Mark of the Demon

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 as he deftly slipped my shirt over my head, barely breaking the contact with my lips at all. A moan escaped me and I leaned into him as he deepened the kiss. His fingers moved deliciously against my skin as heat flushed through me.



But I had too many questions running through my head to enjoy the moment properly. I struggled out of his thrall and pulled reluctantly away from his kiss. He straightened and regarded me, smiling. “Is there aught wrong, dearest?”



“No, it’s just … You said you would deal with whatever it was yourself, but if it has something to do with my case I need to know.”



He laughed, tipping his head back. “Oh, my dear Kara, you never fail to impress me! Such dedication to your calling.” Then his smile took on a harder edge. “How is it that you were injured?”



I pulled the comforter closer around me, aware that he’d avoided giving me any information. “A demon—a kehza—attacked us,” I said. “But it wasn’t trying to kill us. I mean, it could have taken us out several times, and I suffered only a cut on my shoulder. And, to be honest, I think that was an accident as well. It was almost like I ran into him.”



His lip curled in an echo of a snarl. “You have the taint about you of an arcane attack. This angers me.”



“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly thrilled that it happened either.”



He shook his head, hair cascading in silken perfection with the movement. “A higher demon would have known not to touch you.”



I blinked at him. “Huh? Why?”



“A syraza or reyza would have been able to sense my touch on you and would have known that you are not for any other to affect.”



I stared at him. “Wait. What? You’ve branded me or something?”



He brushed his fingers across my hair. “You are mine, Kara. I will not tolerate another molesting you.”



“What?” I screeched. “Yours? Only you can molest me?”



But the room was empty.



The door slammed open and Ryan stood framed in the doorway. “Kara! What’s wrong?”



I yelped and crossed my arms over my chest, blinking at him stupidly. “Um … am I awake?”



Ryan looked at me oddly. “You yelled something unintelligible, so I came in to see what was wrong. So, tell me, what’s wrong?”



I had to have been asleep if Rhyzkahl had been here. I glanced down and breathed a deep sigh of relief, lowering my arms. I was still wearing my shirt. “Nothing. It was just a dream.” Just a dream. Ha. Stop being stupid, I berated myself. Stop finding things to like about him.



I could see him tense. “What kind of dream? Was it a demon dream?”



I ran my fingers through my hair. “It was a Demonic Lord dream, yeah.” Then I froze, arm still raised. “What the hell?”



He stepped into the room. “What is it?”



I flexed my arm, then rolled my shoulder, reaching up with my other hand to feel the bandage.



“What is it?” he repeated, tone growing urgent.



I peeled the bandage off and felt the skin beneath it. “It doesn’t hurt.”



He gave me a puzzled look. “Your shoulder? You need to be careful of it. It still needs to heal.”



I shifted so that he could see my shoulder. “No, it doesn’t. It’s already healed. There’s not even a scar.”



“Let me see,” he ordered. I twisted around to show him the unmarred skin of my shoulder. I could feel small pieces of thread and flakes of dried blood around where the wound had been—blood that I’d been too exhausted to completely clean off earlier. But there was most definitely no wound anymore. No wound, no scar, no stitches, no deviation in the flesh of any sort.



He let out a low whistle. “If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would never believe it.”



“And I’m glad you’re a witness to it.” I flexed my arm again, still not fully believing it. “How long have I been asleep?”



He glanced at his watch. “A few hours. I’d just dozed off on the couch when I heard you yell.” His mouth twitched in a smile. “Do you always wake up yelling?”



“No,” I said with a laugh, tossing a pillow at him. “But his lordiness also left me feeling fresh and rested.”



He peered into my face. “You certainly don’t look as exhausted.”



I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood. “I’m not. At all. I feel like I’ve slept twelve hours.” Okay, so maybe there were some advantages to these dream visits.



Ryan yawned. “Yeah, well, I don’t. I’m gonna dig out and head back to my hotel room and hope that Garner doesn’t snore too loudly.”



I gave him a withering look. “Don’t be an idiot. I have a guest room that no one ever stays in. In fact, you will probably be the first guest to ever stay there.”



“Cool,” he said, eyes crinkling. “My whining was suitably pathetic. I’ll be more than happy to christen your guest room.”



I laughed. “Go. Next door down the hall. It’s the one with the bed in it. If you get to the room with the bathtub, you’ve gone too far.”



He flashed me a grin and left. My own smile faded as he continued on down the hall and my left hand crept up to feel the unblemished skin on my shoulder.



What was this going to cost me? Rhyzkahl’s comments about marking me as his own haunted me.



Or had I already paid the price?



Chapter 21



The house seemed unbearably quiet after Ryan went off to get some sleep. And after standing in the foyer for several minutes, I realized that it seemed so because, up until that point, everything had been going so quickly. I finally had a chance to breathe, but at the same time I knew that I really didn’t have the luxury of time to relax. The Symbol Man was still out there, and so far I’d failed utterly to find any of the people who were next on his list.



Except the one girl, Belle, and that had not exactly gone well. The persistent sick knot in my stomach warned me how she’d probably be found.



It was early afternoon, which meant I had at least five more hours of daylight. After the experience with the demon, I wasn’t too keen on going out without backup, and Ryan would most likely sleep for at least several hours.



But there was plenty that I could do without backup. I went and took a quick shower, scrubbing the last of the dried blood off the nonexistent wound on my shoulder, then dressed in jeans and a 16th Annual Law Enforcement Torch Run T-shirt, looping my holster through my belt. I jotted a quick note to Ryan, telling him where I was going and to call me when he woke up, then I gathered up the copies of the pictures of the victims-to-be and headed to the station.



I spent the next several hours making more copies of the pics and then passing them out to the patrol guys, giving them a brief rundown of why I needed to get in touch with these people.



“I recognize a couple of these faces,” one of the officers coming on duty said, shuffling through the pics. “But I couldn’t tell you their real names.”



“Have you ever arrested any of them?” I asked eagerly.



He shrugged. “Might have. But I’m not sure when or where.”



But that gave me an idea. I thanked the officer and then called Detective Harris.



“Harris here,” he answered on the second ring.



“Harris, it’s Kara Gillian. If I send you a composite of the pics from Cerise’s house, do you think you could pass them out to the deputies over there to see if any of your guys recognize anyone?”



He was silent for a moment, then, “That’s a damn good idea, Gillian,” he said, to my intense shock. “Use the troops. Definitely. Send them over.”



I hung up the phone, bemused, then quickly emailed the collection of pics over to Harris. Finally, it felt like I was doing something. I spent about an hour typing up some notes, then shut down my computer to head back home. Ryan would probably be awake soon, and then the two of us could continue canvassing for these people.



My phone rang just as I was locking the door to my office. “Detective Gillian,” I said.



“Hey, Detective Gillian, this is Deputy Keller with the sheriff’s office. I think we found one of your people.”



“Wow, that was fast! Where are you? Which one?”



He cleared his throat. “Well, it’s not so great, really. We’re out on Highway 1790.”



Highway 1790 was a long, empty stretch through the swamp at the north end of the parish. The sick knot in my stomach tightened. “Shit. Don’t tell me.”



He sighed. “Yeah, she’s dead. Sorry.”



“I’m on my way.”



I sent a text message to Ryan and pulled up at the scene about half an hour later, just as dusk was beginning to paint the sky in shades of purple and orange. Detective James Harris was already on the scene—which I’d expected since the body was found within his jurisdiction. But I was somewhat surprised to see Agent Zack Garner there as well, standing by his car and talking on his cell phone.



He hung up as I approached. “Ryan’s on his way. He and I were grabbing dinner when he got your text, and he said he’d meet us here.”



I caught myself in time before saying something like, Oh, I figured he’d still be asleep. That would be a sure way to give people the wrong impression.



“We’ve been discussing the case most of the afternoon,” Zack continued, absently waving a mosquito away from his face.



He must not have slept long at all, I decided. But it was probably better that he not spend too much time at my house. “Come up with anything new and interesting?” I asked.



He shook his head. “He just filled me in on what happened to you two this morning.”



“Yeah, it was pretty wild,” I said, keeping my response vague since I had no idea what Ryan had told him. Which story did he give him—the demon attack, or the one we told everyone else?



Zack’s eyes met mine. “He told me what really happened,” he clarified. The flashing red and blue lights of the patrol units reflected oddly in his eyes, making them seem for an instant as if they had a reddish cast of their own. Then he smiled and the effect was gone. “Sounds dumb, but I sure wish I’d been there to see it for myself.”



“Not dumb at all,” I said, but my gaze slid to Harris. He was deep in conversation with some of the detectives from his own department. “Does he …?”



Zack snorted. “No. Hell, he wouldn’t believe it even if he saw it with his own eyes. He’d find some way to explain it.”



“That sounds about right,” I said, relieved that Harris had not also been privy to the real story. I couldn’t explain why, but I didn’t have any worries about Zack knowing the truth. I just somehow knew that he got it.



“And here comes our prodigal son,” Zack said, looking beyond me. I turned to see a dark Crown Victoria pulling to the side of the highway behind my Taurus.



Ryan exited his car and walked up to us. I noticed that he’d found the time to shower, shave, and change clothes and still managed to look fairly rested. He gave a nod to Zack, then looked at me, expression sober. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”