Mark of the Demon

had this other demon to take care of this body? I thought you said that it was almost impossible to summon and hold two demons?” Ryan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I did. It is. Crap. There must be another explanation.” There was one, but it was one that deepened the feeling of dread within me.

“I don’t like the look on your face, Detective,” Ryan said.

“Damn. It’s possible—possible—that he has formally allied with the higher-level demon, which would mean it wouldn’t require the same level of effort to summon.”

Kind of like what you could have with Rhyzkahl, the thought crept in. But, no, this was different. This was an indication of a degree of cooperation that was rarely seen between summoners and the beings they summoned. The thought of a demon and a summoner working together to summon and control a Demonic Lord spoke of conflicts that ranged far beyond this sphere. In fact, having a higher demon as an ally would probably be the only way a summoner could ever hope to succeed in summoning and binding a Demonic Lord.

“Okay, this is starting to feel really, really bad,” I said, as I stepped away from the body.

“Care to share?” Ryan said. “I mean, besides the obvious stuff that even I can figure out.”

Harris chose that moment to wonder what the three of us were up to. He huffed up to us, shirt straining.

“I’ll take care of this,” Zack murmured. “Ryan can fill me in later.”

I gave him a look of relief as he neatly intercepted Harris and deftly guided him away from us. I could hear him asking the rotund detective about the traffic that usually traveled the highway and then could hear Harris eagerly launching into a story about drug trafficking and bike gangs.

Damn. Talk about taking one for the team! I motioned with my head for Ryan to follow, walking well away from the others to a point near where the ground turned soft and the swamp began. “If he’s allied with a demon,” I said, speaking low and quickly, “it’s almost definitely a syraza or a reyza—eleventh- or twelfth-level demons—since the lowers don’t have enough control or power to be capable of a worthwhile alliance. And the only reason one would ally with a human, even a summoner, would be if it was worth his while. If he was going to get something out of it.” I frowned and stuffed my hands down into my pockets. “In every summoning, a summoner has to give the summoned creature something in return. It’s totally a power struggle, and the creature is bound, but only a small portion of that binding is arcane in nature. It’s all about the honor. During the summoning, after the initial binding, the summoner offers the demon something that would be considered valuable to the demon—enough to satisfy their bruised honor—and what it is depends on the demon.”

“What sort of something are we talking about?”

“Like I said, it depends on the demon. Some of the smaller ones like chocolate or beer. Others like books. Some want information. Others merely want the summoner to spill his or her blood to show their commitment to the summoning. It depends on the demon.”

“Okay,” Ryan drawled. “And what could our Symbol Man have offered this demon in exchange for his help?”

I dragged a hand through my hair. “Power, of some sort. Certainly not here in this sphere, because that would be worthless to a demon below the level of a lord, but most likely a chance at power in the sphere of the demons.”

“Ah. Sort of like the Klingon method of promotion.”

I stared at him blankly. “The what?”

Ryan’s eyes went wide. “You can’t be serious. As over the edge as you are, you don’t watch Star Trek?”

I scowled. “I’m not over the edge, and I do so watch Star Trek. Did. A couple of times.”

Ryan rolled his eyes dramatically. “And here I thought you were my perfect match.” He grinned at me while I struggled for a response. “The Klingon method of promotion,” he continued, “is where you kill your superior to get their job.”

“Oh. Right.” Funny. He didn’t look like a nerd. “Okay, yes, that might be it in a way, though a reyza can’t actually become a lord. It would be like a panther trying to become a tiger. But it could be one of the lord’s generals. Or, more likely, it’s a rival general working for his own lord to bring down this other lord. My aunt tells me that the power struggles in that sphere are constant and devious.”

Ryan frowned. “Is there a way to find out who the demon is?”

I started to tell him that there wasn’t, then paused. There was a way, but, holy shit, it was risky.

“Kara? What is it?”

“Well,” I said, “I can’t tell, but another higher demon—or a more powerful being than that—could probably read the traces on the body and be able to identify it.” I thought about Rhyzkahl’s statement about his mark on me.

“So you could summon a demon and ask it?”

“Er, well, not exactly.” I glanced up at the sky, even though I knew perfectly well that the moon was still a few days away from full. “Higher demons almost always need to be summoned on a full moon, plus there would be the problem of having the body nearby so that it could be examined. That’s in addition to the basic problem of being able to summon and control a higher demon in the first place.”

“Well, that sucks.”

“Actually … I think I know a way to do it.” I bit my lip. “I mean, I can’t summon a reyza, but I might be able to get some information.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Call your Demonic Lord?”

“Not call him,” I said. “I’m not that foolish. But, um, maybe I can get him to come to my dreams again.”

“You do realize you’re talking about taking a nap in the same room as the body?” he pointed out.

I grimaced. Maybe there was another way?

“How do you know it will work?” Ryan asked.

“I don’t. But I’ve asked him questions before. That’s how I found out about the runes on the other victim.”

“Okay, so other than napping in a morgue, it’s pretty risk-free, right? There’s not much he can do to you in your dreams that you can’t just wake up from.”

“Right. Sure,” I said in what I hoped was a convincing manner. Only problem was, it wasn’t true. Promises could be made, debts could be earned, patronages formed. Summoners had to abide by the same code that the demons were held to, or else they could not be trusted. Dreams might not be physical, but they still held great peril. Well, not physical most of the time, I thought as I flexed my healed shoulder.

“I think,” I continued after a moment, “that I might not have to be in the same room as the body if I’m trying to speak to the lord in my dreams.”

“That would make things a hell of a lot easier,” Ryan said dryly.

I gave a halfhearted shrug as I watched the sheriff’s office crimes-scene techs swarm over the area, taking measurements and photographing the body and its surroundings. It would be interesting to see what explanation was put forward for the tracks by the body.

“Well, I’m not certain it’ll work,” I said, “but I’m going to have to sleep at some point anyway, and he made a comment last time about being in control of the reality …”

“So he can whiz you there dream-speed or something.”

“I guess. I hope.” I rubbed at my eyes. “There’s still so much I don’t know. I feel like I’m fumbling along most of the time.”

He gripped me by my shoulders and turned me toward him. “Hey, don’t fail me now. You’ve brought us this far.”

I mustered a wan smile. “I won’t fail you. We’re close. I know it.”

“The killer is resorting to taunting you, which means he’s definitely going to slip up soon.”