Diana Rowland - Secrets of the Demon

I stepped toward the shadow where the zhurn lurked. “Skalz, what of her attacker?” I murmured.

A tendril of shadow slid forward and I heard something fall at my feet with a wet plop. “I retrieved a portion of it.” It spoke in a voice like crackling flame. I frowned and crouched, shining the flashlight down at what looked like an oozing clod of clay. I glanced back up at the demon. “Mud? She was attacked by mud?”

An odd noise came from Skalz as it straightened, and it took me about half a dozen heartbeats to realize it was laughing. I scowled, getting the unnerving feeling that it was laughing at me. “What?” I demanded, feeling rather petulant.

“It is a construct.”

“A what?” I was missing something here.

“A creature of inanimate matter given a semblance of life through arcane means.”

“You mean like a golem or something?”

“Yes,” it hissed. “A very similar creature. An arcane construct.”

“Oh.” I looked again at the blob in front of me, trying to visualize it in man form. I didn’t know diddly squat about golems other than what I’d read in the occasional storybook. Time to do more research, I thought with a mental sigh. “Okay, well, was it destroyed when it went into the river?”

“Such creations are durable, but it would likely sustain some damage,” it answered. “Feel. Look deeply.” Before I could move it seized my hand and plunged it into the depths of the yucky blob of mud.

Gross! was my first thought, but an instant later I could sense what the demon was talking about. The resonance I’d felt earlier washed over me so heavily I could almost taste it. the demon sent along the mental bindings.

Skalz released its grip on me and I stood up, shaking my hand to get the clinging mud off it and wishing I had something to wipe it off with. I’d remember that resonance though.

I glanced quickly around. Zack still had Lida a good distance away, and facing the other direction as well. Ryan and Knight were down near the street and I didn’t see anyone else nearby. Now was as good a time as any to send the demon back to its own sphere.

I drew in breath to begin the chant for the dismissal of the demon, then blew it right back out again in aggravation at the sound of more running footsteps. I looked back to see the keyboardist and bass player from the band hurrying over the railroad tracks toward us, along with Lida’s manager, Adam Taylor, huffing his way a few hundred yards behind them. I’d met Taylor earlier in the day during the planning for the stakeout, but I’d never met any of the others.

Crap. “A few more minutes, Skalz. My apologies.”

“I am in no rush, summoner,” the demon replied, voice crackling deeply. I couldn’t decide whether I preferred the mental voice or the spoken one. Both were incredibly unnerving. “I would discuss further matters with you before you return me to my sphere.” With that the demon slid back into the shadow and closed its eyes, disappearing completely into the blackness.

I couldn’t help but grimace. It never seemed to bode well when a demon had “matters” to discuss with me.

“Lida!” the keyboardist gasped, his face tear-streaked and contorted in anguish. Lida pulled away from Zack and nearly threw herself at the young man, but I realized she wasn’t seeking her own comfort.

“It’s okay, Michael,” she said, holding him close. “I’m all right. See? I’m just wet.” I gave Zack a questioning look and he silently mouthed her brother. Ah. Now his demeanor made a lot more sense.

“I . . . I should have done something—” Michael said, nearly hiccupping from his distress.

“Shh, no. Don’t think like that.” Lida spoke softly, reassurance thick in her voice as she tipped her head up to give her brother a comforting smile. She took him by the hand and led him to the bench, pushing him down to sit and then wrapping her arms around him again and pulling his head to her shoulder. “I’m all right.”

He seemed to calm as she held him and finally took a deep shuddering breath. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing you could have done,” Lida said, then gestured toward Zack and me. “The cops did their job and protected me. You were playing your music. Everyone did what they’re best at.” She smiled at him and he lifted his head to return the smile, expression open and painfully innocent. He looked slightly older than Lida, but it was clear that she was his protector.

Zack stepped back and then glanced to me as I approached. “Did you finish?” he murmured when I reached him.

I shook my head. “No, but it’s not like anyone can see it.”

“I tried to get Michael to stay at the club,” the bass player was saying to Lida, apology in his eyes. “But he wouldn’t listen to me.”

“It’s all right, Trey,” she said, sparing him a glance and a shaky smile. “I can’t imagine any way you could have made him stay other than sitting on him.”

Michael made a snorting sound. “I’m too big for him to sit on.”

I had to silently agree with that. Michael was tall and thick, while Trey was lanky and lean.

Lida grinned at him. “Maybe Roger could have.” She glanced up at Zack. “Roger’s the drummer—total muscle-head,” she explained. “Personal trainer, competes in local bodybuilding—”

“I’m too big for Roger too,” Michael said with what looked almost like a pout. “I’m strong!”

“Of course, Michael,” Lida said tiredly, patting his shoulder as if he was a child.

I sent another questioning glance to Zack, but this time he simply mouthed later, confirming my suspicion that Michael was somehow more challenged than most.

Her manager huffed up to us at that point, looking as if he was about to have the coronary I’d predicted earlier for myself. Adam Taylor’s face was flushed and the front of his tailored white shirt was plastered to his torso with sweat, even though there was a touch of early October chill in the air. I had the feeling that he’d run those nine block as fast as he was able.

Before meeting him I’d expected her manager to be a weasely man with oily hair, perhaps with a weak chin and dark beady eyes. Instead, he was actually fairly good looking, and anything but oily and weasely. He was probably in his early fifties, a few inches taller than me, with ginger hair touched with gray at the temples—giving him that perfect “distinguished” look. He still didn’t come anywhere close to touching the demonic lord Rhyzkahl in the looks department, but then again, there probably weren’t any humans who could.

Lida stood as Adam came to a stop before the little group. “You’re soaking wet!” he panted. “Are you all right?” He yanked his jacket off with shaking hands and hurriedly draped it around her shoulders, then turned to us, expression a mix of stark fear and naked relief. “What happened? Did you catch him? Who the hell was it?” He scrubbed a hand over his face as he swung back to Lida. “God almighty. I can’t believe this happened. I can’t believe you were thrown in the river. I never thought it would go this far. You could have died!”

“Adam!” Lida said, voice abruptly firm and hard. “I’m fine. It’s cool.” She flicked a glance toward Michael and I could clearly see the warning in her eyes that she didn’t want Adam to say anything that would upset her brother—who already looked as if he was about to start crying again.

“Agent Kristoff can give you further details,” I said in a lowered voice to Adam while Lida sat and put her arms around her brother again. “But her attacker fell into the river when he was attempting to throw her in. We were able to get Ms. Moran out, but we’ve yet to locate the other party.”