Diana Rowland - Touch of the Demon

I started up, thighs complaining even before I reached the first switchback. Back home, stair climbing was pretty much limited to my basement and porch steps, with all others avoided unless absolutely necessary. Upon reaching the turn, I stopped and did the stupid count and pygah, then peered over the edge. It was already a looong way down. Idris, shirtless now, traced in the center of the nexus, surrounded by a growing ring of sigils. Damn, but he made it look so easy.

Up. And more up. On the fourth switchback, I stopped to catch my breath, hands on my hips, thighs burning like crazy. I looked up and immediately realized that ignorance was indeed bliss. Still a helluva long way to the top. Shit! I tried to nurse the anger, but it slid away to a simmer, my body demanding the lion’s share of my attention. A glimpse of blue caught my attention from a couple of switchbacks up. Possibly a faas heading down, I figured.

I leaned back against the cliff, both to rest a bit and to keep well away from the edge since, at this point, it was like being on a ledge of a twenty-story building. I had a healthy respect for though not a particular fear of heights, but this was definitely pushing the envelope.

I took a deep breath, did the count and the pygah. When I opened my eyes, Faruk hopped down the last few steps to my switchback and stood vibrating before me, a plastic sports bottle—very obviously from Earth—clutched between its hands.

“Tunjen for youuuuuuu, Kara Gillian,” the faas said, holding the bottle out to me.

“Thanks,” I said with an unsteady smile, realizing how much I really needed this right now. Faruk hopped up and down, teeth bared, then ran up the stairs on all six legs as though running on flat ground. For a second, I considered sitting, then decided against it. The way this day was going, it’d be against the rules, and I’d have to do the whole thing over or something stupid like that. Sighing, I lifted the bottle to drink and saw it had my name painted on it in delicate gold letters. I couldn’t help but smile a bit at that.

Reluctantly, I shoved off the wall and tackled the stairs again, thighs seriously shrieking. Walking tomorrow was going to be fun. I hate this shit .

On the last switchback, I sat heavily on a step, panting. My legs were shredded, so sitting and counting really slowly felt like the best plan. Screw the consequences. To my great annoyance, as I finished my count and pygah, Idris bounded up from below, grinning and sweating.

“Best view ever!” he said as he dropped into a squat beside me and began a quiet and methodical count.

“Yeah. Great view,” I muttered, giving him a doubtful look. With a groan I couldn’t suppress, I heaved myself to my feet and continued up the last section. I kept close to the wall, thankful that there was only a light breeze and no gusts. Holy shit, but this was seriously high.

“Kara! Hug the wall,” Idris called out from below. “I’ll be passing on the left.”

“Yeah. No problem there, dude.” I pressed my back against the wall to make absolutely sure I was out of the way, not at all liking the thought of getting knocked off these stairs.

Idris, the bastard, dashed up the steps, sometimes two at a time, obviously familiar with their varying heights. He passed me with a stopwatch in his hand and his face set with fierce determination and focus.

Frowning, I watched until he reached the top, my emotions churning between admiration and feeling even more inadequate. My throat went horribly tight. I sank to sit on a step and looked out over the ocean. I tried to hold it back, tried not to be a baby, but I couldn’t. There was too much. I gave in and let it flow in a full blown sob-fest. Lonely. Homesick. Missing everyone. Totally stressed out. Betrayed. Recovering from torture. Stuck here. Unsure of where I stood. All of it came up.

After several minutes I finally got my shit somewhat together and wiped my eyes. Letting out a long sigh, I dragged myself up and somehow managed to finish the climb, subdued and with everything hurting. To my dismay, as I reached the top, I saw Idris hurrying toward me. My eyes burned and felt swollen. Damn it . I sighed and plastered on a smile. Maybe it would pass for just being flushed from exercise.

But no. He moved in close, brow deeply creased with worry. “Um, Kara, you okay?”

“I’m good,” I said, plodding up the trail toward the palace without stopping. “Tired. That’s all. Lots of stairs, and I’m an out of shape clod.”

“Yeah. It’s a lot of stairs. You did great making it to the top!” He hovered beside me, a spring in his step as if he hadn’t recently bounded up, what, fifty plus stories?

I knew he didn’t mean it to be as patronizing as it sounded, but damn. “Yeah, yeah. Thanks,” I managed. “So, uh, Mzatal does this kind of thing a lot? Assigning exercise?”

“Yeah, he did at first for me,” Idris replied with a shrug. “I pretty much do it on my own now, though he’ll still come up with stuff sometimes.”

“You look like you’re in pretty good shape.” My legs didn’t want to move, but I trudged on. I didn’t want to lose what little momentum I had.

“I wasn’t when I got here,” he said. “I mean, I wasn’t a slug or anything since Katashi kept me moving, but it really took off once I came to the demon realm.” He peered anxiously at me. “You wanna sit down for a bit? There’s a bench up ahead, and the sunset’s gonna be awesome.”

Even as wiped out as I was, I still had enough perception to know that sitting down with Idris and watching the sunset would probably send the wrong message. “No. Thanks. If I stop, I’ll never get moving again. I just want to get back and collapse.”

“Um, yeah. Sure,” he said, visibly losing a little of his spring and looking crestfallen. “It’s not much farther.”

“Thanks,” I said. I really wished he would go on without me, but I couldn’t come up with a damned thing to say that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

Idris continued at my side, almost saying something several times, then, thankfully, not. Once we reached the atrium, he finally showed signs of going his own way. “I, uh, guess I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

“Yeah. Thanks for walking with me.” I gave him a tired smile. “See ya, Idris,” I said as I turned for the stairs. More goddamn stairs. Yay.

“Bye, Kara,” he called out, and I could feel his eyes still on me.

I gave a final unenthusiastic wave without looking back and sighed in relief as I got out of his sight. And, even better, in another minute I’d be able to Stop Walking.

Mzatal sat at the table in the main chamber of his rooms, leafing through a journal. He’d changed from the black into a roomy blue brocade coat, and looked totally refreshed, his braid hanging over his shoulder now wound with silver instead of gold. The fucker.

He set the journal aside as I closed the door and gave me a gentle smile. “A long soak will feel good. Food will be waiting when you are finished.”

Something about the cover of the journal gave me a déjà vu memory moment, but I couldn’t place it and was too damn tired to try to figure it out right then. I gave Mzatal a faint nod and headed straight to the bath chamber, shedding my clothes along the way. I sank to my neck in the deliciously warm water of the pool, then pulled myself onto the shelf that served for lounging and rested my head in the smooth dip made for that purpose. I didn’t want to fall asleep, I told myself as I closed my eyes, just rest a bit.

I jerked awake to my name being called and a hand on my shoulder. Mzatal. “Shit.”

Mzatal crouched at the edge of the pool, holding a towel spread before him, ready for me.