Legacy of the Demon (45 page)

Giovanni's anger gave way to sullen acceptance.

With Turek's help, Szerain made for the edge of the woods at a fast clip while Giovanni stayed right on his heels. I followed, but not before seeing Rhyzkahl standing tense and rigid with frustration at his exclusion.

Silvery moonlight pierced the canopy, casting ample illumination for us to follow the trail through the woods. The pathway opened up on the pond clearing, where rakkuhr undulated in foot-high coils of red and black, and a Jontari kehza basked in the water as if it was his personal spa.

Szerain headed straight for the arcane valve without giving the demon so much as a glance.

“Giovanni, sit here and hold Elinor,” Szerain ordered, pointing at a grassy spot a couple of feet from the valve. “Kara, you sit facing them.”

Rakkuhr floated toward me as I settled on the ground. I shoved it away in distaste. “Do I need to hold her hand or anything?”

“No, I'll take care of making the connections when it's time.” He remained standing, the third vertex of a triangle. Turek crouched behind him, nearly invisible in the gloom.

The air pressure seemed to drop. The rakkuhr ceased its random undulations and began to flow toward Szerain, swirling around his legs and torso, more and more and increasing in speed until he stood at the center of a rakkuhr tornado that flashed red and black.

He thrust a hand up, and the rakkuhr shot skyward like a beacon. A dozen feet up it seemed to hit an invisible wall and spread downward, as if coating the inside of an unseen globe.

Gobsmacked, I watched as the rakkuhr resolved into an exquisite lacework, passing through the ground to form a sphere with us at the center.

The rakkuhr tornado died down to a slow whirlpool around Szerain's calves and feet. The lace-sphere began a slow vertical rotation. A measure of tension left Szerain.

“That buys us time,” he said with a crooked smile.

“It's a shield?” I asked.

“Among other things,” he replied. “The rakkuhr will keep any demahnk interference at bay until we're finished.” All trace of humor left him as his gaze went to Giovanni. “I had mere heartbeats to make a decision and act to save her.” Emotion rippled through his voice.

Around Szerain, the lazy whirl of rakkuhr began to pick up speed, though not as fierce a tornado as before. Once again he lifted a hand, and the rakkuhr spun up and out to form a second lace-sphere a hairsbreadth within the first. It flashed in dangerous beauty as he set it rotating, this time horizontally.

“Kara, read Elinor's last journal entry.” Szerain began a third sphere, drawing rakkuhr from the valve like silk from a spider's butt.

I fumbled the journal open and flipped to the last page with writing, then peered at it in confusion. I'd skimmed all of her entries, but I had no memory of this one.

“It was her final entry,” Szerain said, “and deeply personal. I protected it in memoriam to her.” He paused. “But she needs to hear it now. Read.”

I cleared my throat self-consciously. “I am not loath to admit that my skills with the arcane astound no one,” I began. “I am competent enough, but my passion lies with my illustrations of the demon realm flora and fauna. Lord Szerain knows this, and therefore I will trust he has reasons and knowledge beyond my ken that justify his decision to partner with me for the ritual. I dare not be uncertain. My will must be resolute.

“Giovanni worries, and I love him all the more for it. Yet I am doing this for him, for us. I adore this world, but I dare not quicken here and risk the babe. Confined to Earth, Giovanni would pine without the Lord's company and friendship, and my art would surely suffer. If the ritual succeeds in raising the Earthgate then mayhap my love and I can build a home on Earth and begin a family. The gate will give us both worlds, allowing free return here during those times when I am not with child.”

Though I wanted to stop and process the whole “risking the babe” thing, I kept going and read the last bit. “I am prepared. I will succeed with the ritual. I will grow old with Giovanni and sit by the fire with him while our grandchildren play around us.” I barely got the last few words out as my throat clogged with emotion. I'd thought of her as weak, but here was a woman who not only had the strength to tell Rhyzkahl that she couldn't be his zharkat, but was ready and willing to
literally
move heaven and earth to start a family with the man she loved.

Giovanni wept openly, murmuring softly in Italian as he cradled Elinor close. I reverently closed the journal and placed it on the grass between us, then looked up at Szerain. To my surprise, a dozen or more rakkuhr lace-spheres now spun around us, all rotating in different directions and orientations, like a gyroscope gone mad. Red and black sparked and flashed throughout it all, and the dizzying effect made me slightly nauseous.

Szerain ceased pulling from the valve and released the rakkuhr around him, letting it drift to the ground. “And now the answers to many questions,” he murmured and called Vsuhl to his hand.

My gaze fixed on the knife. Parasite and power source in one. The living prison for the entity Vsuhl.

The spheres spun faster and faster until we floated in a disorienting blur of red. I clutched at the ground for balance—

I was in a summoning chamber, one I knew all too well from seeing it through Elinor's eyes. Except this time Elinor was standing a few feet away.

Holy shit. This is
Szerain's
perspective.
It wasn't a dream-vision—I didn't
become
Szerain—but it was darn close.

Giovanni let out a choked cry of surprise, and I realized we were both seeing and experiencing the event, like two people watching the same show on different TVs. No, three. I had the distinct sensation of Elinor's essence peering over my shoulder.

In the vision, Elinor, clad in a brilliant green robe, wove sigils and lay ritual anchors with no hesitation or uncertainty. She might have been “competent enough” in typical arcane ventures, but it was clear she'd worked hard to prepare for this ritual and knew it inside out and backward.

Szerain moved in concert with her, and I sensed his deep satisfaction with Elinor's work. The ritual progressed and built, all aspects in perfect harmony. Even though I knew what was coming, I found myself silently cheering her on. I carried this
woman's essence, and now I felt strangely honored that I'd been allowed to do so.

Szerain assessed. All was stable, ready. Elinor invited the grove energy, and it came to her in a rush of power that filled her with palpable vitality. She smiled, radiant. Szerain wove delicate ropes of rakkuhr, enhancing the ritual. Triumphant, he called to the Earthgate, felt it answer—

With no warning or discernible cause, a tremor shattered the protections. Utterly inexplicable. The screaming whine of the ritual signaled that the exquisitely controlled event was about to cascade beyond control like a sea of falling dominos.

Szerain called Vsuhl to his hand, needing more potency to help Elinor release the ritual and disengage.

The power flared. Her mouth opened in a scream.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl. I felt Szerain's horrified awareness as the world began to unravel.

In that instant he knew that, to temper the impending cataclysm, he had no option but to slay Elinor. The surest way was to sate Vsuhl with her blood and her essence, destroying her utterly—and losing Elinor and her potential forever.

Or he could slay her to save her. More risk, less certainty, but she would have a chance to survive, and damage repair would be swifter once he recovered her.

The world shook and tilted. Szerain moved to Elinor as she burned from within, seized her from behind with an arm around her waist.

The door to the antechamber hung on its hinges. Giovanni stumbled in, face twisting in horror as he took in the sight of his beloved.

“Call her!” Szerain shouted through the din of clashing energies.

“Elinor!” Giovanni struggled to move against a howling wind.

Szerain plunged Vsuhl into Elinor's chest, fought the blade's will and ignored Giovanni's shout of horror. “Call her!” he yelled and pulled the knife free, he hoped in time. “Do not cease calling!” Her blood sizzled on the blade. Szerain trembled with focus.

“Elinor!” Grief twisted Giovanni's face, but rage drove him forward.

Szerain bore Elinor to the ground then battled through the gale to reach Giovanni.

“Call her!”

And he sliced Vsuhl across the throat of his dear friend.

I let out a cry of shock. Current-day Giovanni exclaimed what sounded like a seventeenth century Italian version of What The Fuck.

Vision-Giovanni crumpled, and blood spread across the floor. A thread shimmered between the dying man and the essence blade.

“Call her.”

The scene vanished. The rakkuhr spheres slowed their frenzied pace to a more leisurely rotation.

My mouth felt like a desert, but I managed to work enough moisture back into it to speak. “You connected them.”

“I wove a link,” Szerain said wearily. “Giovanni was to maintain Elinor and help me keep her essence from being consumed by the blade. I knew it would take at least a week for them to tranverse the void and recorporeate on Earth, allowing me ample time to do what was needed to stabilize Elinor's essence and to avert catastrophe when I restored her from the blade.”

I rubbed my gooseflesh-covered arms. “But then the ways between the worlds slammed shut, and both Elinor and Giovanni were stuck.”

Giovanni clutched at his throat, eyes wide. “Y-you killed me to save her?”

Szerain offered a sad smile. “There wasn't time to ask if you were willing.”

After a moment's hesitation, Giovanni gave a reluctant nod.

“And it gave you a connection to Kara as well,” Szerain said. “Removing the essence and restoring it to Elinor will be much easier with your aid,” Szerain said. “If you're willing, that is. I promise not to kill you this time.”

Giovanni let out a strangled laugh. “Yes. Yes, of course I am willing, my friend.”

Szerain smiled. It was clear he'd wanted Giovanni to know the truth for reasons that went far beyond getting his willing help. “Very well.”

Drawing both rakkuhr and normal potency, Szerain wove strands like fiber optic micro-threads between Elinor, Giovanni, and me, until it felt as if every cell in my body was accounted for. The rakkuhr buzzed through me but wasn't as unpleasant as expected. Turek watched every move as if assessing for flaws.

At long last, Szerain stopped and scrutinized every
millimeter of the intricate connections. “Alrighty, Kara,” he said, apparently satisfied. “This will hurt a bit.”

Oh, crap. “A bit” in lord-speak could range from eyebrow-plucking to mind-numbing agony.

Tensing, I braced myself for the worst. A tingling ripple began at my scalp and flowed down my body to my toes. Another followed it, warm and pleasant. Slowly, I began to relax as ripple after gentle ripple swept through me and sent light pulsing down the strands. Szerain had been messing with me about pain, the asstard. At the very edge of my senses, information streamed—an update for Elinor, much like when I'd used the flows to orient Giovanni to the modern world.

I jerked. “OW! Shit!” It felt like a whole-body bandage had been ripped off. I glared at Szerain.

He returned a mild look. “I did warn you.”

I scratched the side of my nose with my middle finger.

The strands dissipated into a million floating sparks. Szerain crouched and laid his fingers against Elinor's temple, then cursed softly.

“Is she not restored?” Giovanni asked.

“Yes, but Xharbek has already primed her to be used as a weapon.” He picked up the journal and opened it to the odd code inside the back cover. “Fortunately, easily un-primed, thanks to a bit of advance work. I developed a way for her to understand and control her potential, removing the ability for anyone to exploit her. In modern-speak, it's a firewall.” He swiped his fingers over the code, and an intricate sigil shimmered into life above it. “And this is the installation script.” Gently, he pulled the sigil onto his fingers then placed it on Elinor's forehead. The sigil sank into her skin, flashed a brilliant blue and purple over her entire body, then was gone.

Szerain touched her head lightly one more time. “Time to wake up, my dear.” He eased back then straightened.

Four pairs of eyes stared at Elinor.

She breathed out a sigh.

“Elinor?” Giovanni croaked out.

Her eyes opened slowly. “Giovanni,” she whispered then smiled. “You called to me.”

“Always.” His voice cracked. “And now you answer.”

She pulled his head down to hers then gave him a sizzling kiss that had been three-hundred years in the waiting. When they
finally came up for air, she climbed unsteadily to her feet then threw her arms around Szerain.

He held her close, head bowed over hers and face awash with emotion.

After a moment, he reluctantly let her go. “I am so very glad to see you,” he said.

“And I, you.” She wiped away tears and then, to everyone's surprise, smacked him on the arm and announced, “My good Lord Szerain, you should know, being stabbed is quite fucking painful!”

My jaw dropped, and Giovanni made a choking noise. Szerain burst out laughing. “I have no doubt it is,” he said.

Smiling, she gave him another quick hug then turned and looped her arm through Giovanni's. He recovered from his shock enough to give Szerain a look of profound gratitude, then he and Elinor made their way up the trail.

I hooked my own arm through Szerain's, and together we followed the happy couple at a weary stroll while Turek brought up the rear.

“Was it just me or did Elinor drop an F-bomb?” I asked after a moment.

Szerain's smile widened. “Just as her essence influenced you, so did you influence it. Your awareness and mannerisms infused it and transferred to her upon its return.”