Diana Rowland - Fury of the Demon

A few minutes later, Zack crouched beside me. “Kara, I’m here. Ryan will be here in a minute.”

“I’m fine,” I insisted, shivering. “I’m cool.”

“You are sooo fine, and the coolest,” Zack said, light tone tinged with worry. “It’s why Ryan is coming to see you.”

I gave a nod. “Yeah. Sure,” I said. “This is wrong .” Terror flared, and I gasped out a whimper. I backed off and did my best to keep dancing.

I heard the door, then Ryan’s voice. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Zack stood. “Kara ran into some trouble with Farouche,” he told Ryan. “You know how you do the memory shift thing? I think she needs help like that. He’s got some sort of fear compulsion bullshit going on with her. You up for giving it a try?”

My nails dug into my palms as I clenched my hands hard. “Hurry,” I said, then hissed through my teeth and squeezed my eyes shut. This was nothing, nothing , compared to what Rhyzkahl had done to me. I silently repeated that over and over, still barely able to hold on against the rising tide of fear.

“Damn right I’ll try.” Ryan shoved the coffee table out of the way and helped me sit up, then crouched in front of me and took my head between his hands in a firm grip. “Hang in there, Kara,” he said. His eyes locked on mine, and a heartbeat later his face went stony, and his jaw tightened. Ryan couldn’t read minds—if he could, Zack wouldn’t let him anywhere near me since he’d pick up the truth about Ryan/Szerain—but he could feel into a person and muddle recent memories. Ryan considered it a quirky talent. In reality it was a hint of Szerain’s mind reading and manipulation ability that bled through. The hope intruded that Szerain could surface enough to actually neutralize this, yet terror followed close in its wake.

I gripped Ryan’s wrists and gave a half-hearted tug. “I’m fine!”

“Hold still, damn it,” he said, mouth tight in concentration. “This is . . . I don’t know.”

Sick fear rose, and I tried harder to pull his hands away. “No. I’m okay. Really.”

Wasn’t I?

Vertigo struck as a fragment of the dream flooded me. I threw my arms wide as my inner world tipped, and I lost my footing on the plain of glass.

Memory whispered like falling sand.

Rowan .

“Kara!” Zack said forcefully. “ Kara . Be still.” His voice cut through the fear and the dance and the dream and all of the bullshit. I dropped my hands to my sides, clenched them in the fabric of the couch.

Ryan shifted his grip. “You’re not okay. This doesn’t feel right. I don’t understand what it is, but I’m going to try to make it feel like . . . you. Do your best to relax.”

I unclenched my hands and tried to focus on something, anything besides fear or not-fear or the horrible sense of my Self sliding into oblivion. The cat hissed at me again. Fuzzykins. I could focus on our mutual-hate relationship. I closed my eyes, imagined a world without cats who wanted to claw my face off.

The next thing I knew, Ryan withdrew his hands from my head. “That feels better to me now,” he said. I opened my eyes to see him peering at me critically. “How are you doing?”

I shook my head to clear it. The cat wasn’t on the sofa anymore. “Wow. That was totally bizarre.” Frowning, I rubbed my temples. “It’s still there, but not at all like before.”

Ryan sat beside me. “What the hell happened?”

I gave him the rundown about the roadblock and the conversation with Farouche. “Ryan, it was crazy. There was one time when it seemed as if he read my thoughts, but mostly it was like he could tell whether or not I was telling the truth, and he narrowed my answers down to what he wanted to know.” I shook my head. “All that’s bad enough, but he has this fear thing going on too. When he told me to call him when Thatcher and Paul got back, the mere thought of disobeying him was utterly terrifying.” I rubbed at my temples. “It’s still there, but muffled. I can handle it, at least for now.”

“That sounds like what Paul and Mzatal told you about,” he said. “I didn’t really get it before, but damn, it really had you.”

“Looks like Farouche’s halo is pretty fucking tarnished,” I said.

“He’s very dangerous,” Zack agreed. “Now that you’re stable, I’m going to go back and finish my perimeter inspection.”

“Thanks, Zack,” I said. “I have some things I need to talk to you about. I’ll check in with you in a bit.”

He gave me a nod and disappeared out the door.

“Are you going to be all right?” Ryan asked, concern in his eyes.

I gave him a reassuring nod. “That shook me up, but I’m good now. I’ll call if anything else comes up.” I slanted a look over to Eilahn. “Or Eilahn will. She doesn’t listen to me when I’m acting all crazy.” The syraza returned the look with a smugly pleased one of her own.

Ryan snorted. “You mean most of the time then.”

Laughing, I snatched up the sofa cushion and smacked him with it. “You’d better get back to work, fed boy.”

“There are better ways to get attention you know,” he said with a grin, then wisely fled the house before I could hurl the pillow at him.

I took some time to take care of a few mundane household tasks, both to settle myself and to see if any weird feelings or sensations cropped up. All seemed fairly normal, and since I didn’t feel a sudden burning need to betray anyone who depended on me, I went out to look for Zack.

I found him busily reworking wards by the back fence beyond the pond. Since I had three hot topics to pursue with him—the attempted raid, Farouche’s assault on me, and Tessa’s weird behavior—I decided to get the least disturbing out of the way first.

“Hey,” I said as I sauntered up, “you find out anything more about how they tried to get in?”

Zack glanced back at me. “Not a lot. There were five of them, judging by the tracks outside the fence.” His mouth tightened. “They managed to get within about ten feet which means they were determined enough to work through the aversions.”

“It sucks ass to be under attack at my own house,” I said with a scowl. I moved up to the fence and peered at the intricate ward. “Farouche isn’t playing around. And meanwhile, Katashi has Idris who the hell knows where.”

Zack continued to trace arcane sigils, fluidly weaving them into protective wards. “I have a bad feeling it’ll get worse before everything settles down . . . oh, in a few hundred years or so.”

I groaned. “I’m going to pretend you’re kidding even if you aren’t.” The demonic lords and the demahnk were several thousand years old, which meant it was possible Zack was being completely serious. “It feels as if we’ve done nothing but chase leads and put out fires since I got back,” I said. “I haven’t had the chance to thank you for the fence and gate, and all the improvements in the house.” I smiled wryly. “I admit, I had a moment where it bugged me, but I got over it. Anyway, I really appreciate it, and I know all this must have cost you a fortune.”

Zack laughed and began another ward. “Yes, it did, but you don’t need to worry about that. I have my ways. Not unlimited ways, but we’re good for now.”

Too weird. A demon masquerading as a human with a trust fund. “The fence is awesome,” I said, “but I wish we’d been able to get a look at the intruders. What do you think about a camera surveillance system for the perimeter?”

“I think it’s needed.” He smiled. “And no, I don’t mind footing the bill. I can handle it.”

“Farouche is a confident, aggressive son of a bitch. I wouldn’t put it past him to try again.” A touch of fear whispered through me as I spoke of him. I breathed through it and used it as a segue to the second hot topic. “He didn’t even touch me. How the hell could he affect me so heavily?”