Touch of the Demon by Diana Rowland
Rhyzkahl caught my chin and tipped my head up. “He is not here, dear one.” He gave a soft smile. “It is so much better this way. He would only use you. I told you.”
I recoiled. “You. You hurt me!” A lasso of potency wrapped around my wrist, but it didn’t come from Rhyzkahl. I looked back in shock to see Mzatal, face angry and hard as he dragged me toward him.
“I am here,” he snarled. “I will retrieve you, and I will hold you.”
I struggled against the lasso. Kadir’s cold laugh echoed through the darkness.
“Pain is ephemeral,” Rhyzkahl said, before me again as he raised the blood-slick blade. “You are eternal. Mine.”
Jesral stepped out of the darkness. “Ours.”
Mzatal bared his teeth and dragged me closer to him.
Dull pain flared in my shoulders as I jerked awake. I stared at the ceiling, domed and painted to look like the night sky, replete with softly winking stars. Not Rhyzkahl’s summoning chamber. A bedroom. Mzatal’s. I squeezed my eyes shut, choking back a sob of both relief and dismay.
Mzatal moved into my view. “Kara. A dream. It was a dream.”
No. It wasn’t a dream. I let out a shuddering breath and focused on him. He was still wearing the same white dress shirt he’d had on before, now patterned with dried blood that I knew was mine. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and I had a feeling he’d woken only an instant before I had.
He poured tunjen juice into a glass, then slipped an arm beneath me to help me sit up, releasing me as soon as I was upright. “Drink. You need much fluid.”
I took it with both hands and drank, wincing at residual pain in my shoulders. After I finished and held out the empty glass, he simply refilled it and pressed it into my hand again.
I stared down at the pale pink juice, struggling to find a way to get everything to make sense. I should have seen Rhyzkahl’s betrayal coming. How could I have been so fucking gullible?
“Drink more,” Mzatal prompted. Numbly, I lifted the glass and drank. “There is more work to be done on your shoulders,” he said as soon as I finished, “then that aspect will be complete.” He took the empty glass and set it on the side table, helped me lie back.
I looked away as he began to work, shame continuing to knot my gut. There’d been a million things I could have done differently. Yet I’d stumbled blindly on and right into Rhyzkahl’s trap.
Mzatal leaned over me, laying one hand on each shoulder. Warmth flowed into me, chasing the pain away. He remained silent while he worked, either because of his own obvious fatigue, or perhaps because he knew that a bunch of talk wasn’t what I needed right now. I turned my head to the right and watched clouds drift in the pale grey of the early morning sky. Fresh air from the open glass doors carried the scent of rain and flowers, and the incessant low roar of the waterfall offered a soothing backdrop of sound.
Eventually, he withdrew his hands. “You have much to consider and process, Kara.”
I scowled. “Ya think?”
He remained unruffled by my snark. “Yes, I do. Helori will take you away from here for a time, to regain yourself.”
A frown tugged at my mouth. “What do you mean, away? And who’s Helori?”
“Helori is a demahnk syraza,” he told me. “Away from here. You need time and space to recover.”
I looked away from him, watched as an ilius coiled its way across the floor to settle in a corner of the room. “Guess I’m not much good to you all busted up inside and out, huh?”
He didn’t argue the point. “Nor are you serving yourself in any way.” He reached and ran his hands three times from my neck down over the points of my shoulders, then straightened and clasped his hands behind his back.
I sat up. Nothing hurt anymore, and that felt strange. “Thank you,” I said. “Where are you sending me?”
He inclined his head to me. “I trust Helori to take you to places appropriate for you to regain something of yourself.”
My eyes drifted to the grove beyond the southern window wall. Home. I could be myself at home, I thought, wishing the grove could take me there. I wish I’d never become a summoner. I sure as hell didn’t want to ever summon again.
“Give it time, Kara,” Mzatal said in a curiously gentle voice. “You have much potential and will remember that when you come to yourself again.”
I stiffened. “Stop reading my mind,” I snarled. “I fucking hate that shit.”
“I cannot,” he replied, moving out to the doorway of the balcony. “As I have noted before, it is as invisibly natural as the beating of my heart.”
“Well, try.” My hands shook, and I clenched them in the sheet. Rhyzkahl read my fears and weaknesses, used them against me ruthlessly. “It’s like a mental assault.”
He exhaled. “As I said, I cannot. Though I give you my word that I will not use it to your detriment.”
His word. Right. I didn’t have a whole lot of trust for lords going on at the moment. Shivering, I pulled the sheet up. My hands brushed my torso, and I froze, felt the blood drain from my face. “There are scars.” My voice shook badly. “They scarred.” None of my other wounds he’d healed had scarred. Why these?
“I did all that could be done,” he said, regret coloring his voice. “The nature of their creation—the taint of rakkuhr—prevented more.”
I flinched. “I have to live with them forever?” I struggled to process the knowledge that I would have a constant reminder of what happened to me.
“Unless a means beyond my understanding comes forward, yes.”
He doesn’t care, I thought, mood suddenly bleak. Why should he? He wanted me as his summoner. Didn’t matter to him whether I was all scarred up. I pulled the sheet back up, shivers going through me in waves. I couldn’t seem to hold a thought in my head for more than a few seconds. I knew I was in deep shock and suffering from all sorts of post-trauma stress, but knowing it and being able to do something about it were two completely different things. I felt utterly fractured, and I didn’t have the faintest idea of how to even begin putting myself back together.
Mzatal turned back to me, brow furrowed, looking as though he was about to say something, then he shifted his attention to the door. “Helori is here to take you.”
I followed his gaze to see a syraza crouched silently by the door. Larger than Ilana and apparently male, he also had the ridges on head and torso that marked him as an Elder. I hadn’t heard him come in. For all I knew he’d been there since before I woke up. How was I supposed to prepare for a trip with him? Was I supposed to pack or something?
Helori rose fluidly and moved to the side of the bed, crouched again. “I am Helori,” he said with a teeth-baring smile. “And I would be honored if you would accompany me on a journey.”
I dragged up an unsteady smile from somewhere. “Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say after that.
Apparently it was enough. Helori lifted his eyes to Mzatal. “I have her now.”
Mzatal gave the syraza a nod, eyes traveling over me before he turned and departed.
“Do I…?” I frowned, tried again. “Should I pack something?”
“I have done so for you,” he told me, “and am happy to add anything, though I will have access to most necessities while we are away.”
“I don’t think I need anything.” My frown deepened. I was pretty sure that was true.
Helori stood, and now I saw he had clothing in his hand. “I have these for you,” he said, setting on the foot of the bed the necessary underwear as well as shirt and pants made of a pale blue gauzy material. He placed simple slip-on shoes on the floor nearby. “If they do not suit, I will find others.” He tilted his head. “Yes? No?”
“Yeah,” I said, glad not to be faced with any weightier decision than that. “That’s good.”
He moved to the balcony. “I will be here when you are ready.”
I waited for him to leave, then reached cautiously for the clothing, anticipating pain and surprised when it didn’t co
I slipped the shoes on and stepped out to the balcony. “I guess I’m ready.”
Helori smiled. “Come then. We will go to the grove.” He took my hand and led me back through Mzatal’s chambers and out. I followed without question or resistance as he led me out of the palace and toward the grove, his hand firm and comfortable on mine, our entire journey remarkably free of demons or humans or lords.
Helori greeted the mehnta as we entered the grove, then pulled me to the center and gave my hand a light squeeze. “Where would you like to go?”
Someplace safe, I thought. Someplace calm and beautiful and far away from lords. Far far away from lords. But to Helori I only gave a small shrug.
The syraza squeezed my hand again, nodded to the mehnta, and then we were gone.
Chapter 21
Helori led me up the tree tunnel of the grove at our destination and onto the narrow trail, through oversized plants with leaves twice my height pressing close and arching above. The rushing sound of surging surf came from ahead, punctuated by sharp cries and squawks from a variety of unseen creatures.
“Perhaps here will suit,” he said as we stepped out into the open.
I breathed in the warm salt air, felt the brush of the light breeze ruffle my shirt. “It’s perfect,” I murmured.
White sand met the gentle surf of brilliant sea, waves of turquoise and rich blue catching the afternoon sun. The beach stretched left and right as far as I could see, bounded by rich greens and purples of giant trees and plants.
“You swim,” he said as we moved down toward the water. “This is good for swimming. Very good.”
The water was beautiful, but I still hesitated. I didn’t want to take my shirt off. I didn’t want to see or show the sigils. “That’s okay,” I said. “I…I’ll just sit on the beach awhile.”
Helori kept the loose hold on my hand as he continued down the beach. “You would not regret it. The seas here can be very soothing.”
I didn’t want to make a scene, and so I continued on down to the water’s edge with him. I simply didn’t have it in me to argue. “Sure.” I could leave my shirt on. That would work.
Helori knelt and slipped my shoes off, carried them in one hand and took my hand again with the other as he led me over the fine-grained sand into the fringe of the surf. The water whooshed and swirled around my ankles in random, yet hypnotic movement. I didn’t pull away from him. The water seemed to help me forget, at least briefly, how broken I was.
He gradually led me deeper, keeping a comfortable hold on my hand. I didn’t fear the water or the depths. I was actually a really good swimmer, and didn’t need his hand for physical support, but I knew that wasn’t why he maintained the light grip. Looking out to the horizon, I tried to hold onto this sense of peace. I knew too damn well how fragile it was.
“How long do I have here?” I asked. “When did Mzatal say you have to bring me back?”
“He did not specify,” Helori replied. “It will fall to us to decide.”
My brow furrowed. “Us? What are you talking about?”
The syraza chimed softly. “Us. You and me. We will decide when to return.”
Frowning, I struggled to process this, but I couldn’t think straight enough for it to make sense. “Why would Mzatal let me have any say in when I returned?”
“You have all of the say,” Helori told me. “With me as guidance for as much as you will accept. You are not his prisoner.”
I stared at him, then laughed. “Oh, right. Is that what he told you?”
“Mzatal did not need to tell me,” Helori said as he led me a little deeper. “I know this. You are not a prisoner, and I am not your guard. He would have you work with him, but he will not force it.”
I stopped and turned to face him. “What if I never wanted to touch the arcane again?” Because there was a part of me that was considering exactly that. I’d had more than my fill of arcane shit.
His amethyst eyes were deep upon me. “It is most certainly a choice you can make, though it is not a choice you must make now in this moment. Should you choose to shun the arcane, you would still not be a prisoner.”
The syraza was completely serious, I realized. I shook my head as I tried to mentally reconfigure everything. “Then why…” I trailed off, struggled to get my thoughts straight. “But he was going to kill me.”
Helori took both my hands in his. “It was a very present possibility on several occasions, yes,” he said with full honesty. “In the early instances, for the preservation of the realm. In the instance prior to your surprising departure, to keep you from the hand of Rhyzkahl, though in doing so it protected the realm as well.”
“And what if he decides the realm needs protecting again?” I asked quietly.
The syraza seemed to look into me. “He would do what he must,” he replied, not lying—which, I supposed, was better than a line of bullshit. “He takes his stewardship quite seriously. However, I know him well. With all that has happened, he will do everything in his power to see that it does not come to that.”
“But how am I supposed to live knowing that at any moment he could?” I asked, deeply shaken. “And would?” Was I safe anywhere?
Helori lowered his head, gaze intensifying. “That is a question only you can answer. You know something of what is possible on a personal level from your time as a guardian of others.” I knew he was referring to my career as a police officer. “Answer for yourself what you would want in such a situation. Answer for yourself if you knew many others would die so that you may live. Speak to Mzatal of it. He will not lie to you and will tell you precisely where he stands. And you can tell him precisely where you stand.”
Even though I understood Helori, and agreed, I still felt myself trembling at the thought of having such a conversation with Mzatal. “I’m not ready to do that.” I’d never be able to hold myself together for a talk like that. Not now, not feeling so fucked up. Will I ever be not fucked up? I couldn’t even imagine it.
“No, you are not ready,” he said. “And you do not need to be yet. We will not return until you feel more yourself. And I will care for you until then. You have my word on that.”
Throat tight, I nodded as the truth of it wound around me like a warm blanket. Pulling away from his hand, I turned away. I knew I was about to start crying, and I quickly ducked under the water to get my face wet so it wasn’t so obvious. I didn’t want to have to deal with any of the shit that went along with crying, like being comforted, or anything like that.
“I want to swim,” I told him, and didn’t wait for a response before diving into an oncoming swell.
He didn’t appear to take any sort of offense. He retreated to the beach with a smile then took to the air in a graceful leap. Probably to better watch over me, I supposed, while I did my swimming and crying thing.
I continued until I was fairly tired out—which didn’t take all that long since I was still recovering from a lot of crap. I made my way back up to the beach. Though Helori wasn’t in sight, he had spread out a blanket beneath the shade of trees as large as oaks, but with graceful draping limbs like a willow. I still felt empty, but in a slightly better way than before.
A pile of neatly folded dry clothing lay on the blanket. I changed quickly, grateful to Helori for the consideration. A few minutes later, he landed neatly in the sand a few yards away.
“The water is lovely, yes?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said with a small smile. “It’s pretty awesome.”
He crouched near me. “You chose one of my favorite destinations for swimming.”
I gave him a puzzled look. “I chose?”
“Yes, you chose.” His mouth
I processed that for a few seconds. “It’s nice and calm here.”
“And it is safe.” He placed a three-fingered hand on my arm. “Would it trouble you if I changed to human form?”
“No,” I replied. “I’ve seen Eilahn do it. Do you need help?”
“Thank you, Kara. I am able to change independently, as can all of the Elders.” He stood. “It is the younger syraza who need assistance.”
He stretched his wings out as far as they would go, then pulled them in tightly, at the same time drawing a gauzy cloth from…elsewhere. “It is a fascinating process,” he said. “You should tell me if Hollywood special effects are better than the real thing,” he added with a syraza-laugh.
I made mental note of his casual Earth references and understandings. I’d seen Eilahn shift, but Helori’s was a seamless morph that kicked the ass of any CGI. Only a few seconds later he smiled at me from a human face, then drew the gauze cloth around his waist and tucked it in a fluid motion. About the height of Mzatal, lean and lithe, he wouldn’t have stood out in a crowd. That kind of surprised me since Eilahn was an absolute knockout in human form, and most of the lords seemed pretty damn good-looking. He did have the same multi-racial quality as Eilahn, but it served to make him blend rather than stand out.
He came over to sit cross-legged on the blanket, then planted his elbows on knees and chin on fists as he peered at me. “Hungry? Thirsty? Sleepy?”
“Not sleepy,” I said. “Tired, but not sleepy. I could eat, though.”
He seemed to go distant for a moment, then reached and drew cheese, a knife, and a round loaf of bread from…elsewhere and set them all before me. That was a pretty cool trick.
“I’ll be right back.” He winked, leapt up, and disappeared into the trees. I watched him go, then cut some bread and cheese and began to eat. A few minutes later Helori returned and deposited a double handful of cranberry-looking things on the blanket. “That should help tame your appetite,” he said with a smile.