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Mzatal lifted his head, regarded Paul, and then to my mild surprise took one step back and one to the right.
“Too much,” Paul said with a shake of his head, face fixed in concentration. “Left again a little.”
Mzatal moved as instructed, went still, and drew a deep breath. “Yes.”
“Yes!” Paul exclaimed. He looked up with an exuberant grin, then his mouth dropped open as if he’d just realized what he’d done.
“Well done, Paul,” Mzatal said. Paul flushed, to my amusement.
Mzatal took my hand again. “What was that all about?” I asked quietly.
A faint smile touched his lips. “He has an affinity for the flows,” he told me. “In this world, he touches them through his devices, and it gives him unconventional access to information. Even in the demon realm he feels the flows.” Rare delight lit his eyes. “He is innocent, and it is simply natural to him, a part of who he is. I find him fascinating.”
I smiled. “You like him quite a bit.”
“I do,” he replied without hesitation. “He is . . . comfortable.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and gusts of wind whooshed through the tops of the pines. “Time to get this show on the road,” I said with a glance up at the cloudy sky. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.
Together, we danced the first seven rings of the shikvihr; Mzatal traced floating sigils that I enhanced and amplified as I followed. When those seven rings were set, I remained in the center of the diagram as Mzatal finished the remaining four. That was a first for me, and with every ring I felt the increase in potency like a vibration inside of my bones.
Once the entire shikvihr was complete, he moved to the center with me. He ignited it in a burst of potency that made my head spin—in a good way—and left me feeling energized, as though fresh from a nap and a brisk walk all at the same time. Together we walked the perimeter and assessed for any anomalies in the sigils. The wind picked up, gusts stronger and more persistent, and carrying the scent of rain.
I took note of the dark, agitated clouds. “We need to finish soon, lover. A thunderstorm is headed this way.”
Mzatal laughed. “It is indeed.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “Glorious, is it not?”
Lightning flashed nearby, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. “Yeah, glorious,” I said doubtfully. “Glorious to watch from the safety of a nice dry house.”
“No, beloved,” he said as he walked us back to the center of the diagram. “I am calling the storm.”
I stopped dead in my tracks. “The fuck?”
Mzatal gave me a sideways look, and a smile crept over his face. “I am calling the lightning. We will use it to activate the nexus.”
I felt my eyes stretch wide open. “Lightning?” I’d lived in Louisiana all my life and had a healthy respect for dangerous weather.
“Yes.” An undercurrent of excitement rippled through his voice. “I work in great harmony with lightning.”
Reluctantly, I moved to the center with him. “You do know that human bodies are kind of allergic to big jolts of electricity, right?”
“It will be an experience you will not forget, zharkat.”
“For the remaining ten seconds of my life, you mean,” I muttered, already sweating at the thought.
Mzatal turned to face me and laid his hands on my shoulders, expression serious. “Beloved, I will not allow harm to come to you,” he assured me. “But I do not wish to bring you distress. The activation will be stronger with you here with me, but I will not mandate it.”
The truth of it showed in his eyes. I exhaled softly, leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll stay, but you’d best remember that if you fry me, I won’t be much fun in the sack afterward.”
Mzatal returned the kiss, trailed his fingers along my cheek and smiled. “Then I will most assuredly not fry you.”
He moved behind me and dropped his left arm over my shoulder and across my chest, pulled me back against him. With this close connection, I felt him call the storm, felt the increasing charge in the air. He inhaled deeply, as if bringing in all of the energy from the diagram around us.
“Focus on the full pattern,” he murmured. “See all of its parts as a single unit.” He raised his free arm high above his head. “When the strike comes, send it to every aspect.”
I swallowed. “Sure. Got it. I’m an old hand at this.” Wind whipped around us and rushed through the nearby woods, as if we were the calm center of the storm. Movement caught my eye, and I looked up to see Jill and Bryce emerge from the house to watch us from the sensible shelter of the covered porch. Paul knelt in the grass halfway between the perimeter of the diagram and the house, rapt focus on us as he clutched his tablet to his chest.
“Paul!” Bryce called out. “Get under cover!”
