Mark of the Demon (2 page)

He bared his teeth, lips curling back from the wicked fangs. “No body would be found, summoner. But I will respect your desire.” He inclined his head to me, then spread his wings, somehow managing not to knock any of my pictures off the shelves. I looked at him in uninhibited delight. I’d spent almost ten years studying and training, carefully guided by my mentor and aunt through the summoning rituals of each level of demon, gradually working my way up to working solo. A solo summoning of a
reyza
was considered “graduation,” and here I was with one in my living room.

I crouched to get a look at the wide-eyed man beneath Kehlirik’s foot, unconsciously echoing the demon’s posture. Pale and skinny with scraggly hair that stood out from his head, the intruder was probably in his early to mid thirties, though I knew that my estimate could be off by about a decade. Heavy drug use tended to age a person, and I could easily peg him as a meth or possibly crack user. He also had the distinct sour odor of someone who hadn’t paid close attention to hygiene for quite some time, and I found myself shifting slightly closer to the
reyza
, whose scent was far more appealing.

“Wow, did you ever pick the
wrong
house tonight,” I said. Then I had to laugh as a realization hit me. “Wait. I bet you’re the one who broke into those two houses up the highway last week. Am I right?”

The man whimpered and shook his head, his eyes wild. “No! No, not me! I … I thought this was my buddy’s house—”

Kehlirik snarled down at the man, causing him to yelp in terror again. “I’m not stupid,” I informed my intruder. “Don’t insult me again.”

The man began to shake with sobs. “OhGodohGod, p-please don’t let it eat me! I’ll never do it again, I swear. I just needed enough to buy a rock. Oh, God!”

I shifted my regard to the demon. Kehlirik rumbled low in his throat, returning my gaze with eyes full of intelligence and cunning. I was ridiculously tempted to screw with my burglar and ask the demon if he was hungry, but I wasn’t
completely
sure that Kehlirik would realize I was kidding. I was fairly positive that demons had no taste for human flesh, but it was probably best to not test the issue. There were plenty of unknowns when it came to demons.

I stood, shaking a slight cramp out of my leg. I really couldn’t allow the demon to kill him. The guy was a drug addict and probably had a rap sheet a mile long, but I doubted that any of his offenses were of the capital variety—most likely nothing more than theft to support his habit. Besides, I was supposed to be one of the good guys.

Oh, well. There was no doubt that he was going to babble about what he saw. I would just have to trust that no one would believe any ravings he might have about winged monsters.

Besides, it was his own damn fault that he’d picked
my
house to break into, on a night that I’d summoned a demon.

A deliciously wicked compromise occurred to me.
“Reyza
, I do not wish this one slain, but perhaps you could do me a service.”

The demon’s eyes glowed a ruddy orange in the dim light of my living room. “Name your desire, summoner.”

With effort, I kept my face composed. “I would have him punished for his intrusion, yet he must be returned to me
physically
unharmed.”

The demon inclined his head gravely, but I was fairly sure I could see amusement in his eyes. “It will be done, summoner.”

I barely had time to step out of the demon’s way before he snatched up the pathetic man and bounded out the front door. I followed, pausing just long enough to grab my cell phone and handcuffs off my desk. I exited onto my porch just in time to see Kehlirik leap into the air with my erstwhile intruder firmly grasped in clawed hands.

I let out a snicker and sat on the front step. I listened as the panicked screams faded into the night sky, then dialed the number for the St. Long Parish Sheriff’s Office.

“Hi, this is Detective Kara Gillian with the PD,” I said when the dispatcher answered. “Could you please send a patrol unit to my home address? I have a ten-fifteen on a 62R here.” A 10-15 was an arrest, and a 62R was a burglary. Though I worked for the Beaulac Police Department, I lived outside the city limits, which meant that if something criminal happened at my house, it was sheriff’s office jurisdiction.

“A 62R … Kara, someone broke into your house? Way out there?”

I recognized the woman’s voice as a dispatcher who’d previously worked with the PD. Slightly pudgy with harshly dyed red hair, but I couldn’t remember the woman’s name to save my life. “Yeah, but all he managed to do was break a window by the door.”

The dispatcher laughed. “Bad choice of houses!”

You have no idea
, I thought. “No kidding,” I said instead. “Good thing the noise woke me up.”

“All right, I’ll get a unit out there.”

I set the phone down and clasped my hands lightly around my knees, looking up at the moon that shone full through the barest sheen of clouds. A languid breeze twined through the dark trees, rustling needles and bringing a deep, rich scent of earth and pine to me. I hugged myself against the slight chill, listening to the faint buzz of a mosquito and the song of a nearby cricket. A satisfied peace stole through me, an almost-Pavlovian response to my environment. I’d lived in this house my entire life—with the exception of one terrible month after my father was killed by a drunk driver. I was eleven and had been placed in foster care until my aunt Tessa could return from Japan to take over as my legal guardian. My mother had passed away three years before that, from ovarian cancer that had gone undetected until it was far too late, and there were no other relatives—or even close friends—to take me in, a fact that had not pleased my aunt at the time, especially since the one time she’d met me before I’d been in diapers. But she’d done what she could to lessen the upheaval for me, despite her reluctance to take on the enormous responsibility of raising a preteen kid. She’d moved into this house with me instead of yanking me out of the only home I’d ever known, knowing that in time I would find more comfort than grief here.

I was nearly thirty now and finally beginning to realize just how important that comfort was to me. I loved it out here, far from town and other houses. I lived on a seldom-traveled highway, my driveway was long and winding, and the nearest neighbor was well over a mile away.

It was the perfect house for someone who required privacy.

And it wasn’t until I was fifteen that I’d learned my aunt’s ulterior motive for the decision to raise me in this house. My aunt Tessa was a summoner of demons, and the basement of this house was an ideal place for a summoning chamber.

A few minutes later, the demon swooped down to land neatly in front of me, dangling his ashen-faced prisoner by one ankle. “I believe he is suitably cowed.”

Too bad I couldn’t give this treatment to all my arrestees.
We’d probably have fewer repeat offenders
, I thought as I handcuffed the unresisting man. I left him whimpering softly on the porch with his hands cuffed behind his back, then returned my attention to the demon. “My thanks again, Kehlirik.”

The demon slowly sank into a crouch. “Summoner, this was the first time you called a
reyza
unaided, yes?”

I gave a wary nod. Had I screwed something up?

He snorted, flaring his nostrils. “I did not think that you called me for the sole purpose of thwarting an intrusion. Had you another desire for this summoning?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I … had been hoping to learn how to reverse a portal without having to close and reopen.”
That
was why it was worth the effort to summon the higher-level demons. With the proper negotiation of terms, they could be persuaded to share a measure of their knowledge and skills.

The demon ticked his claws against his leg, a thoughtful expression on his monstrous face. “And you were forced to anchor and close when I left your control to apprehend your intruder. Forgive me. I should have waited to know your wishes first.”

“No, it’s all right,” I said, more than a little shocked by the apology. “Trust me, I’m very pleased that you caught the guy, especially before he did any real harm.”

“Still, I should have waited to know your will first.” He gave me a small bow, moonlight glinting off the curved horns on his head. “When next you summon me, I will school you in the technique to allay my shame in failing you.”

I controlled my expression, with effort. I knew that matters of honor were deathly serious among the demonkind, but this was my first experience at being owed a debt of honor. “You have not failed me,” I said, carefully choosing my words and trying not to show my glee, “but I would be honored to learn this and would consider any debt between us null.”

Kehlirik abruptly went still, hissing softly.

I took a cautious step back. “Is something wrong?” Crap. What had I done now?

The demon gave a low growl. “Something touches the arcane in this sphere.”

I started to relax, then frowned. “What do you mean? Another summoning?” There weren’t many other summoners in the region. In fact, I didn’t know of any in all of southeast Louisiana except for my aunt, though I figured New Orleans probably boasted a couple. Of course, people who made a practice of summoning demons didn’t usually hang signs on their door advertising the fact, and summoning itself was not exactly a common skill. You had to have someone mentor you in the art for several years, plus you had to be willing to shed some blood now and then.

I’d been mentored by my aunt Tessa, of course. By the time I hit my teenage years, I realized that there was more to the world—and my aunt—than met the eye. The day after I received my driver’s license, my aunt “introduced” me to my first demon, who confirmed her suspicion that I had the ability to be a summoner. After beginning my training, I discovered that here,
finally
, was something I excelled at. The rituals, the forms—all felt as natural as breathing. Training under my aunt had not always gone smoothly, but I’d never regretted starting down that path to become a summoner.

Maybe Tessa had summoned tonight as well? The spheres were in excellent alignment for the higher-level summonings, and with the moon at full it couldn’t get much better.

The demon settled his wings, as if uneasy. “I cannot tell, but it has a taint to it.”

“What sort of taint?”

Kehlirik growled again, a deep, throbbing sound that made the hair on my arms stand on end, even as used to demons as I was. “Blood and death.” His eyes narrowed. “More I cannot determine. I am not versed in such. You would need to call another to learn more.”

Crap. There was no way to summon again tonight. Two summonings in one night was far too draining and dangerous. I glanced up at the moon again. It would still be full enough tomorrow. That would work.

Kehlirik gave a heavy snort. “A vehicle approaches this place. Do you require more service of me?”

“No,” I said, after a brief hesitation. “My thanks again,
reyza
. Your help has been invaluable this night.” My original reason for summoning the demon had been blown, but it had been more than made up for by his promise to school me in the more-advanced forms. I would definitely summon him again on the next full moon.

Kehlirik folded his wings in close and bowed his head before me. I took a deep breath, finding my focus, then lifted my arms and began to speak the words of dismissal as I pulled potency to me. A sharp wind rose from nowhere, sending dust into my face and bringing with it an acrid, sulfurous smell that burned my nose. I squinted against the wind at the massive form of the demon, carefully holding my focus as I finished the chant. Kehlirik rose up with a bellow, spreading his wings and throwing his head back. A blinding sliver of light formed behind him, and in the span between one heartbeat and the next he disappeared, with a sharp
crack
like a breaking glacier. The light dissipated and faded, spinning off sparklets that danced briefly in my peripheral vision before disappearing.

The wind died instantly and I dragged my hands through my shoulder-length mud-brown hair, finger-combing it as best I could. Just in time too; I could see headlights coming up my long driveway and hear the crunch of tires on gravel. My legs wobbled and I sat heavily on my front step again, taking deep breaths to get rid of the black spots that briefly pirouetted through my vision. Dismissals were nearly as draining as summonings, though nowhere near as dangerous.

The sheriff’s unit stopped just a few feet from my front porch and out stepped Justin Sanchez—a short and skinny deputy with uneven teeth and dark hair that looked unkempt no matter how short he cut it. He sported a scraggly mustache that looked like a balding caterpillar beneath a nose that had a slight bend to the right. He’d been with the PD before he transferred to the sheriff’s office and had been one of my teammates back when I first became a cop, teaching me early on that size wasn’t everything in a fight. More importantly, he taught me how to snap my gum—an annoying trick I used to harass my aunt until she threatened to cease teaching me if she ever saw gum in my mouth again.

He gave me a grin. “Looks like this moron picked the wrong house, huh?”

I batted my eyelashes and put on an innocent expression. “Why, Officer, I’m jest a helpless li’l gal. I was skeert to death!”

He laughed. “Yeah, right. For some reason I feel sorry for this guy.”

If you only knew
.

“By the way, nice jammies,” he said with a sly smile.

I hurriedly crossed my arms over my chest. The “jammies” were just the silk shirt and pants that I wore to summon, but it hadn’t occurred to me to throw on different clothes. Or even a bra. Not that I was so well-endowed that it was instantly obvious, but Justin was a cop and a guy. And it was chilly out. He had noticed.

And while I knew he was just teasing me and giving me shit, I never knew quite how to respond when guys joked with me in a quasi-sexual way. My aunt Tessa was not the most sociable of people, and I’d been forced to figure out the complexities of social skills on my own—with varying degrees of success. That was one of the reasons I loved being a cop: There was a built-in sense of brotherhood that satisfied a long-buried desire to somehow
belong
.