Mark of the Demon

An embarrassed look crossed his face. “Okay, I fucking hate hospitals. I mean, if you’d been shot or something, then, yeah, I’d go in there. But since it’s just stitches, I’m going to be a fucking candyass.”

I had to grin at his honesty. “Fine. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

He smiled in relief. “Deal.”

It ended up being nearly five hours before I finally, wearily, called him to pick me up. First it had been the usual interminable wait to get stitched up, then I had to stay and endure a thorough debriefing by my captain. The only thing that saved me from having to write up my report right then and there was the fact that I’d been hurt and couldn’t type and had been out all night besides, which meant I was able to beg off at least until I could get some sleep.

It was well after nine by the time we made it back to my house. My aunt was gone, thankfully. I did not want to deal with her reaction to the attack. I went into my bedroom and gingerly changed into a clean shirt, then came back out to the kitchen. My shoulder and arm throbbed annoyingly as I sat down at my kitchen table, propping my chin on my good hand.

Ryan frowned at me. “You need to get to bed.”

“I know,” I said with a deep sigh. “I just can’t help but wonder if that phone call was a total setup from the start. I mean, was she really afraid that someone was after her, or had she already been snatched and forced to make the call?”

Ryan began opening kitchen cupboards. “What kind of vibe did you get?”

“It sounded real enough to me at the time. I mean, she sounded terrified, but I didn’t think she was being forced to talk. Then again, when she called I wasn’t even thinking that it might have been a setup.” I couldn’t escape the ache of worry. “He must have already taken her.”

Ryan pulled milk out of the fridge and a pot from beneath the counter. “You don’t know that. She still might be safe. I think that you’re sensitive enough to trust your instincts, and the large majority of the time your instincts are going to steer you right.” He poured the milk into the pot and set it to heat on the stove. “You have plenty of real-world experience and, from what I’ve seen, you’re good at dealing with people.”

“Maybe,” I replied, secretly tickled at the compliments. “But I wonder if I’ve become too caught up in all of this since everything has moved so quickly.” I flexed my hand, feeling the answering dull ache in my stitched shoulder. “I keep feeling as if I’m missing something, and if I just had time to step back a bit, I’d get it. But every time things seem to slow down, something else gets thrown our way.”

Ryan was silent as he slowly stirred the milk. “Don’t forget that you do have other people to rely on,” he said after a moment. He added cocoa powder to the milk and then glanced my way. “I know that it’s hard for you since you’re the one who has the knowledge of the arcane, and it’s even harder for you since you can’t share the fact that you possess that knowledge. But you’re smart enough to tell what you know without blowing your secret identity.” He grinned as he drawled out the last two words.

I stifled a yawn and smiled. “You’re being awfully nice to me. What do you want?”

He laughed. “Hey, I just can’t get over the fact that, after all this time—after all the stories my grandmother told me—I actually got to see a demon tonight.” He lifted the pot from the stove and poured the hot cocoa into two mugs. “Okay, so I would have preferred if it had not been diving at us with claws extended, but once you get over that small detail, it was just darn cool.” His eyes crinkled in amusement as he handed the mug over to me.

I yawned again as I took the mug. “You are too silly.”

“I know. But that’s why you put up with me.”

“Maybe I put up with you because you’re a very effective stalker.” I sipped at the cocoa—perfectly chocolated and warm enough to be perfectly drinkable. He’d known exactly what kind of comfort food I needed. I’d have worried that he could somehow sense my thoughts, except for the fact that chocolate was pretty universal in its comfort factor. It didn’t take a psychic to figure that much out. Though he does seem to know his way around my kitchen fairly well…. I looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. I wanted to think about that a bit more, but my mind just didn’t want to hold on to any coherent thought. No wonder, silly woman. You’ve been awake for only a million hours. So much for getting my sleep cycle back on track.

I dragged my attention back to Ryan when I realized that he was speaking. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Whadja say?”

He gave me a wry smile. “It doesn’t matter. You’re totally wiped and you need to go to bed. Do you have any of the pain pills?”

I fought to keep my eyes open. “Dunno; ’sokay,” I slurred. “Too sleepy to hurt right now.”

I heard him laugh, then he took the mug out of my hand and pulled my good arm over his shoulder, dragging me up out of the chair.

“Come on, Kara,” he said, walking me down the hall to my bedroom.

“I can walk.” I tried to protest, but he didn’t seem to care. He brought me into my bedroom and gently pushed me down onto the bed, then tugged my shoes and socks off and pulled the comforter over me.

“Go to sleep,” he said, or at least that’s what I thought he said, before I lost the battle to fatigue.

“I frightened you. It was not my desire to do so.”

I knew that voice, that unmatchable resonance. The memory of my last encounter with him rose again at his words—that taste of unchecked rage, the overwhelming terror, and the glimpse into how powerful a creature he truly was. He sounded deeply sincere, but after the day I’d had, I wasn’t sure I had it in me right now to deal with him. I pulled the pillow over my head. “It’s cool. It’s fine,” I mumbled through the pillow. “Apology accepted. I’m tired.”

I heard a soft hiss. “You are injured.” His voice took on a darker timbre.

I kept the pillow clamped over my head. “Let me sleep, please?”

“I have never interrupted your sleep. You are injured and exhausted. You should not push yourself to such extremes.”

I couldn’t resist. I lifted the pillow from my head and looked over at him. Rhyzkahl stood beside my bed, azure eyes ancient and dangerous as he gazed down at me, dressed this time in robes of red in a hue so dark it could have been black. The front was intricately stitched with a pattern of runes in shimmering black thread, which caught the light and played tricks with the eyes. The contrast with his near-glowing hair and beautiful features was incredible.

“I have to do what I’m doing or more people are going to die,” I said wearily.

“You do not like these people,” he stated calmly. “You do not care for them, or respect them. You would never wish to invite them to your house, nor would you lend them money. Yet you put yourself in harm’s way for them.”

I sat up. “No one deserves to die that way.”

He sat with ethereal grace on the bed and lifted a silky eyebrow at me. “No one? Are you certain?”

I groaned and squeezed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “Could we not get into a philosophical discussion about my career choice tonight?”

He lifted a hand and stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “Of course, dear one. I would gladly distract you from such banal thoughts.”

I leaned into the caress without realizing it at first. I thought briefly about pulling away, but I had to admit that it felt nice. “Sorry. The last few weeks have been kinda shitty.”

He leaned forward and kissed me lightly. “And I made it no better by allowing you to feel my anger. I regret that I did so.”

I looked up at him. He was beautiful and alluring but, more than that, I realized I was beginning to enjoy his dream visits. He was interesting and intelligent, and he seemed to understand me on a level that I doubted anyone else would ever approach. Even knowing how powerful he was and what he was capable of, I had to admit that I was starting to like him just a little. And though I was aware how naive it was, I couldn’t help but cling to the thin belief that I held some sort of appeal for him as well—an appeal beyond that of simply being a means to gain access to this sphere.

“Can you tell me what it was that made you so angry?” I asked.

“It is a matter that I will deal with,” he said in a tone that made it clear he had no intention of elaborating further. He kissed me again, not so lightly this time. “Do not worry yourself with this,” he murmured against my lips