from a sea of wildflowers in the clearing. “What’s that?”
She bared her teeth lightly in a syraza smile. “It is a place very dear to Szerain. One of his focal points. He spent much time there.”
The coil of incessant fear gave way to deep curiosity about Szerain. The memory rose of that one kiss in the last seconds with Ryan before the summoning took me. So much had been said in that kiss. He’d told me he loved me. And I’d told him I loved him. But what did that even mean? It had felt so perfect, so right at that moment.
I found myself walking the path toward the structure without even consciously deciding to do so.
I was vaguely aware that Ilana had slipped her arm from mine to allow me to continue on my own.
If this place was so special to Szerain I really wanted to see it. I
Chapter 5
Unlike the neglected stone of the courtyard, this path glistened in the sunlight, free of debris or traces of dirt as though carefully tended. Thigh-high wildflowers in vibrant shades of blue and rich golden yellow undulated in the gentle breeze, filling the air with an exotic blend of delicate floral and underlying musk. Smiling, I trailed my hands over the flowers on either side as I walked, enjoying the velvety contact with the petals. Small flying creatures that looked like furry hummingbirds on a bad hair day zipped here and there among the flowers with a shooshing whirr.
The honey-colored stone building ahead was about the size of a two car garage, though lofty, with a peaked roof of overlapping green tiles. Enigmatic carved symbols covered all visible wall surfaces like neat graffiti.
I tried to imagine Ryan here, imagine him creating this sanctuary, but didn’t have much success. I mean, I
The path led to three steps and a shadowy open doorway that didn’t look as if it had ever had a door. As I passed through the doorway, I felt the prickle of warding like I was walking through an invisible barrier. Illusory shadows gave way to clear natural light from a skylight, and my arms rippled in gooseflesh from the arcane “charge” that permeated the place, even with the dampening effect of the collar. Humans and demons regarded me from murals, and water burbled in a stone basin atop a waist-high pedestal in the center of the floor.
The only other furnishings were a low, comfortable looking stone and wood chair with sumptuous green cushions, and an exquisitely carved side table. Definitely a one-lord hang out, I decided. Like the pathways outside, no debris in here either, and not a trace of dust. I wondered if there was some sort of arcane warding to keep it like that. If there was, I sure as hell needed it for my house. I stepped in close to the mini-fountain and turned slowly to take in the murals. The multitude of people and demons depicted came from a wide span of time, judging by the variety of hair and clothing styles.
My breath caught. Elinor. Radiant, she stood against a backdrop of leafy green, hands clasped with the youth from the statue—Giovanni. I half expected the sense of deja vu to flare, but no. I frowned, wondering again.
The light shifted as something blocked the doorway, and I glanced back, expecting Ilana or Safar.
It wasn’t either one of them. A big-ass demon loomed in the entry, flexing its four wickedly clawed hands and hiss-buzzing in a nerve-jangling manner. I thought it was probably a
I went still then very slowly raised my hands, palms out in an It’s-cool-I’m-not-doing-anything gesture, but apparently the demon either didn’t understand or didn’t care. I wasn’t really surprised. The savik was only a second-level demon with relatively low intelligence. The ones I’d summoned had been a nightmare to understand or give directions to.
It advanced, opening its mouth in a deep, throbbing growl, giving me an unwelcome view of even more sharp teeth.
“Shit,” I muttered as I backed away. “I don’t want any trouble. I’ll leave, okay?” Where the hell was Ilana? If I shouted for help, would that simply encourage the demon to attack?
The question became moot as the demon made a leaping lunge at me, jaws wide. I let out a shocked yelp as I backpedaled, picturing those many pointy teeth sinking into my flesh. At the moment of impact, the demon’s jaws snapped shut, and it simply barreled into me, sending us both crashing to the floor. I scrambled to remember everything that Eilahn had taught me about fighting and tried to get my feet up and between us so that I could shove the savik off, but the creature was stronger, far more nimble, and fucking
My heart pounded. Where the
“He has touched you,” it said in heavily accented English, far better than any savik I’d ever encountered or heard of. “When? How?”
Going still, I stared up at the demon. “Who?” I asked. I was pretty sure I knew who it meant, but I wanted to be certain before revealing anything.
“Szerain,” it said, speaking the name with a sibilant intensity that echoed from the walls of the shrine and back to us.
Gulping, I nodded. “Yes,” I replied softly. “He’s my friend. I care about him very much.”
The demon gave an odd whine. “When? Where?” It fixed its gold-flecked, luminescent purple eyes on me.
Keeping my eyes on its, I gave my head a small shake. “I don’t dare say it. I don’t want Mzatal to know.”
“He cannot penetrate
“On Earth,” I said. “He doesn’t know himself, but he seems content. He’s…” I groped for a way to explain what an FBI agent was. “He helps protect innocents,” I finally said. “We’re partners in this.”
The savik released my shoulders and head then shifted off to crouch beside me. “Who guards him?”
I pushed myself up to sit. I decided to dub this demon male, since it had that feel about it, though I had no idea if I was even close. “A syraza. At least, I’m pretty sure that’s what he is. He goes by Zack.”
“Zakaar!” He gave a hiss-growl. “Ptarl of Rhyzkahl.” The ‘k’ sound in his words came out as its own guttural click, giving an unusual cadence to his speech. Zah-KH-aar. Rhyzzz-KH-ahl
So Szerain was being guarded by Rhyzkahl’s syraza? “Is that good or bad?” I asked.
The savik snorted. “Good, bad…meaningless. It simply is. Zakaar is of the old line. Zakaar will guard him well.”
“He does,” I said quietly. “He guards him well.” I peered at him. “I am Kara Gillian.”
The demon dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I am Turek, essence-sworn to Szerain.” There was something about the way Turek spoke, a deep resonance in the inflection, that told me he was not only very
“I am honored to meet you, Turek.” I leaned in toward him. “Can you tell me why he was exiled?”