Legacy of the Demon (41 page)

Could she sense the approaching team? Or was she making an assumption based on previous DIRT responses to rifts? Not that it mattered. DIRT was coming. She knew. Bad shit would happen.

I folded my arms and affected a casual stance to show how very not scared of her I was. “What
interplay
is that, Dekkak?” No, really. Not scared. Nope, not me.

Instead of answering, she extended a hand toward the rift and spoke in demon. “Emerge, my honored ones. The diminished Earth awaits you.”

Since I didn't want to reveal that I understood her, I schooled my expression to “slightly befuddled.” But on the inside I did a full body flail while shouting:
Oh, come ON!
More demons?
Not quite the interplay I had in mind.

I pretended shock when the rift vomited a buttload of demons, but the dismay on my face was real enough. Four reyza and a Chinese-dragon-faced kehza took flight and scattered in all directions. A shadowy zhurn with burning red eyes followed, melting into the night as if it had never been there.

In my earpiece, I heard Bryce warn all personnel of demons on the property, and to shoot only if attacked. Good man. Bad demons.

Like sentient coils of smoke and flashing color, a pair of ilius wound like housecats around Dekkak's legs. “Seek your surrogates,” she told them, and after one final rub against her shins, they headed straight for the house.

“Hey! Why are those two ilius going into my house?” I said, mostly for Bryce's benefit. He was sharp enough to get the hint that I wanted one of his people to keep tabs on the two demons.

Dekkak drew her lips back, revealing fangs that gleamed in the moonlight like ivory tusks. “Interfere, and you doom Krawkor and Makonite.” An ominous growl backed her words.

I stared at her, utterly taken aback. She was talking about Corey Crawford and Marco Knight. What the ever-living
fuck
? “And those two demons are going to do what exactly?”

“Tend their brood,” she said without further explanation. Still, it was the most direct response she'd made to me yet, so I decided to count it as a win.

“If by ‘tend' you mean anything except ‘care for,' call them back.” I pretended to ignore her hiss and continued, “It's obvious you want something that only I can give, otherwise we wouldn't be having this nice little chat. I'll be a whole lot less likely to agree if, er, Krawkor and Makonite are harmed.”

To my everlasting relief, Dekkak settled her wings and eased back. “Untended, they will never hatch.” She tucked her first three fingers under her thumb, leaving only her wickedly clawed little finger extended, like giving me the bird except with her pinky. “On my honor, Kara Gillian.”

Her eyes, her stance, and her very aura told me she would never say that frivolously. She definitely wanted something. And wanted it badly. A faint flicker of hope stirred from deep beneath the ol' fear of dying. If we were about to negotiate a trade, maybe I could shove the rescue of Elinor back onto the bargaining table?

I had no idea if I was supposed to throw any demon gang signs in response to Dekkak's pinky swear, so I opted for neutral territory and sought something vaguely flattering. “Your honor is . . . impeccable, imperator.” I winced mentally at the unintended echo, then again as my stupid stressed brain tried to make a rap out of it.
Impeccable imperator, insides indigestible
 . . .

I gave my brain a mental kick in the ass and focused on the impeccable imperator.

Dekkak withdrew her hand, but when she made no move to
kill me, I decided I must have made an acceptable response. “Seretis,” she said in demon. “To me.”

Seretis staggered to his feet and approached, the leash of potency still trailing into the rift. Behind him, said rift flared magenta then belched a nightmare creature that looked like an elephant-sized slug with several monster octopuses fused together where a head might be. Its hide and tentacles shifted colors in lazy splodges of midnight blue and neon pink, while in the midst of the tentacles, eerie blue light issued from its cavernous maw illuminating pale shapes of—

I recoiled as my eyes resolved the pale shapes into the human skulls that they were. Mouth dry, I forced myself to confirm that the creature was indeed wearing at least a dozen human skulls and severed heads on its smaller tentacles like ornaments. A few were fresh, as if either newly killed or arcanely preserved, and I suddenly found myself looking into the dead eyes of Sergeant Ted Palmer of the Dirty Thirty.

Cold sweat broke out beneath my shirt. I wrenched my gaze away, silently screaming at myself to hold it together, to swallow back the puke, set aside the horror, and keep a goddamn brave face on because too much was riding on me not fucking this up.

Seretis collapsed to his knees beside Dekkak, but my gaze went to his leash. Only now did it register that Slugthing held the other end within a wrap of tentacle. His keeper.

A deep and dark calm descended upon me. I wouldn't lose focus. Not now. This was
it
. Whatever
it
was.

With a deft twitch of her claws, Dekkak shaped rakkuhr into a knot-like sigil and set it spinning overhead. I didn't need to understand rakkuhr to know the ward was for privacy, especially when my earpiece crackled and went dead.

In a foreboding gesture, Slugthing shot a tentacle around my blood bowl and knife and pulled them to a spot between Dekkak and me. A slurred, wet voice issued from its maw, saying in demon, “This frail hu-beast female has not the wit nor resources to procure the trinity.”

What the hell was the trinity? And why did it need procuring? I had to assume this was part of the mysterious bargain, but I was already sick of the games and shows of dominance. Time to cut the crap.

I locked eyes with the imperator and—also in demon—said, “Your underling doubts your decision to negotiate with this
hu-beast.
Is such insolence rife in your domain?”

Dekkak shot an I'll-deal-with-you-later glance at Slugthing then huffed out a breath between her teeth. “Gurgaz merely echoes what I have already voiced,” she replied, sticking to her own language since it was clear I understood it. “Doubt yet lingers within me regarding the merit of the defiler's claim.” She gestured toward Seretis. “Though, as you have mastered our tongue, I concede you are more than a witless hu-beast.”

Hey, I'd made it past Witless. Achievement unlocked. Or rather, achievement faked. The nexus gave me the demon tongue, but I wasn't about to let her in on the secret.

I inclined my head a bare inch. “I await your proposal, honored imperator.”

“You sought to summon and bind me to your will,” she growled. “Such will never come to pass, but listen well. The
kiraknikahl
Xharbek expects me to return with your severed head and the Elinor essence.”

Bonus points to her for calling Xharbek an oathbreaker. And points to me as well for having guessed correctly that the asshole had engaged her to do his dirty work and get me dead. The essence thing was a surprise, though. And she'd so far failed to make a proclamation in the vein of, “Oh, and I decided not to kill you because fuck Xharbek.” So that threat was still on the table.

But so was what she wanted. “Yet you haven't taken my head or the essence,” I pointed out. “What did Xharbek offer in return?”

“Earth,” she said, as if bartering
planets
was an everyday occurrence.

“Ah.” I gave a knowing nod, as if I possessed vast experience in trade negotiations involving planetary real estate. Meanwhile, Inside-My-Head Kara was running in circles with her hands in her hair while shrieking
are you shitting me!?

However, Slugthing's insulting comment had contained a nugget of useful info. Whatever the trinity was, it needed procuring. “But you want the trinity more than you want Earth,” I said serenely. No way was I going to reveal that I knew nothing about this trinity. However, an unpleasant suspicion was beginning to form.

“And you want the shell of Elinor Bayliss,” Dekkak said with an accompanying hiss.

I acknowledged her statement with a nod. “It seems we have the foundation of a mutually beneficial agreement.”

“Seretis claims you are the zharkat of Mzatal.” She snarled the last three words as if they were poison in her mouth.

“He spoke the truth.”

Red sparkled in the depths of her eyes. “Will you betray your zharkat?”

That was quite the loaded question, and one I needed to consider very carefully before giving my answer. A “yes” would be a mark of dishonor. But a “no” could not only put an end to the negotiation, I might as well hand over my head so she could give it to Xharbek.

“Tell me why you want the trinity,” I said instead. Her question had all but confirmed my suspicion about the trinity. It had
to be the three essence blades. Mzatal's creations. To procure them, I would have to betray him—at least from her perspective.

Her eyes bored into me as if measuring my worth and potential, and it took everything I had to stand my ground before that ancient gaze. And I mean
ancient.
I'd often thought that the lords were “ancient,” but now I was going to have to downgrade them to merely “really really old.” Dekkak was older than the rivers and the mountains. Countless civilizations on Earth had risen and faded to dust in her lifetime, and a good number of them would have worshipped her. She'd have given even badass goddesses like Hel and Tiamat a run for their money.

Her nostrils flared, and the intense scrutiny eased. “The Ekiri changed our world,” she said in a voice that resonated through me. “We, the Jontari, changed with it. There are outsiders who wish for us to return to our former way of being, before the change. Before rakkuhr.” She spread her wings a few feet and leaned toward me. “We. Will. Not.” Her wings snapped closed with a sharp report.

Her explanation was a little light on the specifics, but I got the drift. The Ekiri had “fixed up” the planet, and in the process—whether intentionally or not—they'd given the demons a big ol' leg up. Then the Ekiri, who had something to do with the rakkuhr, left. Now, several thousands of years later, there was a push to put everything back the way it was—wiping out every bit of the demons' evolution, improvements, and advancements.

I couldn't blame Dekkak for being pissed. It would be like trying to force modern society to live without electricity or indoor plumbing—and with all knowledge of it removed.

No, it would be like the gods asking modern society to give back the gift of fire and everything that came of it.

Beside Dekkak, Seretis caught my gaze and mouthed “Bryce”—quick but clear—before going quiescent again. He was telling me he'd communicated more to Bryce, which made my wild curiosity happy.

“How does the trinity fit in?” I asked.

Her low growl warned me that this was a touchy subject. “Last question. Last answer,” she hissed. “The defiler Mzatal enslaved our Jontari elders: Vsuhl, Khatur, and Xhan. The gatekeepers of the rakkuhr. The first students of the Ekiri. He bound their essences between blade and gimkrah to hold dominion
over the Jontari. We have recovered the three gimkrah. Now it is time for our elders to come home.”

Well.

Fuck.

Okay then.
Back straight. Head up. Stand strong.
So what if Dekkak had just added a couple of tons to the weight already on my shoulders. It wasn't as if any of it was super critical like, say, the fate of two worlds, or a deep and personal relationship with the lord who'd enslaved a trio of demigod demons.

Didn't matter. I already knew what my answer would be, even without the threat of death hanging over me. I would agree for the sake of the Jontari, because the trinity was an abomination, no matter what sort of dire events had driven Mzatal to that length. And I'd agree for the sake of the lords, because the blades held a terrible and insidious sway over them, all the more dangerous for not being obvious. It wasn't a betrayal of my beloved. It was his salvation.

Later, after this crap was done and over with, I'd let myself think about the ramifications.

“You want the trinity,” I said. “I want Elinor Bayliss. There are terms to be laid out.”

“Agreement before blooding. Yes.” A forked tongue darted out to lick her fangs. “My terms are simple. The trinity to me before your next spring equinox. Because I will complete my terms before you complete yours, my six warlords will remain unfettered on Earth, and two of your minions will abide with me. If you fail to deliver the trinity within the allotted time, your minions become mine, and I will hunt you as kiraknikahl.” She paused. “Along with the trinity, you will deliver Mzatal, bound in makkas.”

Yeah . . . no. Not in a million years, you demonic bitch
. I'd maintained an impassive expression while she spoke, seasoned with a teensy dash of mild boredom. Now I offered a smile as far from friendly as, well, a Jontari was from Mzatal. “
My
terms. You will bring Elinor to me within the hour, alive and unharmed in any way by you or your demons. During this task, no other humans will be harmed. Demon incursions are to cease as of this moment. You will immediately surrender to me all human body parts collected by your minions since the beginning of the incursions. And you will release Seretis.
Now
.” I paused. “As for your terms. The time frame for the trinity is agreed.
One
warlord is to
remain on Earth, and only until the trinity is delivered to you. None of my people will accompany you to your realm. The matter of Mzatal as part of your lord collection is removed from this negotiation.”

She growled. “Seretis is
mine
. The matter of Seretis is removed from this negotiation.”

Crap. At this stage in the game, I didn't dare ask her to clarify what she meant by
mine
. Yet no way could I accept his dismissal from the terms without knowing more. “I would speak to Seretis,” I said. “Alone.”

Dekkak clicked her claws together in a complex staccato. I had zero doubt she was working out a way to deny me and still get what she wanted. “Fifty heartbeats,” she finally said. “Unveiled.”

“One hundred.” I decided not to push the privacy issue and risk losing the opportunity altogether. “
Human
heartbeats,” I quickly added since I didn't want to risk losing out because some weird demon had a pulse rate of three thousand beats per minute.

“Agreed.”

Seretis stood as I approached. Barely a foot behind him, Slugthing towered like a wall of writhing tentacles and grisly human remains.

Since we had no privacy, this needed to be a show for Dekkak's benefit. I kept my face impassive. “What bargain did you make?”

“A selfish one,” Seretis replied. “Is it wrong that I feel safer in the tender care of my mortal enemy than in the heart of my own realm?”

His words confirmed what Bryce had relayed about treachery at home but, dramatics aside, there had to be a deeper motivation at work than saving his skin. He couldn't speak openly with said mortal enemy in range of hearing, but perhaps he'd drop enough clues to let me figure it out on my own.

“Right or wrong, it is done,” I said. “What was the bargain?”

He let out a soft breath, eyes on mine. “The honored Dekkak agreed to assess you before fulfilling her unblooded agreement with Xharbek. In exchange, I am hers.”

Holy fuck. I wrenched my focus to an unruly twist of hair above his right temple, knowing too well that my uber-tough attitude would crumble if I looked into his eyes. Seretis had made an unbelievable end run around Xharbek and absolutely,
hands down, saved my ass. If Dekkak had come through the rift with the intent to kill me rather than to talk, I'd be dead, along with everyone else in the compound, leaving Xharbek free to fuck up both worlds. This dude had balls. Gigantic and brass. And apparently well-hidden, with the rather hairy pair in plain sight a mere facade.

Tough-as-nails mien intact again, I dropped my eyes to his.

He'd sensed my brief struggle for control and waited a beat, but now his mouth curved in a sad smile. “I gave a blood oath that you will deliver the essence blades to her. If you do not . . .” He offered a barely perceptible shrug.

If I did not, his life would be at an end—or not worth living. I forced my mouth into a sneer. “Why would you do that?”

“Because acquiring the blades is near impossible, and she would agree to no less.” His uninjured eye fixed on me. “And though I would give my life a hundred times over to rid the worlds of the anathema of the blades, I had not the direct means. But you, zharkat of Mzatal, you are my tool. Through you, I make my mark.”

He'd couched his words in lordly eloquence, yet the meaning rang through, loud and clear: Seretis was willing to live and die as a captive if it meant getting the knives out of the hands of Szerain and Mzatal. More astonishing—to me at least—was his clear and unswerving belief that I was up to this incredibly difficult task. This really holy crap crazy what-the-hell unspeakably nigh near impossible task.

I stiffened my spine and bared my teeth at Seretis in the necessary show of disdain. “Through
my
actions I will make
my
mark,” I snarled in my best potency-backed imperious voice.

A dark tentacle snaked around his waist and dragged him back against Slugthing. Fear shimmered briefly over his face before he regained his composure. “Then make your mark, Kara Gillian,” he murmured.