Diana Rowland - Touch of the Demon

Kinda like what I’d already done. My right thumb kept creeping over to where my middle finger met my palm, feeling the absence of the ring as if I’d lost a part of me.

I guess I’d had a hidden fantasy that once we talked openly, everything would sort itself out and somehow be okay again. Yeah. That happened. Why did he have to screw everything up by tricking me?

I stripped off my robe, threw it onto a chaise, and dove into the pool. I didn’t count laps, simply focused on my strokes and the rhythm of the turn at each end, yet still my mind whirled. With Mzatal’s bullshit dumped on top of Rhyzkahl’s treachery, and the Four Mraztur targeting me, I now had five lords on my shit list and could say with conviction, lords suck .

Even as I thought it, I knew lumping Mzatal with the others wasn’t fair. But damn it, he’d consciously duped me. I told myself it wasn’t the end of the world that we weren’t BFFs anymore, but it just felt wrong , like a series of sigils with the harmonics off. And I was at an impasse, unable to do anything about it.

I pushed hard off the wall, stroked savagely for the other end. I’d survived a lot of shit before. I could get through this. All of it: recovering from the torture, learning the shikvihr, getting Szerain’s blade, being the target of the Four Mraztur, Mzatal’s distance. I could do it. Yeah, it would’ve been better in all sorts of ways with Mzatal’s close support, but oh-fucking-well.

The anger wasn’t helping and neither was thinking. I kept swimming until I didn’t have to think anymore.

By the time I stopped, my muscles burned and trembled, but the fury was gone and my thoughts were clearer. I rested my forehead on the stone at the end and closed my eyes. Yep. My plate was piled high with shit, no doubt about that, but I had a choice. I could easily slide into the torture-fractured, barely-glued-together woman that haunted me—and, thanks to Rhyzkahl, days like this made it hard not to cave in to her. Or I could get my act together, play at being whole, and focus on clearing my plate, with or without Mzatal. Time to get your head back in the game .

I pushed away from the wall, stroked over to the rock steps and relocated to a side pool fed by a hot spring. A sigh escaped me as I eased into the water. I draped my arms on the edge and tipped my head back to look up at the mid-morning sky through the thick glass of the ceiling. The shikvihr stood between me and home, and was a tool to use against the Mraztur. No point in wasting time. I began a methodical mental review of the first ring.

A shift of movement caught my attention. I lifted my head to see Vahl gracefully climbing down from the rocks, eyes on me. I quickly got out of the pool, realizing too late that he was between me and my robe. I silently cursed, then sighed, wishing I’d grabbed a tank suit rather than a two piece. Though surely Vahl wouldn’t do anything untoward under Mzatal’s roof. Besides, I reminded myself, he’d been damn near a gentleman when I’d stopped his kiss the other day.

I straightened and lifted my chin as he approached. A light smile played across his lips, but when his gaze dropped to my torso the smile faded to nothing. He could see the sigils more clearly now. All of them, except for the parts that were covered by the bikini.

“How long have you been here watching me?” I asked, watching him with narrowed eyes.

His eyes traveled over my body, down, then up, then down again, as if reading and memorizing every aspect of each sigil. “I was here when you arrived,” he said, not looking at my face.

“Like them?” I asked bitterly. “Rhyzkahl has a future in body art.”

He stepped closer, eyes still traveling over the sigils. “Turn around.” It wasn’t a request.

I hesitated, then complied. Even in Mzatal’s realm, he was still a demonic lord, and I’d learned my lesson about needlessly antagonizing any of them.

He pulled the ties at my neck and back before I could even twitch. The top fell to the stone as I swallowed hard and clenched my hands. He wouldn’t be foolish enough to assault me here, right? At least I hoped not.

Vahl walked around me, stopping in front, eyes on my breasts but with no lust reflected in them. He set the heel of his hand near my nipple with his fingers pointed toward my throat, and closed his eyes. I sucked in my breath, and a shiver raced over my skin, but he didn’t seem to notice. After a moment, he lifted his hand, then set two fingers on the sigil that started below my throat. Rhyzkahl’s. A shudder ran through him as he lightly traced it, yet he didn’t stop until he completed the symbol.

“What are you doing?” I asked, voice unsteady.

He finally looked up into my face, fingers still on the sigil. “Do you feel them?”

My eyes narrowed in a frown. “No. They’re scars. That’s all they are to me.”

He shifted to trace a sigil that twined around my nipple, eyes on my face. Revulsion and fascination coiled together in his expression. “ Rhyzkahl did this,” he said, as though really taking it in for the first time.

Goosebumps rose on my skin. “Yes. Carved them with an essence blade, then tortured me to fire each one,” I said, amazed that I could speak without my voice shaking. Eyes still on his, I lowered my head and called up the memory of the torture. He wanted to know? I was more than happy to give him the gory details.

He dropped his hand and stepped back, shaking his head.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “He did this.”

Indecision clouded his expression, though I couldn’t imagine why. He drew a deep breath, shook his head again, then looked to me with an uncompromising gaze. “Go find Mzatal.”

“Huh? Why?”

His eyes unfocused briefly as if he was listening to something, then snapped back to mine. “Run, Kara. Find Mzatal. Now! ”

I took a step back from him, then turned and snatched up my bikini top and robe. I was two steps from the entryway when I felt the grove activate. I sucked a breath in and whirled to look at Vahl.

“Rhyzkahl,” I breathed. Vahl’s expression didn’t change. He sure as shit didn’t look surprised.

I quickly yanked on my robe and fled to find Mzatal.

Mzatal was descending the stairs as I rushed into the atrium, his shirt and face spattered with blood from a nosebleed.

“Rhyzkahl arrived in the grove,” he said with dark intensity as he approached. “I have cast him back and bound the blades so that he cannot use his, but this also means I cannot use mine. And he will return.”

Belting my robe more securely around me, I stopped at the base of the stairs and looked up at him. “What do you need me to do?”

“Seek Idris in the summoning chamber. He lays support,” he said as he passed. “Shield yourself. Draw all that you are able from the grove.”

I started up the steps, then paused. No. That wasn’t right. I knew it in my essence. I couldn’t simply cower and hide and shield myself. I pivoted back to Mzatal. “I’m going with you.”

He stopped and turned to me, mouth drawn to a tight line. “It is Rhyzkahl ,” he said. “And I do not wish to risk you while there is a safer alternative.”

“Yeah. And I don’t want to hide in a corner and hope for a good outcome,” I said, eyes narrowed. “I can shield near the grove as well as in here. Maybe better. So I don’t think it’s safer.”

“Kara,” he said with urgent intensity, as he backed down the corridor. “I will be in open conflict and unable to adequately protect you.” He shook his head. “Rhyzkahl’s initial attack and my counter drained most of my reserves, and he is near untouched.”