Diana Rowland - Blood of the Demon

“Why?” I persisted. “Does someone want him dead? Is that why that kzak was pushed through the portal? To get him?”

His crystal-blue gaze speared me. “When did you encounter a kzak?”

“A week ago, I think. Was it after him?” Or me? I added silently.

His expression remained inscrutable. “I cannot answer that.”

I scowled. I was definitely over the wanting-to-cry part. Now I was into the annoyed-at-being-in-the-dark part. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Let us get back to the matter at hand, shall we?” he said. He stood and strode to me, then cupped my chin in his hand and tilted it up so he could look down into my face. “You wish to have the threat this woman poses eliminated, and you wish Ryan Kristoff to be spared from this threat.”

“Yes.” I couldn’t really nod with his hand under my chin.

“Yet you also wish to protect your world, your realm, from the chance that an arcane creature of my power would despoil it for his own gain.”

“Yes.”

He released my chin and took a step back, to my relief. He was a lot taller, and I was getting a crick in my neck. He clasped his hands behind his back and regarded me, a thoughtful expression on his face. “If this creature consumes Ryan Kristoff, there is little doubt that she would proceed to then destroy you.” It didn’t sound as if he was hoping for any sort of response, more as if he was working out a problem. I wished I had a clue as to what the problem was. I kept silent and waited for him to get to the damn point.

He was silent for several more heartbeats. “I have an interest in you and would prefer that you were not harmed by this creature.” Then he nodded, as if satisfied with some internal debate. “You will summon me to your world no less than once every turning of the moon around your earth for the next three of your world’s years. Upon being summoned, I will remain no longer than half of one day, unless additional terms are set at the time of the summoning. During that time in your world, I will do nothing with the intent of causing you harm or that acts against your own code of honor without your leave.”

I quickly ran through what he’d said. Once a month for the next three years, for no more than half a day. “My code of honor includes obeying the judicial laws that apply to me. I would have you obey them to the same degree, unless I indicate otherwise.”

He inclined his head. “Agreed. In return, I will remove the threat that this woman poses to you and to those you hold dear.” I thought his lip curled in derision, but if so the expression was a brief one.

“And you will also agree,” I said, straightening my shoulders, “on all subsequent summonings of your person, to answer no less than three questions that I ask of you, to the best of your ability.”

A faint smile curved the corner of his mouth, as if pleased at my temerity to bend the negotiation to my favor, even if only by a few millimeters. “One question.”

“Two.”

“Done. These are terms that I can and will abide by.”

I let my breath out. “These are terms that I can and will abide by,” I echoed. And, to my relief, they were.

“Give me your hand, Kara.”

I extended my right hand, but he shook his head and reached for my left, turning it palm up. A knife abruptly appeared in his hand, a wicked and evil-looking artifact, with a blade that shimmered with an oily blue sheen and a handle covered in spikes that thrust between his fingers as he gripped it. The thought flashed through me that a careless grasp on that knife would be a painful experience. A dark-blue jewel capped the pommel with a dull light that seemed to flicker sluggishly from its depths.

A spasm of abject terror shot through me at the sight of the knife, for no reason that I could name. But before I could yank my hand back, Rhyzkahl tightened his hold and pulled my arm straight, then slid the knife across my forearm, perfectly following the thin scar on my arm from where I’d cut my own flesh to summon Kehlirik. A hideous wave of cold nausea swept through me at the touch of the blade, but it was gone as soon as the metal was no longer in contact with my flesh. I watched the blood well up from the shallow slice, then looked up at Rhyzkahl in time to see him make a similar slice on his own forearm. He took a step closer to me and pressed the two slices together. I expected to feel something—a shock or burning or something bizarre as the blood mingled—but all I could feel was the powerful aura of him that surrounded us both.

“And now the oath is bound in blood.” He smiled and kissed me—a light and strangely chaste kiss, especially compared to some of the deep and throbbing and heat-filled kisses he had laid on me before.

“I need to know something,” I said after he stepped back. “I mean … could you answer two questions for me now?”

He inclined his head ever so slightly in acquiescence.

“You said that the link you had with my dreams was broken when I died … but … do you still have any sort of link to me?”

For an instant I had the impression he wanted to laugh, but all he did was smile. “Perceptive and clever. In those last seconds before you perished, I forged a new and different link—one that I knew would survive your death.”

The fucker. He hadn’t lied to me before, but he sure hadn’t told me the whole truth. But at least now I knew.

“Your second question?” he prompted. I had a feeling he knew what I was going to ask. I wasn’t so sure I wanted to know the answer, but I knew I needed to know.

“What is a kiraknikahl?” I asked, voice cracking.

The demon’s mouth curved in a hard smile. “A kiraknikahl is an oath-breaker.”

A heartbeat later his throne room was gone and we were back in the attic, leaving me no chance to process the meaning of his answer. The knife was still in Rhyzkahl’s hand, and even as I registered the change in the surroundings, he turned and seized Rachel, yanking her away from Ryan in a swift and fluid move. Before she could do more than widen her eyes in shock, Rhyzkahl had plunged the knife into Rachel’s chest, directly into her heart.

She screamed and clutched at the knife, clawing at Rhyzkahl’s hands as he held it buried to the evil hilt in her chest. Ryan sagged heavily to his knees, then looked up at Rachel and Rhyzkahl. His eyes rested on the knife, widening in horror as he scrabbled weakly back, gaze locked on the blade.

Rachel screamed again—a sound a thousand times worse than the scream Ryan had made when she’d begun to steal his essence. Rhyzkahl slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him in what could have been a loving embrace except for the knife he held buried in her chest. I could feel a malevolent coiling of potency filling the room, and I found myself drawing back from the two of them along with Ryan, not stopping until we were both up against the wall of the attic.

“No,” I heard Ryan moan. “No. Not that.” I tore my gaze away from Rhyzkahl to look at Ryan. A look of indescribable grief and horror filled his eyes. He suddenly turned to look at me, then his gaze dropped to my forearm, and, if anything, the grief and horror increased. “Kara. Kara, what did you do ?”

I looked down at my forearm, expecting to see the line of blood, but instead I saw a swirl of potency where the cut had been. In the span of three heartbeats, the swirl coalesced to form an intricate mark on the inside of my forearm, as if tattooed there by arcane power. I knew the symbol well. The Mark of Rhyzkahl. I turned away from Ryan. I didn’t need to hear his condemnation. “I did what I had to do.”

The dark-blue gem in the knife’s pommel suddenly flared, and Rachel sagged in Rhyzkahl’s arms. He released her and stepped back, dropping her like a sack of flour. She collapsed into a heap, then, as we watched, her body shriveled and began to disintegrate until, a few heartbeats later, nothing remained but dust and clothing.