Touch of the Demon

skills suck the sweat from a dead dog’s balls.” I clenched my hands, true fear of mind manipulation thrashing beneath the anger. “Don’t you dare fuck with my head. Don’t you fucking dare.”

“I do what I must,” was his infuriating—and terrifying—reply as he began to move around the pattern and behind me. “Proper training and perspective are crucial.”

His words dropped like acid into my belly. There was nothing to stop him from stripping my will and personality, and I realized I was far more terrified of that than of dying. “Don’t,” I said, disheartened to find myself begging. “Please don’t take my mind from me.”

I felt his presence close in on me from behind and let out a gasp as he took my head between his hands in a disturbing echo of when he’d been on the verge of snapping my neck. “It frightens you to your core,” he murmured. “Why?”

I fought to push down the terror with anger. “Because I like me,” I snapped. “Because I have goals and dreams, and if I’m not me then I won’t ever get there.” I swallowed hard. “I won’t know to…push and strive and learn. If I’m not me I won’t fall in love or help others, and I won’t have my friends and Tessa anymore…and all that shit matters to me and other people. I matter!”

He held my head for a heartbeat more. “Then never lose yourself,” he said before releasing me and stepping back.

I took several deep breaths, more than a little confused by his mandate, though utterly determined to do just that. I tried to think of some possible way to resist, but my options were pretty damn scant.

Idris entered, silky white shirt stuck to his body with sweat. He looked at me, then his eyes skittered away to Mzatal. “The wards are laid, my lord.”

Mzatal moved around in front of me again. “Well done,” he told Idris. “I will assess them. While I do so, lay a hakihn perimeter here, and I will begin the mark removal upon my return.” Clasping his hands behind his back, he strode out, leaving me alone with Idris.

I kept my eyes hard on him as he began to work. “Mzatal’s going to hurt me,” I said, keeping my voice as even as possible. “You know that, right?”

Idris paled and shook his head. “I…No. I mean…” He trailed off.

My focus remained locked on him. “Nah, it’s cool,” I said with a casual shrug I sure as shit didn’t feel. “You’re just following orders. I get it.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I’m sorry. I gotta…” He traced a sigil, then dispersed it as it shimmered unevenly, clearly wrong. “He’s…well.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know enough about what’s going on.”

I wanted to flay him for that, lay him open with a verbal barrage about taking some personal responsibility. But I didn’t. I knew it wouldn’t make a difference in the end. It was obvious he was already torn and feeling guilty, yet he still continued to work the perimeter. I did take a not-insignificant amount of pleasure in the fact that every third sigil had to be dispersed and reset. Good. At least I was getting to him.

“Maybe it won’t hurt,” Idris offered. “I mean, the diagram looks like it’s more for support and stabilization than anything else.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night,” I replied calmly, pleased when he jerked and had to redo yet another sigil. I stood still with my eyes half-closed as I tried to find some sort of gap or weakness in the diagram. It didn’t help that I didn’t know what most of the sigils meant, or that I was wearing a fucking anti-arcane collar. My stomach churned with frustration. I wanted to be back in the grove, surrounded by that incredible sense of peace.

My breathing slowed as I focused on that memory, and I clung to it as Mzatal returned. His gaze swept the whole of the chamber, floor to ceiling and back down again as he assessed everything. “Idris, you are not finished,” he said. He didn’t raise his voice, yet his tone still cut like a knife.

Idris flushed. I allowed myself to enjoy the small victory.

“I…” Idris’s voice shook, but then he straightened, misery etched on his face as he looked to Mzatal. “I let myself get distracted, my lord.”

Mzatal’s gaze remained on Idris for several heartbeats. For an instant I almost pitied the kid. But only for an instant. As much as he wanted to deny it, he was a part of what was about to happen to me. I continued to focus on deep breaths while I held the memory of the grove firm in my head.

“Step back,” Mzatal said, the intensity of the command palpable. Idris did so, looking more than a little shell- shocked. The lord stepped up to the diagram and finished the perimeter in a matter of seconds, then moved to stand beyond the circle and directly in front of me. “And so we begin.”

My calm wavered at his words. I sunk deeper in the memory of the grove while I kept my eyes on Mzatal. All I want is a way to keep him from hurting me. Is that too much to ask for?

Apparently so. Mzatal stepped into the diagram and lifted a hand to wrap potency around my right wrist, trapping it to my side. With a sweep of his other hand, he ignited the diagram around us in shimmering beauty that belied its darker purpose. He reached and grasped my left wrist in an uncompromising grip and pulled my arm toward him. Fear rose again, and I clung to the feel of the grove. Its touch enveloped me in comfortable, tangible presence, like a blanket fresh out of the dryer on a frigid day.

He placed a hand over my left forearm, over the mark. I watched warily as he silently assessed it. After a moment he lifted his eyes to mine, a seething mix of anger and disgust backing his gaze. “Tell me how this was made,” he said, voice carrying an echo of strain.

I didn’t want to tell him a damn thing, but I also knew that he could easily delve and strip the memory out of me if he so desired.

“I was working a case,” I told him. “A series of murders that didn’t look like murders. I could tell that the essences of the victims were gone. My partner, Ryan, and I found her—the woman who was doing it. But she got the jump on us and managed to get hold of Ryan.” I paused, swallowed as the memory of those awful few minutes rose. “She threatened to consume his essence if I didn’t open a portal and allow her to have more hriss.” I took a deep breath and touched the warm-blanket presence for calm.

“I tricked her and summoned Rhyzkahl,” I continued. “I told him that if he stopped her and saved Ryan, I’d agree to be his summoner.” I searched Mzatal’s face for some sort of reaction, but it remained impassive. “We agreed to terms: three years of service, I’d summon him once a month, and he’d answer two questions for me each time. He pulled a knife and cut my arm and his, then pressed them together and said it was done.” I exhaled and looked down at the delicately intricate arcane tracings that marked my forearm. Was that only a few months ago? It seemed like forever.

Mzatal shook his head slowly as though trying to process what I said. “A purported mark agreement, under duress, for only three years duration, and an exchange of two questions in return for being summoned to Earth monthly.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.

I scowled and shrugged. “It worked okay for me. And, anyway, what was I supposed to do? It was that or leave Ryan to have his essence consumed.”

Mzatal’s mouth tightened as he lifted one hand and touched my temple. “The blade he used—I need to see it.”

I debated resisting, but it was too late. Just his suggestion brought the memory to the surface.

A wicked blade shimmers with an oily blue sheen. Its hilt is covered in spikes that thrust between Rhyzkahl’s fingers. A dark blue jewel glimmers in the pommel, flickering with dim internal light.

“Enough.” He pulled his hand away and shook it as if to rid himself of the feel of the memory. “Rhyzkahl’s essence blade—Xhan—tainted with rakkuhr,” he said, the last word laced with vehemence. He looked down at the mark on my arm, lip curling. “That it was used to forge this increases my urgency a hundredfold.” He met my eyes again. “How did he fulfill the condition of stopping this woman?”

My unease grew. I had no idea why the blade made a difference, but it obviously meant a hell of a lot to Mzatal. I wasn’t thrilled about continuing to feed him information, but I also knew it was that or have him read it from me. “With the same blade,” I said. “He stabbed her in the heart and she turned to dust. He said she was a saarn.”

His grip tightened on my wrist. “This mark will come off, Kara Gillian.”

I gulped at the intensity of his words but managed to narrow my eyes in what grim defiance I could muster. “I’d like to get a second opinion.”