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The demon dumped me harshly in a dimly lit open space on the floor, causing me to bang my broken wrist and wringing another cry of pain from me. I still had my other weapon, but it was on my right ankle, which seemed miles away from my uninjured hand. Not that it would do a damn bit of good against the reyza.
I didn’t have the chance to think about it for too long. The demon seized me and pulled me to my knees, then yanked my arms behind my back and wrapped bindings around my wrists. I screamed as bone grated on bone. My vision went dark for several choking seconds as the pain crested, then finally receded into an intense sickening throb, dimly matched by the seething pain in my face and jaw. I barely noticed the demon binding my ankles as I sucked air through my teeth, head down, doing my best to avoid further agony by not moving a muscle.
A man laughed from the darkness in front of me, and I lifted my head. That didn’t sound like Ryan, which meant that this had to be Peter Cerise. Which means that Reverend Thomas isn’t the Symbol Man, I realized with an odd twinge of relief.
The demon rumbled softly from behind me, and I stared in shock as the man stepped forward. “Chief Morse?” I blurted in astonishment.
The Chief of Police of the Beaulac PD stood before me, dressed in a flowing robe of black silk shot through with crimson stitching. He smiled down at me, and for a brief insane moment I thought that he was there to help me, to try to stop Ryan. Then the reality of it came crashing in, and I cursed myself for my stupidity. It all made sense. He, not Reverend Thomas, was Peter Cerise. Chief Eddie Morse was certainly the right age and had managed to create an identity as an outsider so that no one could connect him to Greg. Light-blue eyes watched my reaction and, now that I was looking for it, I could see some resemblance to Greg. I also realized that the rumors that he’d had a face-lift were obviously true. He’d probably had cheek and chin implants as well, to further shift the lines of his face.
“What did you do to my aunt?” I snarled.
Eddie Morse/Peter Cerise gave me a cold smile. “Hello, Kara. Your aunt’s body lives, as per the terms of our agreement.” His lip curled. “Though I don’t know for how long, now that her essence has been stripped from it.” He paused, watching my face as I processed that information.
He used her, used all of her potency. She’s gone. She’s really gone. The last hope that I’d been wrong, that I’d misinterpreted what I’d felt, crumbled away. “Where’s Ryan?” I spat the name.
“Agent Kristoff is alive and well,” Cerise said as he crouched in front of me. “He was a bit of an unexpected bonus. He has enough arcane potential to add quite a bit of strength to the summoning. Makes up for Michelle being so worthless. I don’t know why my son chose to draw her.”
Michelle. He’d had her released so that he could have another sacrifice. I took a shaking breath. Ryan, you bastard! But I understood it now. “Greg liked to draw people who had arcane potential,” I said. “That’s how he could see into them.”
“Yes, and he saved me a great deal of trouble. He unwittingly gave me a handpicked stock of people whose only worth was in their spilled blood.”
“And you killed him.”
“I hated to do it.” He was silent for several heartbeats, and I could almost believe that it was true. Then his face hardened. “It was hard to give up that wonderful opportunity to find people with arcane resonance. It’s very convenient that so many people who are ‘sensitive’ tend to turn to drugs to dull the sensations that no one else can feel and that they just can’t deal with.” Cerise smiled, an unpleasant expression. “But Greg was starting to figure it out, noticing that all the victims were from his comic. He came to the station to speak to you, and he saw me there. He didn’t recognize me at the time, but I knew that he’d felt my arcane potential and would realize who I was soon enough.”
That’s when he called me, I realized. He had a feeling something wasn’t right. “And Reverend Thomas?”
“A convenient tool. I’m on the board of directors for this shithole, and meetings with the reverend gave me an excuse to come here and find out who Greg was drawing. Unfortunately, he decided to work late tonight. Wrong place, wrong time.” He shrugged. “It’s too bad, really. You’re not a bad detective at all. You got further than I ever expected. My last summoning failed, but a summoner’s blood should guarantee success this time. Your aunt, as strong as she is, won’t be quite enough, though she was a pleasant bonus.” His mouth curved into a smirk. “After I saw you reading the arcane resonance on the body at the wastewater plant, I did some digging in your personnel file and realized who your grandmother was. I then began to wonder if you might have inherited her gift. I was delighted to find out that you had. But I was even more delighted to discover that your weird aunt was the little bitch who’d helped my son sabotage the summoning that would have saved his mother.”
I stared at him as a piece of the puzzle clicked into place. He thought that Greg and Tessa had ruined the summoning on purpose. No wonder he’d allowed Greg to think that he had died in the fire!
“I had my demon seize her, intending to use her as a sacrifice. But then he informed me that Tessa was also a summoner.” He practically spat her name, and a glint of fury and hatred flashed in his eyes. “It was a joy to drain her, to feel her life force seep from her body and into my own control.”
Impotent rage and shock surged through me. A summoner had to form part of the circle with blood for any sort of greater summoning. And there was nothing that said it had to be the summoner who was actually leading the ritual. He’s going to link through me and drain me dry, I realized, both in blood and in power, while he remains whole and strong. Just as he had done to Tessa.
“This is all revenge?” I demanded. “All because your summoning failed disastrously thirty years ago?”
“Once again you prove your skills as a detective. You’ve obviously spoken at length to my son and your aunt about it. And I knew that threatening to pull you off the case would only goad you to take even more risks.” His lips curled back in a grin. “So I guess you know who I intend to summon?”
“Rhyzkahl,” I choked out. “He’s too powerful for you. You’ll never be able to contain him.”
“Yes, he’s powerful. And, yes, I’ll be able to contain him and control him. I’m ready this time. I’ve had decades to prepare. And now I have the potency of two summoners to use as I see fit.” He stood and glanced behind me at the demon that towered over us both. “Plus, I have Sehkeril here as my ally.” His smile widened. “Sehkeril will gain a great deal of status with his lord once Rhyzkahl is contained and his realm is captured.”
I craned my neck to look up at the demon. “You’re still nothing but a pawn,” I sneered. “You aren’t a lord. You’re merely a reyza. You’ll get a pat on the head and a cookie.”
The demon snarled and lifted a clawed hand.
“No, don’t kill her!” the summoner commanded. “She’ll be dead soon enough.” Then his smile grew icy as he looked down at me. “Behave yourself, or I’ll give you to him for some sport before we begin.”
My gut clenched even though I knew it was an empty threat. He would need to begin the summoning soon, and there’d be no time for the demon to enjoy raping me. I hoped. Still, I found myself shaking. Good plan, Kara. Piss off the demon while you’re helpless. This might be a good time to ease up on being such a smart-ass.
Cerise could see my reaction, and he laughed. “This is going to be a good night. I have my revenge against the whelp who ruined my summoning before, and soon I’ll have in my control the Demonic Lord who slew my wife.” He yanked his robes open at his chest, revealing an intricate twining of scars that I abruptly realized was an exquisite depiction of the symbol. “He gave me pain,” he said, as he let his robes fall closed again. He pushed his sleeves up to show me the uneven sheen of long-healed burns. “And I will return that pain to him a hundredfold.” He stooped again, reaching and yanking my backup gun out of my ankle holster. “It’s common knowledge that you wear a backup, m’dear,” he said. Then he tipped his head back, inhaling deeply and dramatically. “It is time. Bring her to the circle.”
Tears of pain and anguish filled my eyes as the demon dragged me farther into the meeting hall, dropping me to flop onto my side just outside the circle. I struggled to keep my broken wrist close to my body, trying to minimize the agony.
Squat candles placed in precise order around a large diagram threw a dim flickering light, barely visible in the illumination coming from the moon. A sharp, bitter smell drifted through the room, as if someone had been burning ants on hot metal. The diagram was at least three times the size of anything I had ever used. It needed to be that big, I realized, feeling ill. He was going to have a great deal going on—calling an incredibly powerful Demonic Lord, with at least two sacrifices in the center.
I could see a bound figure already in the center of the circle. Michelle. A flare of helpless anger tightened my belly. There was nothing I could do for her. I had no idea how to save myself, much less her. The girl was nude, bound at wrists, elbows, knees, and ankles, gagged but not blindfolded. Michelle’s eyes met mine, eyes that were wide and wild, stark with more terror than the girl had likely ever even conceived of before.
