Mark of the Demon (23 page)

Tonight I would make do with just a very low second- or third-level demon, hopefully one who could give me some clue about what was going on with these bodies and translate the runes and sigils for me. A very small and simple summoning.

In fact, it might be best that I’m doing this while the moon isn’t full
, I decided. With luck, the lack of potency would prevent anything unexpected from happening again.
Though it would be a lot easier to prevent something from happening if I knew just how the hell it had happened in the first place!

Before I could change my mind or chicken out, I marched over to the basement door and yanked it open.

Cold, stale air pillowed out of the door, and I realized with a guilty start that this was the first time I’d opened the door to the basement since that night with Rhyzkahl. The awareness sent a deep spear of chagrin through me. I couldn’t afford to be weak like that. I couldn’t lose my focus. And I certainly couldn’t be afraid. Not and be a successful summoner. Summoners had to be cautious, wary, and vigilant, but fear caused you to lose focus. The time for fear was afterward, when you could learn from it.

I flicked the lights on with the switch at the top of the stairs. With fluorescent lighting, the basement hardly looked like an arcane summoning chamber. My annoyance with myself grew as I looked around, seeing the implements still left out from last time—the candles on the floor, the knife on the carpet, the chalk and the oil near the smeared diagram.

“You suck,” I scolded myself, but I could still do this. It was early—barely seven p.m.—which gave me plenty of time to do the necessary cleaning and preparing.

It didn’t take me long to get into the rhythm of the cleaning. I wasn’t usually a neat and tidy sort, but, when my mind was scattered, it was one way that I could get my thoughts gathered.

My house was ready well before midnight, the chamber cleaned and my garments hanging on the hook at the bottom of the stairs. I took a shower, then wrapped my fuzzy bathrobe around me as I walked to the front door to check the lock and pull the curtains closed.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when a knock sounded on the door just as I was turning the lock. I scowled, taking a breath to settle myself as I stood there with my hand on the lock. Who the hell would be coming by at this hour? No one ever came to visit, which was fine with me. I was too far from the road for it to be someone with an emergency.

Shit
. I hadn’t placed any arcane protections around the house yet. I’d planned to save those for last, since they were such a pain in the ass. I stood quietly for a moment, waiting to see if the person would leave, but that hope was dashed when the knock came again, hard and heavy. Like a police knock.
Shitfuckdamn
.

I peered through the peephole, shocked to see Agent Kristoff standing outside my door. I frowned, trying to see if anyone was with him. I couldn’t see anyone else, but the peephole didn’t exactly give the best view of the porch.

I tugged my robe closer about me, snugged the belt tight, then unlocked the door and pulled it open about three inches. He was wearing a long-sleeved black oxford-style shirt and khaki dress pants—a really good look for him, I thought in an incredibly private part of my mind. The porch light did interesting things to his facial features as well. He had a fairly rugged face, like a man who wasn’t afraid to work outdoors and get his hands dirty, but the overhead lighting made him look positively craggy. I couldn’t help but mentally compare his face with the unearthly and perfect beauty of Rhyzkahl, and that same incredibly private part of my mind wasn’t sure which I found more appealing.

I gave myself a mental slap to get back to the here and now. “Agent Kristoff. Are you lost?”

“No, Detective Gillian,” he said. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes so that we could discuss some of the aspects of the case that we were, ah … unable to go into at the station?”

I stared at him. “Now?”

He gave a half shrug. “Well, yes. I’m sorry. I know it’s late, but there aren’t too many opportunities that I’m going to have to speak to you without the others around.”

Well, that was most likely the truth. I grimaced and glanced up at the sky out of habit.
No, you’re not going to see a full moon, silly. You’re doing a full-dark summoning
. I looked back at him. “Your timing is kinda awkward.”

He blinked, then his mouth twitched. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you might have company. I didn’t see another car in your driveway.”

I groaned. Yep, that’s exactly what it looked like, answering the door in my bathrobe and not wanting to let him in. “Oh, good grief, no! There’s no one else here.” I ran a hand through my still-damp hair. “No, I was just … uh … getting ready to do something.”

He gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I hope I wasn’t being insulting just now.”

“No.” I suppressed the sigh. “Heck, if you knew me any better, you’d know that it’s pretty damn rare for me to have
any
company here.”

“Now that’s just a damn shame,” he said, still smiling.

Was he
flirting
with me? “No, I mean, any company, not just male company. Though I don’t have any of that either. Crap! I mean … Crap.” I pulled the door all the way open. “Just come in,” I growled, turning away and stalking down the hall to the kitchen before I could humiliate myself any further, if that was even possible. Why didn’t I just tell him straight out that I hadn’t had a boyfriend in three years? And that I hadn’t gotten laid in—

I winced as I scooped coffee into the coffeemaker. No, I’d gotten laid just a couple of weeks ago. Though technically I could still claim that I hadn’t had a
man
in a while.

I dumped the water into the top of the machine and jammed the start button, then turned back to him. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the jamb with his hands in his pockets, watching me with an amused yet puzzled expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sore subject.”

I shook my head. “No. It’s not like that.” I tugged the belt a little tighter. “I just don’t like people coming out here. I don’t really like having visitors.” I realized after the words left my mouth how rude that had sounded.

But he didn’t seem to be at all fazed. His gaze traveled around the kitchen, taking in the spotless white tile, the yellow flowers painted near the ceiling, the matching towels, the copper trivets hung on the wall. “Well, you keep a nice neat house, even if you aren’t expecting company.”

I crossed my arms. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but this isn’t how this place usually looks.”

“Oh?” He arched an eyebrow at me. “So you
were
expecting visitors tonight?”

I hesitated. He obviously had knowledge of the arcane, and he seemed to be accepting of the concept of “demon summoning,” but that didn’t mean he knew about the kind of demons I dealt with and the kind of summonings that I performed. Summoners—my kind—weren’t exactly a dime a dozen. I’d never asked any of the demonic ilk, but I didn’t think there were more than a hundred or so in the entire world. Supposedly there’d been more a few centuries ago, but as the world had changed and evolved, knowledge of the arcane had gradually faded.

Best to play it safe. “No visitors,” I said. “I just try to make a point of cleaning up at least once a month. You caught me on a good day.”

“Ah,” he said. “I thought that maybe …” He trailed off, looking oddly discomfited. “Maybe what?”

He shrugged. “Well, you seemed to be pretty familiar with the concept of demons, and Demonic Lords. I thought that you might be, well …” He gave a self-conscious laugh. “I thought that maybe you were a summoner.”

Holy shit. He does know!
“Umm.” Oh, what the hell. “Okay, I am,” I said, before I could change my mind. “I’m a summoner. And … I was going to try to summon tonight.”

His face lit up and he pushed off the doorway. “Seriously? You are? You’re a summoner? Of demons? That’s too cool!” Then he grimaced deeply, shaking his head. “Shit. I can’t believe I just said that. Sorry. I sound like a teenager.”

I blinked, then grinned. “No, it’s okay. I’m pretty surprised you even know about summoners.”

He smiled ruefully. “I can understand that. It’s not a very common skill, or so I’ve heard. But with the kind of work I do and the cases I’ve seen, I’ve learned a bit about it.” Then his smile turned boyish. “And of course my grandmother used to tell me stories.”

“Was she a summoner?”

“No. At least, I don’t think so. I have a private theory that one of her parents was, and that’s where she got some of her ability to sense the arcane. But however she got it, by the time the ability trickled down to me it was pretty well watered down.” He shrugged, not seeming to be at all upset by the admission. “So you’re really going to summon a demon tonight?”

It was my turn to shrug. I busied myself with pouring coffee and setting out mugs. “I was thinking about it. I was going to see if I could get those runes identified. Cream and sugar?”

“One Equal, if you have it. I thought you could summon only on full moons.”

I handed him his mug. He knew more than I’d given him credit for. “Traditionally, yes. And the reason is that there’s just more arcane energy available. But if the convergence is high—as it is right now—summoning on the dark is possible if you’re only trying to hold a minor creature. And even though it’s not as potent, there’s more stability.”

He held his mug in both hands. “That’s what you’re going to summon? A minor demon?” He was trying to be calm and cool, but I could see the tightening of his hands on the mug and hear the edge of excitement in his voice.

“Yes … but I don’t think I’m going to now.”

His disappointment was palpable. “Oh. Why not?”

I couldn’t help but smile. He was being so very un-Fedlike—a radical departure from his demeanor when we first met. “Summonings require a great deal of preparation, even for a minor demon. And a lot of that preparation is mental.”

He winced. “And I’ve totally blown that out of the water. I’m very sorry. Now I understand why you discourage visitors.”

“It’s all right,” I said as I sat down at the table. “I can still summon tomorrow night. I had a … strange experience during my last summoning, so I’d rather not take any chances this time.”

He sat down opposite me. “What happened?”

I propped my chin on my hand and regarded him. “Is this Special Agent Kristoff asking?”

He laughed. “No. No, this is Ryan asking.”

Damn, but he did have some really nice eyes. And he was a lot cuter when he wasn’t being all FBI-ish. “I was attempting a summoning of a fairly ‘popular’ demon. He’s a lower demon, he’s summoned quite often, rarely if ever causes any trouble, and is pretty easy to bring through.”

“And he decided to act up this time?” he asked.

“Nope. He didn’t come through at all. Something else came through. Something incredibly powerful and a thousand times more dangerous. He destroyed my bindings and protections with a gesture.” I rubbed my arms, still chilled at the memory of that moment of terror. “And I still don’t know why he came through instead of Rysehl.”

He was quiet for a moment, brow slightly furrowed. “But you’re still alive,” he said finally. “How did you defeat him?”

I leaned back in the chair, rubbing my eyes. “I didn’t. It’s complicated, but he left without … um, harming me.” I certainly couldn’t say
without touching me
.

He ran a finger around the top of his mug, watching me. “What was it?”

“A Demonic Lord.”

His eyes narrowed. “I thought you said that they couldn’t be summoned.”

“Well, normally they can’t. And I didn’t summon him. He came through instead of the demon I
did
summon. And I don’t know how or why.” I made a face. “The ‘not knowing’ kinda bugs me.”

His gaze seemed to sharpen on me. “I think you should do it.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “You’re not the one who will get the chance to look at the pretty patterns your blood makes on the stone when it goes wrong.”

“Will you put it off again tomorrow?” His tone was challenging. “Knowing what those runes say could be vital to solving this case.”

I scowled, stung. “You think I don’t know that? I know we need to identify those runes, and I know that asking a demon is probably the best way to go about it. But I’m going to do it when I’m prepared, physically and mentally, and right now you’re
not
helping.”

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s not my place to tell you to do something that’s so dangerous. I wouldn’t ask a fellow agent to run after an armed man into a blind alley with no weapons or backup. And asking you to summon when you’re not prepared is no different. I guess it’s just the excitement of being so close to a summoning.” He hesitated. “Look, I don’t quite know how the protocols for these things work, but, er, is there any way I could be present for a summoning?” He looked at me hopefully.

“No.” My reply was flat, firm, and fast.

He gave a short laugh. “Okay, well, since you’ve had time to think about it and all …”

I shook my head. “Agent Kristoff—”

“Ryan, please.”

I took a deep breath. “Ryan, it’s not that I want to keep evidence or information from you. But it’s just too dangerous. And I have enough uncertainty right now with the botched summoning. The last thing I need is to have you—or anyone—as a distraction in the room. I’ve also never attempted to keep protections on myself and another person. The only times that I’ve summoned with another person in the room, the other person was a summoner and didn’t need me to provide protection.”

“It was worth a try,” he said with a smile. “You don’t get anywhere if you don’t try.”

I returned the smile. “I know what you mean.”

My hallway clock chimed midnight, and he cocked his head. “It is true that summonings have to be done by midnight?”

“No,” I said, “not at all. But it helps if they’re completed before sunrise, because everything gets a bit unstable when the potencies shift from lunar to solar. There are some rare summoners who work in the daytime, and they always try to finish before sunset. Same principle.”