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I grinned and bit in. “Whatever.”
“So what’s the deal with the runes?”
I sat down, dabbing at spilled crumbs. “They’re runes of binding and control. I think that my suspicions are right—this guy is planning a major summoning and is building an arcane prison, using these victims for the energy.” Some unpleasant theories were beginning to take shape in the back of my mind. Rhyzkahl’s fury had erupted at seeing the rune of binding. Had he been furious at the thought of any Demonic Lord being bound and controlled, or was it more personal?
Ryan sat across from me, his expression dark and brooding. “You mean it’s some kind of death magic?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes, though it’s more complex than that.”
“No need to go into details. It would probably take too long for me to understand it, and I don’t really need to. So,” he said, looking at me levelly again, “how did you get this information?”
“That’s incredibly complicated. I just need you to trust me that I’m pretty sure my information is accurate.”
“Pretty sure?” His brow creased.
“Um, well, this is going to sound weird, but I kinda got the information in a dream.”
He blinked, then fell silent for a moment. Finally he shrugged. “Well, I figure there’s a whole lot here that I don’t understand, so I’m just going to have to trust you on this one.”
“Thanks. Like I said, I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I’m about ninety-eight percent, at least.”
“So, are you going to try again tonight to summon?”
“Well, it’s not as urgent now that I have the information about the runes.” I fought the desire to wince at the sudden realization that I was deliberately finding a reason to avoid summoning. That won’t do at all. But there wasn’t time right now to deal with this new neurosis of mine.
He looked at me for several heartbeats, then stood. “All right. Well, I need to be getting back to the office. We’re going to try to meet up again this afternoon at three.”
I nodded. “I’ll be there.”
He hesitated, as if wanting to say something else. Then he shook his head, gave me a smile, and departed through the gaping hole in the front of my house.
Chapter 15
After Ryan left, I swept up the shattered wood in my foyer, then wrestled what was left of the door back into position—or at least close enough to drive a few nails into some of the longer pieces of its shattered frame as rudimentary braces.
I stepped back and looked at the door, totally baffled. A flying side kick? Up the stairs and across the porch? How the fuck had he done this much damage? But at least he’d woken me from that nightmare. Still, I’d have to scrounge some plywood later to do a better job of securing it. Hurricane season wasn’t for another month yet, so I could probably borrow one of the sheets of plywood that Tessa used to protect her store during storms.
My cell phone rang with a number I didn’t recognize just as I was putting my tools away in a kitchen drawer.
“Detective Gillian,” I answered.
“Detective? This is Greg Cerise.”
I straightened unconsciously. “Hello, Mr. Cerise. What can I do for you?”
He laughed, with a trace of what might have been uncertainty. “You can call me Greg. Look, I don’t know how this is going to sound, but, uh … I … I was just wondering if you’d had a chance to read the comic. I mean, if you wanted to, I have extra copies.” He sounded eager now, the ingenuous puppy.
“Actually, my aunt loaned me a copy of the series. I definitely want to read them, as soon as I get a chance.”
“Cool. That’s cool.” He was silent for a few seconds. “So, um, I saw an article in the paper about these murders. The Symbol Man stuff.”
“Uh-huh?”
“And … I saw that you’re the detective on the case. Right?”
“Yes, I am. Do you have some information for me?”
“Um, no. I–I was just wondering if you’d come to talk to me the other day because of something to do with those murders. I even came by the station, just in case, but you weren’t there.”
