life. He was right, I railed, sternly telling myself not to start crying again. Rhyzkahl was right. Ryan was using me. He was too young to be the Symbol Man, but it wasn’t a stretch at all to deduce that Ryan had been working with Peter Cerise, wanting a share of the power that would come with a captive Demonic Lord.

“And he broke my fucking door too,” I grumbled as I entered and locked the back door behind me. Looking down the hall, I had an excellent view of my front door, still barely held in place by a couple of nails. I never had managed to get a sheet of plywood to cover it, but I had plenty of scrap wood out in my shed. I checked the clock in the kitchen. Almost ten a.m., and I had a ton of shit to do to prepare for tonight. First things first. Make sure no one can come in. I pulled open a drawer in the kitchen, removing a hammer and a box of nails. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it would work.

My cell phone rang several times while I was cleaning and preparing. I glanced at the caller ID and listened to the voice mail, and after the third call from the PD with the message to contact my captain I finally relented—partially. I called the dispatcher and asked her to give Captain Turnham the message that I was following up on a big lead and that I was fine but would be out of touch for a few hours. I didn’t want to speak directly to the captain, didn’t want to answer any probing questions about what sort of lead I was following or what I was doing about the Symbol Man or Ryan. There was no way to explain to him that I was doing the only thing I knew to do to stop him. Or at least stop him for now. It’s just buying me more time, I know. Eighteen months to figure out a better plan. I couldn’t even get worked up over the knowledge that I was certainly off the case, and probably out of Investigations as well. Right now the most important thing was to make sure that Rhyzkahl couldn’t be summoned and bound.

I got a call from Tessa, which I ignored as well. I’ll call her right before I summon. I wouldn’t tell her what I planned to do, but at least I would have a chance to talk to her before …

I paused as I sketched the diagram onto the concrete of the basement floor, hand tightening on the chalk. What I was about to attempt was insanely risky—more so than summoning a twelfth-level demon. The magnitude of it was just now sinking in. I was going to summon Rhyzkahl, a Demonic Lord, and I knew I didn’t have the means or power to set any manner of protections that would stand up to him. The only thing I could do was trust in that difficult code of honor, trust that he would spare me because I would—hopefully—again save him from being bound, though this time intentionally instead of accidentally. I couldn’t bind Rhyzkahl or even protect myself arcanely. I could only tell him why I’d summoned him in such an insane way.

But even if I die in the attempt, at least it’ll buy everyone else more time. It wasn’t an easy thought. I’d never wanted to be any sort of martyr, and I desperately hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Protect and serve. Yeah, right. But at least Rhyzkahl wouldn’t be bound by another summoner, and he also wouldn’t be in this sphere unrestrained—which could be even worse.

I shuddered, then forced myself to continue with the diagram, doing my best to lose myself in the tasks of preparations.

I decided that it would be safest to summon the Demonic Lord well before midnight, summoning him before the Symbol Man—and Ryan—could. I heard the hall clock chime nine times as I stood in the basement. Everything was in place. The candles were set out in perfect alignment, the diagram chalked with painstaking precision, the oil and the razor-sharp knife set just beyond the perimeter of the diagram.

I returned upstairs. Now it was time for the mundane preparations. My will was already on the kitchen table, and I pulled a page out of my notebook to begin a letter to my aunt. Of all the people in the world, she was the one who needed to know what I had done and why and who the killers were. Tessa wasn’t a police officer, but I knew that if I didn’t survive this summoning, Tessa would be the next best to try to stop them.

I finished the letter and folded it into an envelope, hand trembling as I sealed it and wrote Tessa’s name on the outside, too aware that the letter was painfully terse. This is going to be fine. I’m still going to be preventing the binding, just like last time. Only difference is that this time I’m aware of it. I slid the envelope underneath the copy of my will, set a mug on top of both, then went to the next step in my preparations.

I turned the water in the shower as hot as it would go, forcing myself to stand under the near-scalding water as I ran through the mental exercises that were meant to calm and aid focus. I wasn’t sure just how much focus I’d managed by the time the hot water ran out, but at least my hands weren’t shaking as much anymore.

Only one thing left to do. The phone call to Tessa. I wasn’t about to tell Tessa the specifics over the phone, but I at least wanted to …

I want to say good-bye, I realized. Just in case. I understood so much more about my aunt now. Understood why she was acerbic and difficult, understood why she rode me so hard. At least I could tell her that I hadn’t screwed up the summoning. She’d probably viewed that as much her failure as mine.

The symbol for the voice mailbox was lit. I hadn’t realized that she’d left a message when she called earlier. I quickly dialed the mailbox to play it back, hoping that she hadn’t called to tell me she was going to be away from her phone for a while. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">