Diana Rowland - Touch of the Demon

My hands shook as I took the water, but I managed to drink some before handing it back to him. “Idris, at this point, what do I have to lose? If I roll over, I’m dead. Might as well let him believe I have a spine.” I met his eyes. “Remember, fake bravery is better than none at all.”

“Yeah, but…” He shook his head. “I mean, that’s Mzatal!”

I let out a breathless laugh. “And I’m Kara . And you’re Idris .”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.” He glanced at my leg, grimaced. “I mean, more than you already are.”

“I’m at his mercy, Idris,” I said quietly. “He doesn’t need a reason to hurt me. I might as well show that I won’t go down without at least the semblance of a fight.”

“Yeah. Shit.” He sighed. “I don’t think I could be like you.”

I snorted. “Of course not. You should be like you , but the best you you can be.” I frowned. “Not sure that made any sense, but hopefully you get the idea.”

“It kinda made sense. I guess,” he said, though his forehead puckered in mild confusion.

Gestamar returned carrying a mug. He moved to my side and held it out for me. I took it warily and sniffed the watery green contents. It reminded me of freshly mowed grass but didn’t smell vile or anything, which surprised me. I was certain Mzatal would find a way to make any meds he gave me utterly nasty.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the mug. “I should drink all of this?”

“As much as you can,” he rumbled. “Mzatal requested this amount.”

I took a deep breath and began to chug it down, then had to stop, nearly gagging. Smell was definitely no way to judge. “Holy…gah! That’s like drinking a diaper.”

The reyza crouched. “If you do not drink it, it will not help with the pain.”

I didn’t even bother scowling. This was another test or torment, depending on point of view. Steeling myself, I managed to chug the rest of it down. The nasty shit had better kick the pain’s ass. Shuddering, I handed the empty mug back to Gestamar. “Idris, water, please .”

He pressed a glass into my hand. I drank, but it didn’t seem to do much good. Fuck Mzatal , I thought sourly. What the hell was Idris doing with this asshole?

“If you’re here fostering with this lord, then doesn’t that mean you’re pretty hot shit in some way?” I asked Idris,

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess I do okay with the summoning stuff.”

I took another drink of water in a futile attempt to clear the slimy vile taste from my mouth, then gave Idris a sharp look. “Wait. You do ‘okay’? Do you really believe that?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You summoned me , damn it. You’re more than ‘okay’ if you managed that.” I sighed, shook my head. “Idris, it’s okay to be proud of the shit you can do well. Trust me, there are plenty of people more than ready to tear you down. Why give them a headstart?”

He stared at me, then flushed. “Yeah, I did good with that,” he said, smiling with—at last—a touch of pride. “It was hard.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going down without a fight.”

Movement in the doorway caught my eye, and I did a double take as an ilius coiled into the room. The waist-high demon curled and spiraled within a haze of confusing multicolored smoke. Flashes of teeth, or an eye, or sinuous body appeared and disappeared seemingly at random. I’d summoned an ilius a few times before, finding them very useful as trackers in my police work, kind of like a demon version of a bloodhound. I didn’t know much about them except that they consumed essence as their sustenance and, according to Rhyzkahl, didn’t have a taste for humans. I’d always sated them on nutria as payment for their services, and they seemed content enough. Though the thing didn’t appear to touch the floor at all, it was definitely more substantial and colorful than the ones I’d summoned to Earth.

“Um…Idris? Why is there an ilius in here?” I asked as the demon drift-coiled its way to the balcony.

Idris glanced over at the creature then back to me. “That’s just Dakdak looking for Mzatal. Well, not actually looking for him,” he said. “Since the ilius is here, it means Mzatal will most likely arrive within a minute or two. I don’t mind. It’s kinda like an early warning system.” He grinned.

That was just too damn funny, and I laughed outright, though it may have had something to do with the shit I just drank. “So you’re telling me big bad Mzatal has a pet ilius named Dakdak he hangs with?” I lifted the glass for another cleansing drink of water.

“Yeah. Four close ones actually—Dakdak, Krum, Tata, and Wuki—and a bunch more that just hang out at his place. They’re not pets though.”

I snorted water out my nose, laughing so hard it hurt. “Tata? And…Wuki?” I managed to gasp out. Then the room abruptly tilted. I dropped my head back and clutched at the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Idris asked, aflutter again.

“I think—” I shook my head, instantly regretting it. “The green shit works,” I slurred, right before the world fell away.

Morning sun slanted onto the bed through the broad windows, waking me. I groaned and rolled onto my side, then blinked, suddenly fully awake.

That didn’t hurt.

Sitting up, I tugged off the blanket to look at my leg—my unsplinted and undamaged leg. Relief flooded me, near dizzying in its intensity. Mzatal must have indeed followed the ilius into the room and completed the healing. Whether he had a change of heart or had simply been fucking with me, at this point I didn’t care. The important thing for now was that my leg was still there and, apparently, as good as new.

A quick assessment of the rest of me revealed that not only was everything else healed up, but I was also clean and wearing different clothing.

“Now that’s a nice health care plan,” I murmured, sliding a hand over the spot on my torso that had so recently housed a tree branch. Not even a scar remained to show it had ever happened.

I startled as Jekki and Faruk burst into the room without knocking, carrying a mug and a plate that they placed on the side table. “Eat! Drink! Leave soon!” they burbled in unison, and then were gone in a swirl of blue fur and tails.

My smile faded and my gut clenched at the thought of going to Mzatal’s realm, but I went ahead and drank the chak and ate the—. Okay, I had no idea what it was and thought it might be better that way. It looked like a plate of cat turds drizzled with mustard, but had a texture like biting into a grape and a meaty taste with a zing of sweet spice. Totally weird but yummy. As soon as I was finished, Gestamar stepped into the room, almost as if he’d been waiting.

“It is time,” he said, deep voice resonating. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought he was trying to sound ominous. I obediently followed him down to the entry corridor where Mzatal waited. The lord gave me an up and down assessing look but said nothing. I didn’t know if he was checking out his healing skills or what. The lord confounded me, running cold to lukewarm, though the undercurrent of I-can-kill-you-any-time-I-want-to sort of put a damper on anything beyond cold.

Gestamar kept a hand on my upper arm as we headed through the south doors and outside. What’d they think I was going to do? Make a break for it? We stopped while Mzatal closed the doors and laid a shitload of wards, then he led the way down the path with long strides. He wasn’t wearing the Armani; today the outfit was black pants, black boots, and a crimson knee-length coat, intricately embroidered in gold around the cuffs and hem. The suit was a good look for him, but so was this.