Legacy of the Demon (52 page)

If I intervened to stop Rhyzkahl, he'd fall to the blades.

I have to trust Rhyzkahl. Fuck.

Rhyzkahl stopped a foot from Mzatal, eyes locked on his former essence blade. Xhan. Spikes thrust from its hilt, curling around Mzatal's fingers to lock the knife in his grip. The dark blue jewel in the pommel sparkled and flashed as if it contained a thousand manic fireflies, while the oily sheen of the blade captured and warped the light, and sent it crawling along the wicked edge.

Rhyzkahl's lips pressed thin. Through the gestalt, he sent a single concept.
Be ready.

Like a striking cobra, he shot his scarred hand out, clamped it tight around the foul blade, then jerked it along the razor-sharp edge and away.

Even with his warning, I flinched in shock. Droplets of blood arced through the air and sizzled on the blade. Xhan shrieked with terrible delight as it
lunged
for Rhyzkahl.

Which meant, for this instant, it wasn't fixated on Mzatal.

I hurled a focused blast at Xhan and coupled it with a shout, both mental and out loud:
“Send it away, zharkat! Now!”

Mzatal gave a mutinous cry and yanked Xhan up above his head. The rakkuhr connection between the two blades flickered.

The thorns withdrew. Xhan vanished.

Mzatal dragged in a labored breath, then a deeper, more controlled one. The balance had shifted back to him, but it was too soon for me to feel relief.

“Now the other,” I urged him. “Send it away as well.”

Still on his knees, he lowered his hands and bowed his head, gazing down at Khatur.

“Mzatal, send it
away
.” I wanted to run and throw my arms around him, but I didn't trust that fucking blade. Would suck to get this far and end up with a gut full of Khatur.

Seconds ticked by while my nerves wound tight. Mzatal finally exhaled a long breath, lifted his head, and straightened his spine. But to my dismay, he slid his blade into the sheath at his side.

That's not the same fucking thing as sending it away!
I thought in frustration. Sure, it wasn't in his hand anymore, but its influence remained damn near as strong. A tidal wave of dejection threatened to suck me under. Even though the fucking knife had nearly destroyed him, he still couldn't—or wouldn't—send it away.

And here I was, oath-bound to take
both
blades from him. Even diminished as he was, I couldn't imagine wresting them away. How was I supposed to manage it when he returned to full strength?

I did my best to shake off the gloom. Nothing I could do about it right now.
We'll just stick a pin in that particular problem.

With Khatur sheathed, it was safe—safer—for me to go to Mzatal. I broke into a run but skidded to a halt when Ilana appeared a few feet beyond him. She wavered as if a strong wind would topple her. Her hide was a dull grey rather than its usual pearlescent white, and her delicate wings folded in tight as the rakkuhr retreated to leave her in a clear zone.

Without hesitation, I raised a protective rakkuhr veil around Mzatal. “Fuck off, bitch!” I snarled. “You're not taking him.”

Ilana regarded me coolly with her large violet eyes, reminding me of a parent waiting for a child to get a tantrum out of their system.

“I can hold this shit all day,” I told her with a nod to the veil.

Her head tilted. “Can you, Kara Gillian?”

Of course I couldn't, but that didn't matter. The veil was a temporary barrier to keep her away from him until the others finished sealing the rift.

And then what?
We couldn't fight Ilana the way we'd fought Xharbek. Not only was I working with a reduced gestalt, but I sure as shit didn't want to give Mzatal any excuse to call Xhan back to him. Besides, Ilana was his ptarl. He wouldn't attack her without overwhelming provocation—especially manipulated as he was. And even if, by some miracle, the rest of us found a way to take her down, Mzatal would suffer terribly as a result.

I had to make a choice: Fight for Mzatal right here and now and almost certainly lose, or bide my time and take action later. I had to hope that with Xharbek gone, the lords and the worlds weren't in the same peril as before. Even though Ilana would most likely continue to follow the course he'd laid out, she wasn't
crazy
. If I was reading matters right, she wouldn't stoop to Xharbek's level of machinations to circumvent the constraints. Moreover, until she herself proclaimed, “Fuck the lords,” I had zero reason to believe she'd do Mzatal permanent harm.

Allowing her to take him now was the right choice. And I fucking hated it. Nausea roiled my stomach at the hideous unfairness of it all. I wanted to shriek and stamp my feet and give Ilana a true temper-tantrum, but instead I simply dropped the rakkuhr veil away from Mzatal.

I'm so sorry, my beloved.

Ilana helped him to his feet with a tenderness that made me want to scream. Mzatal drew himself up straight, cast an assessing look around, and met my eyes.

It lasted for less than a hundredth of a heartbeat, but it might as well have been eons. The walls still stood as a formidable barrier around his essence, but that whisper-thin crack remained. Ilana couldn't read or sense the bond and had no idea the crack was there. Mzatal didn't dare widen it and risk drawing her attention, but he also wouldn't close it or repair it. He needed that crack, needed me more than the walls.

Through it his essence radiated, suffusing me with
him
. And, for that hundredth of a heartbeat, I had a glimpse of his perspective—how he foresaw events and actions, and planned thousands of moves in advance.

And, how he so often had to make terrible, heartbreaking
choices, like the one I'd just made, where the only solace was the hope that it would turn out all right, and that the other party would someday understand.

His gaze swept past me as if it had never stopped, eventually returning to Ilana. He offered her a slight smile. She placed a hand on his shoulder.

And then they were gone.

“Auntie Kara!” Ashava called out.

Auntie Kara?
Hey, that was me! I turned and ran to her. “What's up, kid?”

“The dimensional pocket is collapsing!” Worry twisted her delicate features. “You have to get Zakaar and Uncle Sonny.
Right now
.”

“Do I just reach for them like I did for you?”

Ashava gave a quick little nod as she wove a segment of the rift seal with Rhyzkahl. “I'll help.” Her voice was a touch higher than usual, the only evidence she was flustered. “Mom! Put your hand on my back, then hold Auntie Kara's hand.”

Jill hurried to comply. The instant she touched me, Zack's presence fluttered into my awareness, weak and unsteady.

“I got you, big guy,” I murmured. Trusting Ashava's support to guide me, I reached and made instant contact, then braced as Zack used me like an anchor point to haul his way through the interdimensions.

A heartbeat later, Sonny and Zack tumbled onto the spongy asphalt. Frost crusted their skin, and Sonny's face had a disturbing blue cast to it. He rolled to his back and sucked air in desperate gasps. Zack lay still and staring, face twisted in a grimace of pain, and body semitransparent as if he were part ghost.

Jill ran and dropped to her knees beside him. “Zack!” She shot me a frantic look. “Kara,
do
something!”

“I'm working on it,” I said, even though I had no idea how to cure a failing demahnk.

Zack croaked something I couldn't make out.

I crouched by his side. “Say again?”

“Ra . . . kkuhr.” The word came out in a raspy whisper.

“Oh shit.” We'd pulled him straight into a swirling fog of demahnk hell. “Hold on.” I didn't have the resources left for anything flashy, but more than enough to nudge the rakkuhr out of the way. Seconds later, Zack lay on rakkuhr-free ground. He looked just as faded, but he breathed easier, and the agony left his face.

Sonny groaned, rolled to his side, and puked. But at least his color was close to normal. Jill shifted to cradle Zack's head in her lap. “You're going to be okay,” she whispered.

Zack offered her a weak smile. “Better now.” He groped for my hand and wrapped fingers with barely enough substance to be palpable around mine. “Szerain. What has he done?”

“He broke the ptarl bond with Xharbek then collapsed,” I told him. “He's safe with Turek now.”

“Not safe,” he said, voice so thin a puff of breeze could have stolen the words. “Dying. Essence ruptured.”

My smile vanished as the horrific realization hit me. “And left to bleed out,” I said. It's what Xharbek would have done to me if he'd managed to rip Elinor's essence away. Szerain was dying. Zack was dying. It was
bullshit
to get this far only to lose them.

No way in hell would I let that happen without a fight. I leaned down close to Zack's ear. “Both of you are essence-wounded from having broken ptarl bonds. You volunteered to be Szerain's guard and guardian here on Earth. You kept him sane. Neither of you were free to bond then, but what's stopping you now?”

“An oath.”

“Fuck the oath,” I retorted. “How can it mean shit when it's used to perpetuate slavery and anathema?”

His fingers spasmed against mine. “You're right. It's meaningless in this new world. Better to have wholeness from two shattered halves.”

“Exactly. It makes perfect sense,” I said, though I knew a bond took place on a level that had little to do with logic. “A ptarl bond will strengthen you both and give y'all the resources to heal.”

Eons of tension seemed to drain from him. “If he is amenable.”

If he wasn't, I'd kick his ass until he was. “Turek! Bring Szerain, please.”

Jill and I shifted Zack into a sitting position. Jill tucked in behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, supporting. “Our daughter is so perfect,” she told him, voice rough. Her eyes went to where Ashava worked to finish sealing the rift. “She saved us all. From now on, we'll be right by her side, watching over her. Everything's going to be okay now.”

I hoped she was right.

Szerain's head lolled as Turek carried him over and settled beside Zack. Szerain rested against Turek's belly scales as if in a living demon-chair.

“Must touch him,” Zack said. “Must ask.”

I lifted his hand and placed it on Szerain's forearm, covered it with my own hand to keep it from slipping off.

Szerain's eyes flew open. “Zakaar.”

Zack's hand tingled under mine, and I sensed communication happening at the speed of thought.

Szerain sat taller and placed his hand over Zack's heart. “So be it.”

From beside the rift, Ashava began to sing a haunting melody that transcended language. It wound through me, familiar but not, and so mournful and joyous at the same time it hurt to experience it. She and Rhyzkahl wove the final segment of the seal, and ignited its protection.

Bryce's legs buckled as Seretis's presence left him. Idris threw an arm around Bryce and helped him sit without falling, then plopped down a couple of feet away. Bryce's eyes went to where Jill held Zack. The smallest of sighs escaped him, but then he gave an equally minute nod and looked away. Scanning for threats. Guarding.

My throat tightened. I knew exactly what had just gone through Bryce's mind, as clearly as if I had the mind-reading abilities of a lord. He loved Jill, and that little nod was him resolving to be the best friend he could be for her, to push everything else away—because to do otherwise would hurt her. He was a good, decent guy—one who'd been forced to be a bad one for far too long.

Rhyzkahl pulled a cell phone from a dimensional pocket. His demeanor revealed nothing of his feelings on seeing Zack—his parent and ex-ptarl—in this state.

Zack's face relaxed into an expression of wonder and bliss, as if an eternity of pain had suddenly lifted. He nuzzled Jill's cheek. “All is well now, precious one,” he breathed.

Hot damn. He deserved this. After all he'd been through, it was time he—

In the blink of an eye, Zack went from semitransparent to barely corporeal—like a ghost with a faintly perceptible, though still solid, outline. Brilliant sparkles gathered beneath Szerain's hand and swirled like a pool of prismatic stars. Zack's demahnk essence.

“What's happening?” Jill asked with understandable worry.

“It's going to be okay,” I said with a knowing nod, even though I had absolutely zero idea what was happening.

The sparkles began to travel up Szerain's arm. I gasped in awe as they flowed beneath my hand, each sparkle an unfathomable glimpse into a boundless universe. They swirled in Szerain's chest before fading as if absorbed. From their brief but profound touch, I understood just enough to . . . understand—though I had a feeling my brain was combing the impressions down to something that would make half-ass sense to a mere human.

The demahnk were
Ekiri
. Xharbek, Ilana, Helori, and the rest of the ptarls—the whole lot, including Rho. And the Ekiri were freaking
aliens
. Part of a big collective of telepathic non-corporeals who basically spent their immortal lives going from planet to planet, or dimension to dimension.

Their modus operandi was to take on the form of native species to observe, interact, and expand their awareness as a collective, with some remaining as non-corporeal “overseers” so the rest could roleplay to their heart's content.

Eventually, the collective would either move on or, if the world met enigmatic-to-me criteria, the overseers would take their corporeal form and “arrive” as otherworldly visitors. At this point, overseers and roleplayers alike would work toward their oh-so-noble mission of uplifting the native inhabitants.

They interfered because, why not? It was what they did and who they were. They made worlds
better.

Until they didn't.

They broke the demon realm, and Earth right along with it. Not on purpose, but eight thousand years later, the end result was the same.

The Ekiri were like potency magnets. Their mere presence in the demon realm drew potency from Earth through the connecting interdimensional umbilicus, changing the balance on both worlds. Unfortunately, the phenomenon was beyond even their
vast experience, and they were completely blind to their role in it.

In an early effort to reverse the flow, Zakaar rallied a team of nineteen intrepid Ekiri to explore, investigate, and assess Earth. It was a radical plan, considering the Ekiri had never split their collective between two worlds, but Zakaar sought a solution and would not be swayed.

The nineteen took human form and assimilated into Earth societies, all while actively fighting the outflow of potency. For two thousand years, the Earth team slowed the potency drain, but it was a losing battle, for they hadn't yet realized the true cause of the problem. Planetary instability of the demon realm increased, and the surface rakkuhr crept toward levels that were toxic to Ekiri.

During this time, Zakaar and the Earth-Ekiri immersed in the role of their chosen form. They interacted, entered into relationships, and even produced offspring who, as for eons past, were wholly of the native species—in this case, human.

Until they weren't.

To the utter shock of the Ekiri collective, after two millennia of human offspring, eleven true Ekiri-human hybrids were conceived, all of whom carried both human and Ekiri traits. Mzatal was the first, and Kadir the last, still in the womb when Zakaar and Helori discovered that not only were the Ekiri themselves the cause of the planet-disrupting imbalance, but the hybrids were beginning to cause instability on the potency depleted Earth.

Causing harm to worlds was anathema.

The Ekiri collective chose to abandon the demon realm before more damage was done—yet without intervention, both worlds were doomed. Faced with a moral dilemma, and unwilling to leave their sons to die with the planets, Zakaar and the other ten who had sired hybrids made a pact: They would remain behind in order to guide their offspring and stabilize the worlds—once again challenging Ekiri codes, though this time by separating from the collective.

Controlling strictures were overlaid, including living in the demahnk form—a close mimic of the syraza species, as they were particularly adept at potency manipulation.

Zakaar and Helori lightly manipulated the hybrids in order to suppress their resistance, then abducted them to the demon realm. The simple presence of the hybrids had an immediate
though subtle stabilizing effect on the potency-overloaded planet.

But before leaving the demon realm, the collective assigned one other Ekiri to remain as an impartial overseer. Xharbek.

The sparkle-touch faded. I blinked then sighed. It had imparted far more, but the rest would take time for me to process.

Zack's ghostly form faded to nothing, leaving Jill with an armload of empty clothing.

“Where's Zack?” she demanded. “What the fuck just happened?”

Szerain's head dropped back against Turek's scales, and he released a long, slow breath. “He's with me for now,” he said, voice utterly weary but equally calm. “He's safe. Doesn't want you to worry.”

Jill stiffened, every possible emotion other than “not worried” passing over her face. Behind her, Sonny sat up, eyes on her. I felt his talent at work, a deeply calming influence that had helped Zack make it this far.

A measure of the stress melted from Jill. “What does that mean?” she asked, looking from Szerain to me.

“He couldn't hold a physical form any longer,” I told her, drawing on the
understanding
that Zack had shared as he passed into Szerain. “But he couldn't simply go non-corporeal either because he's cut off from the other demahnk, and has been ever since he broke the bond with Rhyzkahl. He was dying.”

A flicker of movement drew my attention. I glanced up in time to see Rhyzkahl travel away with a syraza.

Ashava came and sat by her mother, snuggling in as Jill draped an arm across her shoulders and pulled her close.

“So . . . what did Zack do?” Jill asked as if unsure she wanted to know.

Ashava spoke up first. “He needed to go dormant, and Szerain agreed to host him,” she said with quiet reverence. “He couldn't survive in isolation.”

Szerain climbed to his feet with Turek's help. “He's in stasis, under my protection. It's similar to how I preserved Elinor's essence by attaching it to Kara. Also, his presence gives the wound Xharbek ripped in my essence the resources to heal. This way, we both have a chance.”

Though Jill didn't look at all happy about the situation, she seemed resigned to it. “All right. What happens now?”

“He'll conserve energy and regenerate,” I said with as much
confidence as I could stuff into my voice. “When the conditions are right, he'll be able to separate from Szerain.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What conditions?”

Ashava looked up at her. “When the demahnk reach out for him to rejoin them.”

Jill's expression took on a fierce edge as she hugged Ashava close. “Then I guess we'd we better light a fire under their asses.”

Ashava giggled and squeezed her mother's waist.

I'd picked up on other possible outcomes during Zack's sparkly essence transfer to Szerain, but I kept them to myself. I had no idea how much Ashava knew, plus Jill was already on overload. Though I had yet to fully process the “understanding,” I now grasped what Zack meant when he'd said it was better to have wholeness from two shattered halves. Zack's chances were slim, while Szerain's were good. Zack was willing to sacrifice himself for Szerain to be whole if it came down to that.

Jill didn't need to know the odds. Not at the moment, at least. Besides, we'd beaten crappy odds too many times to let them get in the way now. All we needed was a chance, and we certainly had that.