Mark of the Demon

Not.

I sighed and popped another VHS tape into the VCR and settled back onto my bed, hitting the play button on the remote. They never showed this stuff on TV, the endless hours of searching through surveillance video on the mere hope that maybe possibly hopefully some glimpse of something that might occasionally point the investigator to a lead could be found. The day after breaking into the morgue with Tessa, I’d gone to every business and convenience store and gas station within a mile of either crime scene and collected surveillance videos for the times between sundown and a few hours after the bodies were discovered.

Then I’d brought the box of videotapes home, settled in, and watched. And watched. Watched until my eyes crossed, searching for anything that could help, any consistencies between the time frames surrounding the two murders. Hoping to see someone walk into one of the gas stations wearing a T-shirt that proclaimed, I AM THE SYMBOL MAN!

I scrubbed at my eyes. I’d been at this for nearly a week. I’d seen seventeen instances of shoplifting, four instances of employee theft, nine drug deals, twenty-one gas drive-offs, and one instance of a couple having sex by the beer cooler, but nothing at all that leaped out as being relevant to the murders.

I finally turned off the TV and flopped back onto my pillows, looking up at the shifting shadows cast by the waning moon filtering through the trees. I hated to think that these murders were unsolvable. This killer had to have slipped up somewhere, left some clue. Or maybe he had, and I was just missing it? With zero leads, I knew that I wouldn’t be allowed to keep working this case exclusively forever. I was spinning my wheels chasing down nebulous possibilities, while others were picking up the slack with my other cases—the assaults and robberies that continued despite the Symbol Man. Beaulac’s police force wasn’t large enough to have detectives dedicated solely to homicides, and I knew that there was resentment simmering among other detectives about the shift in caseload. Boudreaux and Pellini had made it crystal clear that they weren’t content with the fact that I’d snagged a primo case.

I sighed and pushed the pillow into a more comfortable position. Of course, I still had the arcane angle to pursue. But I’d feel a lot more comfortable performing another summoning if I had even the slightest idea of what had gone wrong with the Rysehl summoning. “I screwed up,” I said aloud, hating the sound of it. It still felt terribly jarring. I wasn’t an anal perfectionist, and I’d certainly made mistakes in summonings in the past, but I’d always known what the mistake was. What if I summoned again and accidentally pulled another powerful creature through—one who was perfectly fine with killing me in spectacular fashion instead of merely fucking my brains out?

I smiled wryly. Yeah, I’d definitely gotten off light, though the question of why Rhyzkahl had chosen to seduce me instead of kill me would probably haunt me for the rest of my life.

And I’ve angsted over my choice to sleep with him long enough, I decided firmly. Yeah, so I had no love life. Okay, so I’d had the equivalent of a one-night stand. It was over and in the past, and at least the sex had been pretty damn worth it.

With that small aspect of my psyche dealt with, I punched my pillow into a more comfortable position and settled in to sleep.

I woke to a soft sound—a scrape of a shoe on the floor, or the brush of clothing against a piece of furniture. I was instantly wide awake but I didn’t move, kept my breathing as regular as possible, though I could feel my heart slamming in my chest. My gun is in the nightstand drawer, I reminded myself, breathing shallowly and listening for a repetition of the sound that had woken me.

Nothing. Just the sounds of the night, the muted rush of the air conditioner, a faraway car passing on the highway. I waited and listened, counting silently to fifty before reaching out slowly and pulling the drawer open. My disquiet eased tremendously as soon as my hand curled around the rough butt of the gun, and I flicked on the bedside light with one hand while pointing the gun at the foot of the bed.

Rhyzkahl stood at the foot of my bed, still as carved marble and emanating the power and strength that I remembered so vividly from that night a week ago. The ivory fall of his hair rippled in an unfelt wind, and his beautiful eyes bored into mine. He wore robes of pale silk, and a sensuous smile curved his lips.

I stared at him in shock as a frisson of sudden terror coursed through me. He’s here. How is he here? My thoughts careened wildly as I kept the gun pointed at him. It’s not even a full moon. How the fuck can he be here?

He finally spoke.

“You have not called me.”

I blinked, disoriented for a heartbeat as I remembered vague snatches from the dream I’d had at my desk. “Wh-what? Call you? What are you talking about?”

He moved for the first time, shifting with inhuman grace to sit on the bed beside me. “You have not called me.” His smile turned dazzling.

I looked at the gun in my hand, then slowly lowered it. It wouldn’t do me any good against a Demonic Lord anyway. Shit. I have a Demonic Lord in my bedroom! “You said that already.” I swept a glance throughout the room in a vain hope that I would see something that could explain his presence here. “How can you be here? What the fuck is going on?”

He reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand. “I wished to see you,” he said. “You interest me.”

“So, what—you just popped over to this sphere to look me up?” My voice was a bit shriller than I would have liked, but I figured I was entitled to a small amount of freak-out after waking up to a Demonic Lord in my bedroom.

He laughed, a sound like crystal in water. It delighted me and at the same time sent shivers through me. “Not so simple as that.” His fingers lingered on my chin, brushing my lips ever so lightly. “I am not truly here. I am merely touching your dreams.”

“My … dreams.” I couldn’t decide if that was reassuring or not.

“It is not an easy feat, even for one such as myself.”

I regarded him with narrowed eyes, initial shock and terror giving way to confusion and distrust. “So why are you doing it?”

He tilted his head, a smile playing on his angelic face. “You are not pleased to see me again? You did not enjoy our … tryst?”

I had to privately admit that there was a small portion of me that was pleased to see him again. Even knowing what he was now, I couldn’t deny that he was awfully damn good to look at, and I sure as shit couldn’t deny that our “tryst” had been awfully damn nice. “You didn’t answer my question,” I said instead.

He gave a slight nod. “As I said: You interest me. I have not encountered another like you in centuries. And the brief time we had together was … enjoyable.” Without warning, he slid his hand to the back of my neck and leaned in to kiss me. I didn’t stiffen or resist—I was too surprised to do either, and by the time it occurred to me that I should make some sort of reaction, he had deepened it into a sensuous kiss that promised pleasure and heat and pulse-throbbing passion. After a moment, he released me and pulled back, regarding me with a smile.

“Well, damn,” I breathed shakily. It was sorely tempting to grab him and pull him back for more, but the memory of Tessa’s warning about his nature stayed me. Why is he doing this? There’s just no way he’s this smitten with me. “I, uh … am flattered to know I have that sort of effect on you.” I took a steadying breath. “But please don’t do that again.”

He lifted a silky eyebrow. “You have regrets?”

“I … don’t know,” I said honestly, relaxing a bit now that I knew he wasn’t really in the room with me. I grimaced and pushed my hair back from my face. “The thing is, I don’t usually do that sort of thing. I mean, the casual-sex thing.” I met his eyes. “And if not for the fact that you gave me your word, I’d be worrying that you had somehow compelled me.”

His expression hardened ever so briefly. “I did not break my word. The choice you made was your own.”

I nodded. “I know, and I’m glad that you let me make that choice.”

He stood and folded his arms across his chest, looking down at me. “I wish for you to trust me.”