Mark of the Demon

Tessa dried her hands briskly. “That’s what he said. Call him. Just call him, with intent. Saying his name like normal isn’t going to do it, which is a damn good thing, the way you’ve been throwing it around.” There was a touch of asperity in her voice, which was a curious relief. She was getting back to her regular self. “But he’s set some sort of connection to you now. I’ve heard of these things before, but only in the ancient literature.” She busied herself with hanging the towel back on its rack for a few seconds. “The only problem is, if you call him, you still don’t have any control over him. All that does is let him through.” She turned and gave me a look of deathly seriousness. “He’d be here in this sphere without restraint, without terms, without any bonds of honor controlling his actions. Don’t you even think of calling him, Kara.”

“I’m not!” I held up my hands. “Do you think I’m a moron?”

Tessa frowned at me. “Gimme a break, Kara. Of course I don’t. I just want to be sure you understand the danger.”

“I’m not going to call him,” I repeated with a sigh.

Tessa gave a short nod. “Good to hear, because the last thing this place needs is an unrestrained Rhyzkahl seeking to expand his power base. That would be worse than a Rhyzkahl summoned and controlled by an unscrupulous summoner.”

I frowned. “Wait. So he can be summoned—and controlled?”

Tessa plopped back onto the stool. “It’s possible, I suppose. But the amount of power and preparation needed would be incredible.”

An icky feeling began to form in the back of my head. But now wasn’t the time to tease it out and examine it. Instead, I picked up my cup and took it to the sink.

“Hey, do you think I could borrow that graphic novel that you showed me the other day?” I said as I washed and dried the cup. “I’m curious to see what kind of story it is.” And I wanted to see more of what this Greg person was like.

Tessa smiled, obviously relieved by the change in subject. “Sure thing, sweetling. I’ll go get them.”

Them? I didn’t have too much time to think on that, because in about ten seconds Tessa was back, with a stack of what looked like a dozen volumes.

“All right, this is the entire series, and please do take care of them because these are in good condition. That means don’t crack the spine, don’t spill anything on them, and don’t read them in the bathtub!”

I took the stack of comics from my aunt, resisting the urge to scowl. So much for my bathtub reading plans. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”

My aunt gave me a brisk nod. “You’ll love them.”

I sure hoped so, because I had a nagging feeling that these were somehow important. “I’ll let you know, Aunt Tessa. Okay, gotta go!” I said, hefting the stack of graphic novels and heading toward the door.

It wasn’t until I got to my car that I took a look at the cover of the one on top. The Shattered Realm Saga, Vol. 1—Visits and Dreams. And that’s when I realized that I’d neglected to tell my aunt about the dream visit. I turned around to go back inside, then stopped at a trill from my pager. Shifting the books in my hand, I pulled the pager off my belt clip and read the message with a rising feeling of dread. Another body. A woman, found in an alley behind the outlet shopping center.

Telling my aunt about the dream visit was going to have to wait.

CHAPTER 12

Another victim. I dug my fingers into the cushioning on the steering wheel as I drove, the sick feeling increasing. That made three murders in less than two weeks. They’d never been this close together before. He’s building up to something, and it’s going to be soon. Why take the risk otherwise? The previous murders had been at the rate of one every two to three months, not more than one a week.

But with three in two weeks, the heat was definitely going to rise on this shit.

I wonder if I’ll be allowed to stay on the case? A small pang of dismay went through me at the thought of being removed, but I knew that with three murders it was pretty likely, considering my inexperience. I’d understand, though I sure as hell wouldn’t be happy about it. Think positive; maybe they’ll form a task force now. I suddenly realized that my feelings on that were mixed. It would be terrific to get more manpower and more resources, but how the hell was I going to explain the arcane aspects of the case without looking like a complete nutjob? Plus, would I have to work with Agent Obnoxious?

I sighed. I was being stupid. I needed all the help I could get. And I also had to accept that there was a very real chance I’d get pulled off the case completely so it could be handled by someone with more experience. Which was pretty much anybody in Investigations.

I pulled up to the mouth of the alley that ran behind the stores, joining the throng of other police vehicles. The area where the body had been found was known as the outlet mall, but that was a poor description for what it was now. Ten years ago it had been an outlet mall, but it had lasted as such for less than a year, the victim of a very poor layout, a lousy location, and greedy local politicians. In its second year, the stores had begun to pull out in desperate acts of self-preservation. Eventually it was a run-down strip of empty storefronts, interrupted occasionally by a struggling entrepreneur who had been lured in by the low rent. Unfortunately, even the folks who tried to tough it out ended up going out of business, since the rest of the mall was so trashy no one wanted to go there to shop, simply out of fear for the safety of themselves and their vehicles.

I walked past the other cars, taking stock of the vicinity before getting to the actual scene. About half a dozen battered yellow Dumpsters were spaced along the alley, each surrounded by scattered trash that had missed its mark. I didn’t think that the Dumpsters had been emptied in several months, and the aroma of old garbage clung to the area like mildew in a shower. There was enough room to drive a car down the alley, but not many people would be willing to risk their cars passing over all of the debris back here.

I also knew I wouldn’t be looking through any surveillance video of this scene. Even though there were a few cameras left on the corners of buildings in places where people couldn’t get to them and steal them, there hadn’t been film in them in many years.

I looked ahead and saw my captain talking to three men by the crime-scene tape that had been stretched across a section of the alley. My steps slowed. I’d been right; I was finally getting some help. Be careful what you wish for, right? I thought with a grimace. But hopefully this means I’ll be staying on the case. After all, I’d been paged to report to the scene. That had to be a good sign.

Special Agent Kristoff, aka Obnoxious, was one of the men speaking to Captain Turnham. Another of the men was much shorter than Kristoff, and when he turned I bit back a groan. Detective James Harris was with the St. Long Parish Sheriff’s Office, a supercilious man who was very full of his own importance and thus difficult to get along with. A couple of inches shorter than me, he had a thick build with a paunch that stretched his dress shirts to their limits and a fleshy, ruddy face that tended to get even redder whenever he was annoyed. Unfortunately, he was fairly good at his job, had experience with ritual and cult murders, and was no doubt more than eager to get on a task force for this sort of case.

I didn’t recognize the third man—though judging by his suit and his haircut, I figured him for a Fed as well. He looked like he was barely eighteen, with short blond hair and a healthy tan that made him look more like a surfer. I knew he had to be older to be an agent, but I did have to wonder just how long he’d been with the bureau.

“Oh, yay, now everybody gets to think I’m a nutjob,” I muttered, resisting the urge to go back to my car and do a quick makeup check. Since I’d visited Tessa on my way to work, I was at least dressed like a detective today, in a red tailored shirt with dark-blue dress slacks and matching jacket. I’d even remembered to accessorize, which in my world meant that I’d stuck little pearl stud earrings into the holes in my earlobes.

Captain Turnham gave me a nod as I approached. “Gentlemen, this is Detective Kara Gillian. She’s been the primary on these cases. And,” he said with a quick glance at me, “as I said before, I intend to keep her on as the detective in charge.”

I struggled to keep the professional smile on my face. My captain had been serious about having a rookie detective on the lead! Unbelievable. And I had the distinct impression that there’d been some discussion about this