Mark of the Demon

“Was there anyone else with him?”



Michelle shook her head. “Nah, not really. I mean, he talked to the people who hung out there, but he didn’t have anyone with him or anything.”



“Did you ever see any of the pictures he drew?”



“Yeah, it was some wild stuff. Comic book or something, right?”



“That’s right.”



“Yeah. It was cool. I talked to him once, y’know? He was nice. He told me that he was a lot better at drawing people with a picture to start from, not real good at drawing from just his imagination. He gave me twenty bucks and he took a bunch of pictures.” She looked down at the drawings. “Why are you asking me about him? Did he do something wrong by paying us? I never fucked him, if that’s what you’re getting at.”



“No. I’m the lead investigator on the Symbol Man investigation.” I waited for it to process through the girl’s head.



“Oh, wow,” she breathed. “He’s the Symbol Man?”



“No. He was killed by the Symbol Man.” I put the drawings back in the folder, noting that the girl looked at them wistfully.



“Oh, my God. He’s dead?” To my surprise, tears began to well up in her eyes. “Oh, man, he was nice. That’s horrible.”



“I’m sorry,” I said.



Michelle sniffled and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. “So why are you asking me all of this stuff about him if he’s dead?”



“Well, when we went into his house, we found a bunch of pictures and drawings—people he’d taken pictures of around town.” I kept my gaze on her. “It turns out that all the victims of the Symbol Man had been photographed and drawn by Greg already.”



The girl paled. “Wait. You mean—”



“Yes,” I said. “You’re at risk of being a victim.”



Her eyes went wide. “Oh, my God, you can’t let him get me!”



I reached out and put my hand on top of Michelle’s. “I won’t. That’s why I’m talking to you now. I know you don’t want to hear this, but jail is the safest place for you right now.”



Michelle stared at me, then shook her head. “I can’t stay here. It’s cold, and the food is awful, and all the other women in the holding cell are nasty.”



“Would you rather be slit open from throat to twat?” I said, forcefully blunt.



Michelle seemed to deflate. Her eyes filled with tears again. “This just sucks. Jail sucks.”



“I know,” I said, softening my tone. “I know, but give me just a bit more time. We’re close to this guy. Once we catch him, then you’re out of here.” I gave Michelle a wry smile. “And I’ll do my best to make sure that any time you spend in here will apply to your sentence.”



Her lip quivered. “Okay. But this still sucks.”



I stood and pressed the button to call the guard back. “I know, Michelle. But it beats being dead.”



I didn’t head back home or to the office. There was a conversation I’d been meaning to have for a while now, and time was running out to get all the answers.



I walked up the steps to my aunt’s house and rang the doorbell. It was barely six a.m., but I knew she would already be up and about. True to form, the door opened before the echoes of the bell had faded away.



“Hiya, sweets. You know you don’t have to ring the bell.”



“Aunt Tessa,” I said without preamble, “we need to talk.”



Tessa’s smile faded and she gave a nod, as if she’d been expecting this visit. She turned and headed down the hall to the kitchen and then sat at the counter, pushing a cup of tea toward me.



I couldn’t help but smile a bit as I lifted the cup. Perfect, as always.



“Aunt Tessa, I need you to tell me about the time you saw Rhyzkahl.”



Tessa sighed and set her hands on the counter as if to examine her nails. “I knew you’d be coming to me at some point about that whole thing.” She lifted her eyes to mine. “It’s all connected, isn’t it?”



“I’m almost positive,” I said. “But I need some more information, and you’re the only one who can give it to me.”



Tessa squeezed her eyes shut briefly. “I can still see the whole thing. Even almost thirty years later.”



“Greg told me that you two were in the basement when his father attempted to summon Rhyzkahl,” I said, gently prompting.



Tessa shook her head firmly. “No, he wasn’t attempting to summon Rhyzkahl. Only someone with a death wish would do that. He was trying to summon another lord, Szerain, who was much lower in stature than Rhyzkahl and supposedly willing to negotiate terms. It was a ridiculous and doomed attempt to heal his wife of breast cancer, which had gone undiagnosed and untreated because of his insane aversion to the medical community.” Her voice was filled with bitterness. Then she sighed again. “Not that there was much that could have been done back then. They just didn’t have the treatments they do today, but she might have had a few more years.” An expression of regret flickered across her face. “We’ll never know now.”



“Aunt Tessa,” I said, leaning forward. “Please tell me everything that you remember about that night.”



Tessa curled her hands around her cup, empty as it was. “Greg and I had both just turned seventeen. Our birthdays were only a few days apart. We’d been playmates since we were just kids—used to spend darn near every waking minute together. When we got older, the friendship just naturally progressed to intimacy.” Her lips twitched. “I guess you could say we were best-friend-fuckbuddies.”



I knew she wanted me to react, but I refused to amuse her. Get to the point, I thought silently.



After waiting a few breaths for me to respond, Tessa began to speak again. “Greg’s mother had been sick for a while, and his father decided that performing an incredibly risky, idiotic, insane summoning was preferable to actually taking her to seek medical help. We knew that it was breast cancer only because Greg had snuck her out and taken her to see a damn doctor.” Anger colored her voice. “At that time, I had no idea what a summoning was or that I had any talent for it. I knew that my mother had a private study that was sometimes locked, but that was about it. But that Saturday night, Greg called me and asked me to come over. He didn’t say so, but I knew he was worried about his mom and didn’t want to be alone. His parents had some sort of dinner party planned for that night, and I figured that meant we’d have lots of time to fool around in his basement.” A ghost of a smile lit her face. “I was doing my best to distract him from his worries, when people started coming downstairs. My mother was among them, which I hadn’t expected. We scrambled to grab our clothes and dove behind a bookcase, figuring we’d hide until they all left again.” She shook her head. “But they didn’t leave. We stayed behind that bookcase and watched as the ritual began.” She set the cup down and stood, moving to the sink to look out at her backyard and the morning sun on the lake beyond.



“Go on,” I prompted after a moment.



Tessa rolled her head on her neck as if trying to ease the tension. “You have to understand the … feelings of guilt that I’ve dealt with all these years. I know it’s not rational, but I feel guilty all the same.”



“Aunt Tessa, why?”



“I could feel the ritual, feel the opening of the portal.” Her voice was low, thready. “It was the first time I’d ever seen a summoning, and I could instantly feel that it was something I could do.” Her shoulders slumped. “And without knowing what I was doing, without thinking, I sat in my hiding place behind that bookcase and I reached out mentally to that portal as it opened.”



“Oh, shit,” I breathed.



“Yes. I altered the forming of it, changed the structure just enough …”



“And Rhyzkahl was pulled through.”



Tessa’s hands were white-knuckled on the rim of the sink. “Yes. Completely unwilling and without any warning. And because it was an imperfect portal, it was probably quite painful for him as well.”



I shivered. The memory of his unshielded fury came back to me.



“He … he’s beautiful, as you know. Angelic. There was a moment, a perfect small moment, when all everyone could see was that beauty, and everyone thought that the summoning had gone as planned.” She turned back to me, hugging her arms around herself. “And then he let us feel the full extent of his anger.”



“I’ve felt it,” I said softly.



Tessa gave a single jerky nod. “It was a bloodbath, a slaughter, but I’ll grant him this: He took his vengeance but did not revel in the suffering. Only enough to satisfy his honor.” A shudder rippled through her. “But it was still a horror to watch. He killed two of the men first, literally ripped them apart. He broke the necks of two women.” Tessa took a deep breath. “The only summoners left were my mother and Peter Cerise. They were both pinned down by his sheer power.” She brushed her hair out of her face, hands shaking slightly. “Rhyzkahl knew we were there, hiding. He looked straight at us. I could … feel his presence, feel him measuring and testing us.” She fell silent for several heartbeats. “I don’t know exactly how he killed my mother, but in one breath she was alive and screaming in terror, and then she just … fell silent, sighed, and didn’t breathe again.” She licked her lips. “Greg’s mother was next. Powers above and below, how he drew that out! Peter Cerise was held down by the unbelievable potency of Rhyzkahl, both legs snapped like dry twigs. Couldn’t move, forced to watch as Rhyzkahl ripped gobbets of cancerous flesh from his wife, that angelic face utterly impassive.”



I realized that my hands were clenched into tight fists under the table, nails digging into my palms.



Tessa dragged a hand across her face. “And then he gathered his power and was gone, leaving the blood and the slaughter.” She made a breathy sound that I realized was meant to be a laugh. “It’s funny. I hate Rhyzkahl for what he did that night, but I could never blame him for my mother’s death. It was Peter Cerise’s arrogance and my ignorance that were the true causes for what happened.”



“Aunt Tessa! You can’t blame yourself like that.”



Tessa turned back to me. “Oh, I know. I was so very young. But Rhyzkahl was merely acting on his nature after being dragged unwillingly through the portal. He took the vengeance he needed to satisfy his honor. Greg’s mother … it was hideous what Rhyzkahl did to her, but … I could see her face. I don’t think she felt any of it. I think Rhyzkahl did it solely to further torment Peter Cerise.”



I struggled to grasp how my aunt could be so accepting of the Demonic Lord’s actions. “What happened after he was gone?”



Tessa took a deep breath, beginning to recover some of her color. “I grabbed Greg—dearest powers of all, but he was hysterical. I was just trying to not think about it. I hated Greg’s dad, hated him so much for making my mother do this thing, hated him for not treating his wife properly. I dumped Greg upstairs, then went back and ran to the garage …” She trailed off.



“Greg told me,” I said gently. “Told me that you burned the house down to cover up what had happened.”



“He didn’t tell you everything. He didn’t tell you what he didn’t see.” Tessa’s voice was flat.



“What didn’t he see?”



“I dumped the gas down into the basement, then lit a towel off the stove and threw that down as well.” She looked at me. “I stayed there long enough to make sure that the place was going to catch fire. I stayed long enough to make sure that the stairs had caught, so that Peter Cerise couldn’t get out.”



I felt as if I’d been punched. “What? I thought he’d been killed by Rhyzkahl.”



“No. He was alive. Rhyzkahl broke his legs and left him to watch it all. He knew that it was a greater revenge to make Cerise live with the memory, the guilt.” Tessa gave her head a sharp shake. “I wasn’t thinking that elegantly. I just wanted him dead.”



I stood. “Aunt Tessa. Are you sure he died in the fire?”



Her thin eyebrows drew together. “When they finally put the fire out, the basement was a mess. And since we never saw him again, I …” She smacked her hand to her forehead. “I never even thought of him!”



“Basements usually have windows or doors, other ways out in case there is a fire,” I breathed. “He’s alive. He’s alive, and he wants to summon Rhyzkahl. It makes sense. That explains how he knew Greg.” I grabbed my aunt by her shoulders. “Aunt Tessa, do you know what he looks like? Do you have old pictures of him? Anything?”



Tessa shook her head. “No, sweets, nothing like that. And if he stayed around here, he must have changed his appearance, because Greg always thought he was dead too.”



“Aunt Tessa, I have to go,” I said, as I snatched up my cell phone and took off for the door. This was almost worse than not knowing. I knew who the Symbol Man was now, but I had no idea how to find him.



I had my cell-phone headset jammed into my ear even before I got the car started. I punched Ryan’s number in as I backed out of my aunt’s driveway. “Come, on, Ryan. Pick up!” I muttered.



“Good morning, Kara,” Ryan said as he answered.



“Ryan! I know who the Symbol Man is,” I said in a rush. “It’s Greg Cerise’s dad, Peter Cerise, who was supposedly killed in a summoning, but I think he wasn’t killed after all. And now he wants revenge on Rhyzkahl and everyone else for letting his wife die, even though it was his own damn fault to begin with!”