Demon Lost

For Walter and Joe, as usual.

And for Larry and Alfred. Thank you so much for your support!

Very special thanks to my cover artist, Renee, at The Cover Counts!

Demon Lost, copyright © 2012 by Connie Suttle

All rights reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents portrayed within its digital pages are purely fictitious and a product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons (or vampires, werewolves, High Demons, Larentii, shapeshifters, Ra'Ak, wizards, warlocks or gods) living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This book, whole or in part, MAY NOT be copied or reproduced by electronic or mechanical means (including photocopying or the implementation of any type of storage or retrieval system) without the express written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.

Other books by Connie Suttle

(Blood Destiny Series)

Blood Wager

Blood Passage

Blood Sense

Blood Domination

Blood Royal

Blood Queen

Blood Rebellion

Blood War

Blood Redemption

Blood Reunion

(Legend of the Ir'Indicti Series)

Bumble

Shadowed

Target

Vendetta

Destroyer*

(High Demon Series)

Demon Lost

Demon Revealed*

Demon's King*

*Forthcoming

Chapter 1
 

Prologue

"Jayd, we have to find Kifirin's tears."

"Glindarok, my love, what are you talking about?" Jaydevik Rath, King of the High Demons, looked up from a pile of reports sitting on his desk. Glinda stood before him, beautiful as always, the river of white-blonde hair she'd inherited from her mother cascading about her shoulders. Carefully, Jayd covered the top report with a hand.

"Jayd, don't bother trying to hide it," Glinda's blue eyes flashed a warning. "How many did we lose to Baetrah this time?"

"Sixty-three, most from Greth," Jayd sighed. "I should know better than to hide anything from you."

"The High Demons are dying," Glinda muttered regretfully and dropped onto a chair beside Jayd's. "I hoped Jase and Jehrie might conceive as soon as they were mated, but that wasn't the case. The High Demon houses are losing hope, Jaydevik. They see no new females coming to them and that spells doom for all of Kifirin. That's why we must find the jewels my father called Kifirin's tears. My father always said that Kifirin hid them in the palace somewhere, and that we'd find them when our salvation was at hand. I felt sure we'd find them after Lissa fought off the Ra'Ak, but they never turned up. What if it's just a myth, Jayd? What if there's nothing to save us, now? Le-Ath Veronis is the balance for all the worlds instead of Kifirin. What if there's nothing that can bring us back?" Glinda wiped away tears as she stared at her husband.

"Come here, my love," Jayd pulled Glinda into his lap. "Kifirin made a promise to me when the balance was moved from the High Demons to the vampires. He told me he would do whatever was necessary to keep our race alive. We have to trust him, I think."

"I hope he does something soon, then," Glinda buried her head against Jayd's shoulder. "We've lost so many already."

* * *

Part I

"Addah will be here tomorrow."

Those words from my brother Edan told me much. It was time for the annual conscription notices and one of us would be sent to the military. The notices were sent to the heads of households and Addah, our father, would come to tell us who would be sent. Edan was my second oldest brother and outside the age to be taken, but Wald, Ilvan and I were all eligible. I was barely eligible at nineteen turns, but still eligible, all the same.

"This is no excuse to let your minds wander," Edan snapped, bringing me back to reality and forcing me to mind my sauce. The four of us worked at our father's second restaurant in Shirves, and many times we'd gotten better reviews than the first restaurant in the capital city of Targis, where my father worked as master cook.

I was third from last of my father's twenty-seven children from eight wives—and the only daughter. Addah often boasted that he knew how to breed sons. Sons were master cooks. Addah's only daughter—me—could only hope to be what I was—an assistant.

I'm sure it would mean nothing to Addah Desh that his only daughter had designed the recipes for most of the popular dishes served at number two. All the credit went to my brother Edan. I had no voice in the family since my mother had the misfortune to die in childbirth. I was her only child, farmed out for servants to raise until I reached the age of eight.

Edan's mother, Marzi, was first wife, though it irked her greatly that second wife Farla had produced the first son. First son Fes worked at Desh's number one with Father and received much praise and credit. Edan was overcome with jealousy about Father's treatment of Fes, until Desh's number two started getting better reviews. Now it was a contest between Edan and Fes, while the rest of us stood back and watched the rivalry. Desh's numbers three through five couldn't even compete.

"Reah, you will cook the yaris fish that Father is so fond of tomorrow," Edan's mouth was next to my ear. I wasn't sure why he bothered to whisper—everybody in the kitchen knew who cooked that dish. "Do it well, or you'll be beaten," he added. Also something everybody in the kitchen knew. Edan was past thirty-eight turns and had been beating me since I'd been handed to him after my eighth birthday.

After a broken wrist and multiple cracked ribs, Edan learned to save the hard blows—those came when he felt he could get away with it and not be questioned by medical personnel at the nearby hospital. Edan always told Father I was clumsy and accident-prone. I did my best to be neither. Sadly, Edan's contempt and abusive treatment left the door open for cruelties from Wald and a few of the others. Some of the kitchen help taunted me at times, too, although they held back from any physical abuse. They never attempted to outguess Edan's polarities on the issue.

I added wine to the sauce while Wald mused on what he might do for the Alliance's army. "We might cook for the High General," Wald smiled over his sautéed onions. "That would certainly please Father." Wald and Ilvan both lived for the day when Father noticed them. Edan always received the attention. As for me—I was waiting for the day Father married me off to someone. I hoped it would be someone who didn't think beating a small woman was sport—someone who lived in another city so Edan could no longer get his hands on me.

* * *

"Edan, the yaris fish was exceptional, as always," father beamed at Edan. Edan, Wald, Ilvan and I all stood inside the office behind the kitchen at Desh's number two. Father sat behind the desk as the ranking family member. I'm sure Edan didn't like it one bit—he'd taken money from the restaurant to decorate his office with a handmade desk, rich rugs and wall hangings. I had only vague memories of what Father's office looked like at Desh's number one—I hadn't been there in eleven turns.

"Now, on to business," Father was smiling and drawing a small comp-vid from his pocket. "As you know, the Alliance sends out the conscription notices every spring. This year, we have a family member selected." I looked sideways at Wald and Ilvan—both expected to be chosen. They may have wanted to get away from Edan as much as I did, although he never laid a hand on them.

I turned my eyes back to my father. I looked nothing like him. He had dark, thinning hair atop a wide face that turned pink with exertion when he worked in a hot kitchen. Father wasn't heavy and his dark-brown eyes would sometimes twinkle when he spoke with Edan or some of his regular customers. They never twinkled at me.

I'd had the temerity to be born with nearly white hair—the hair belonging to my mother. I also had her green eyes instead of Father's brown. I'd never met any of my mother's family—didn't know if any still existed. When my mother died, the other wives had seen to it that every memory of her had been wiped away. Father was left with seven wives and twenty-seven children. Now, at age eighty-nine, he was in his prime, since inhabitants of the Alliance world of Tulgalan lived to be nearly two hundred.

"I think you will all be pleased with the Alliance's choice, since it will not impact the family," father was still smiling and looking at my brothers. An icy finger began to crawl its way down my spine. Father turned to me. "They have chosen Reah, and they assure me that she can help in their kitchens, since she is not tall enough to carry weapons or repair machinery." A moment was all I had to stare at my father before I fell to the floor in a dead faint.

* * *

Whining to Edan was futility at its best, so I didn't try. He'd slapped a comp-vid in front of me as I sat beside his desk two days later. "I don't care how many times you've written out the recipes, write them again," he demanded. "And include every bit of instruction on what to add when. Desh's two will not suffer merely because the Alliance chose to take you away for six years."

I didn't bother to look up at my second oldest brother, or sigh, even, which is what I wanted to do. The truth is, I was terrified of my brother. He'd hurt me too many times. Broken too many bones, slammed me into too many walls. He looked like Father, too, and that was a tremendous help as far as Father was concerned. It helped not at all with the women he saw occasionally. The moment they found out what he was truly like, they deserted him as quickly as they could. I couldn't blame them—if Edan hadn't threatened to kill me several times, I would have run away long ago. Capturing my lower lip in my teeth to keep it from trembling, I began to tap recipes into Edan's comp-vid.

Chapter 2
 

"Recruit Desh, your performance during preliminary training is exemplary, but you understand that your height and weight are against you." I stood before the post commander as he read my report on the handheld lying on his desk. My height and weight were indeed against me. I didn't come to the commander's shoulder and struggled to carry the heavy gear we bore on training exercises. "In most cases, we might have sent you home if you hadn't shown such determination," the commander went on.

He had silver in his red hair and someday it would all be a silvery white. I'd watched people during my short life—all kinds wandered into Desh's. The ones I watched the closest were the ones I envied the most—fathers and mothers with children who were loved. Not the ones who were coddled and spoiled, but the ones who received a smile and praise when it was deserved. The ones who received careful guidance otherwise. I'd never had that and often dreamed about it.

"I am proud to serve the Alliance," I lied to the commander, my head down. That was how I knew to talk to males. Edan had seen to that. Truthfully, I had no desire to go back to Edan and his mistreatment. The shouting and verbal abuse from my Alliance instructors was nothing compared to what Edan could dish out.

"I am aware of you background," the commander added. Of course he was. There probably wasn't a soul alive on Tulgalan who wasn't. Desh's was the place to take your wives or your promised. The upper middle class frequented Desh's for special occasions; the wealthy came to Desh's more often than that. End-days were always crowded, with tables covered in linen, snowy napkins and silver polished to its brightest shine.