Diana Rowland - Touch of the Demon

“Yes,” he said with a nod and a quick smile. I had the feeling we were in his element, something he actually enjoyed. “We seek the bridge between theory and practical application.” He rapidly traced a line of eleven floaters in front of us. “What do you see as the commonality between these three sections?” he asked, indicating the sections, then glancing at me.

Damn. A test. I examined the series and, to my relief, found a small link. “Well, the lateral vectors correlate.”

His mouth drew into a tight line, and his brow furrowed. Crap. That obviously wasn’t the answer he was looking for. I had a feeling my answer was about as dumb as saying that the commonality between a group of typed words was that the ink was black. With a pass of his hand along the line, he ignited the sigils, then moved behind me. “This may help you to see more clearly. Pygah with your eyes closed and feel the series. Then open your eyes and see what correlations you find.”

I felt as if I’d been handed an exam I hadn’t studied for, and it must have shown.

Mzatal laid his hand briefly on my shoulder. “This is not a test, Kara. I know that I am missing an aspect, and I want to determine what you can see in order to fill that gap.”

Well, that was a new one. With a slight frown, I moved to the exact center of the line of sigils and followed Mzatal’s instructions, very aware of his presence behind me. I extended my senses and felt into the series, then opened my eyes, finding it more vibrantly clear now. I smiled, feeling not only the common harmony between the sections, but the delicate relationships between individual sigils. “It’s not really about the sections. Each sigil is connected to every other sigil, some doubly so.”

Mzatal stepped up beside me, clasped his hands behind his back, and squinted at the line. “Show me.”

I saw Idris watching a couple of feet from the edge of the platform, frowning slightly, hair dripping seawater.

Was this part of some strange game Mzatal was playing? Except it sure felt sincere. I traced several of the sigil strands with my index finger. “See? These are the doubles. And here are the singles,” I said, as I pointed them out. “They have a different resonance that feels…off.”

Mzatal narrowed his eyes, leaned in, and examined the series for at least a full minute, deeply absorbed. With a sudden intake of breath, he straightened, nodding. “Yes. Excellent.” He made some adjustments to the line. “And now?”

I’d followed the feel of what he did and was already trying to figure out how to say in words what I sensed. I gestured to the sigil on the end. “That one,” I said, shaking my head, “is the wrong, um, hue?” Damn it. That wasn’t right.

The lord peered at the sigil, then shook his head definitively. “I do not see it,” he said. “It would clarify for me if I read it directly through you.”

I tensed involuntarily, though I knew it was the best way for him to see what I couldn’t explain. And at least he asked. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

He laid his hand on my shoulder, nothing more. “Now show me.”

I examined the sigil carefully, feeling into the slight discordance of the hue. My nails bit into the palms of my clenched hands, though I couldn’t even feel a whisper of his presence. Apparently looking through me wasn’t the same as reading me.

Mzatal remained still for a bit, then muttered something in demon. A moment later he lifted his hand from my shoulder. “I have it,” he said. He made a quick adjustment, then spun the line into a ring around us. “You completed the series,” he said, turning fully to me with a smile.

I exhaled in relief that he was out of my head, and echoed his smile with a slight one of my own. But the mild discomfort twitched up another notch. I’d given him something he couldn’t get without me. He’d said he would use me. Was I falling into his trap? “Guess I’m not totally hopeless,” I said lightly.

“Kara Gillian, you are far from hopeless,” he said with a shake of his head. “Now you have but to ignite it.”

Right. Ignite it. I rubbed sweaty palms on my pants. This wasn’t Rhyzkahl. Mzatal and I had an agreement. Get over it , I told myself. So far there was nothing to indicate that Mzatal intended to screw me over. I took a deep breath, lifted my hand, and sent a focused burst of potency to the ring. Its resonance struck me in a dissonant wave as it ignited, off just enough to be uncomfortable.

Mzatal turned in a circle, examining the ring. “Perfect. This is our foundation,” he said, nodding approval. “Now, bring it into alignment and see if you can attain full resonance.”

I made adjustments and brought the alignment as far as I could. The resonance improved, but remained unsettling and definitely not right.

Mzatal had his shoulders drawn up; obviously, he enjoyed the discordance as much as I did. “More, Kara. Slide the anchoring until the harmonics align, then you will have it.”

I gritted my teeth and tried to make the adjustments, took it a little farther, but no. Grimacing, I withdrew from the series. “It’s not…” I shook my head. “No. It’s not right. It’s not working.”

Mzatal exhaled, and though I wasn’t looking at him, I felt his eyes on me. “Take it down,” he said.

Annoyance and frustration seared through me, and a zillion thoughts consumed my mind, even though I knew most were irrational. Why the hell couldn’t I do this one stupid little thing? And who the hell gave these lords the right to fuck with my life? My life. Everything had been fine until the asshole lords got involved.

I grounded the ring, then dispelled it with several arm sweeps that felt more like attacks than artistry. At least I could do that much right. Without looking at Mzatal, I turned and stalked to the edge of the platform, then stepped down onto the sand.

Idris hurried over. “It’s okay,” he said. “You almost had it.” He gave me a you’ll-get-it-next-time smile that made me want to slug him, but I knew none of it was his fault. Except that I was here at all. Yeah, that.

I gave him a tight smile and moved off a bit. All I wanted was to be by myself. Hugging my arms around me, I stared out at the ocean, unsettled, annoyed, and angry .

“Idris,” Mzatal said from somewhere behind me. “Proceed with the stabilization of the nexus in preparation for the full foundation. I do not know when we will be ready, though, ideally, by the next full moon on Earth.”

Didn’t know when we would be ready because I couldn’t do my part. Fuck.

“Kara, we will return home and continue our work tomorrow,” he said with irritating calm. “Take the stairs. Stop at each switchback and count to one hundred twenty-one, then continue.”

Blinking in disbelief, I turned fully on him. He stood with his hands locked behind his back and face set in impassive judgment. “Not my home,” I retorted, damn near snarling it. “And count? Like, count out loud to one twenty-one?” I looked over at the stairs that zigzagged up the five-hundred foot cliff. Punishment for messing up the ritual thing. I hate this shit.

“It is not necessary to speak,” he said. “It is necessary to acknowledge each number.”

“Sure,” I said tightly. “No problem.” Yeah, this was turning into a lovely shittastic day.

“End the count with a pygah,” he added, then turned and strode toward Ilana. I stared at his back and bit back a choice reply. Idris walked the perimeter of the nexus over and over, oblivious to the bullshit taking place in my world.

I pivoted and stalked to the stairs, looked up and shook my head. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered. They rose steeply, cut from the basalt itself or built out where needed. Narrow. No rail. Great.