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“Shut the fuck up!” I yelled at Katashi. Was he insane? Taunting a pissed off Idris while bound hand and foot had to be near the top of the Stupidest Things To Do list. I grabbed Idris’s arm to pull him away, but he shrugged me off, his eyes locked on the old summoner. Pellini grabbed a scrap of newspaper from the ground and tried to shove it in Katashi’s mouth, even as Bryce swooped in to intervene.
A shock like the jolt from a Taser went through me, and everyone but Idris staggered back from Katashi. Son of a bitch. That had to have been one of Katashi’s force field wards.
“Idris!” I gasped. “Look for wards!”
Idris shook with tension. Bryce reached for him then yanked his hand back with a hiss of pain.
Katashi stood straighter, regarding Idris with undisguised elation. “Her rape and sodomy were spectacular, yes? A shame I needed her blood for the ritual. I miss her talented mouth around my cock.”
Idris leaped at Katashi with a primal scream of rage. He slashed the knife out. Once. Twice. Katashi’s throat gaped red as blood sprayed out. He crumpled to the ground, breath bubbling from the gash. I swore the old man was laughing.
Idris stood tall, nostrils flaring, knife clenched in his hand as he watched Katashi gurgle his last breath.
Pellini and Bryce looked on, expressions grim. My hands trembled as I grappled for an explanation. Katashi wasn’t stupid. We were. He’d baited Idris on purpose. Why? To protect the valve information?
I wiped a hand over my face and caught Pellini’s eye. “Let’s get the body out of sight. This one would be hard to ex—”
Blinding light blossomed on Katashi’s chest and spread in deep channels over his body. The arm I held shuddered and flared, and I dropped it like a hot poker. Before it hit the ground, the light engulfed Katashi, and he and the arm disappeared with a ripping crack.
We all stared in shocked silence at the empty and discolored patch of asphalt.
I found my voice first. “What the fuck just happened?”
Chapter 39
I stared at the place where Katashi most certainly was not anymore. Even his blood had vanished. “He was a demon?”
“No way,” Idris croaked. “No.” He held up a hand in denial. “That makes no sense. Has to be something else.”
“An implant,” I said, groping for any possible explanation. “Like . . . like one of the lords’ recall implants. Maybe a self-destruct implant set to activate when he dies.” I liked that theory a lot more than one that had him passing through the void and waking up with his allies in the demon realm. So what if my theory had more holes than a colander.
Idris dropped his gaze to the knife in his hand, expression stricken. “We needed him.”
“He’s gone, Idris,” I snapped. “And he’d be just as gone if his ass hadn’t burned up, thanks to a certain slit throat.”
He glared at me, then gave a strangled cry and slammed the knife closed. “I let him taunt me into ruining everything!”
He wasn’t processing info very well. Neither was I, for that matter. Overload much? “Nothing we can do about that now,” I said, striving for calm. “We have to prioritize the shit we can do.”
“We need to get out of here,” Bryce said. He glanced toward Pellini’s truck where Jill remained tucked away in the back seat. “They’ve cleared the main street enough to get emergency vehicles in, which means we can get out once we move the debris blocking the truck into the lot.”
Without a word, Pellini took Idris by the arm and marched him toward the parking lot entrance. I used my shirt to mop sweat from my face. “Good. He’ll center Idris with manual labor.” Emergency workers were starting to set up floodlights in preparation for a long night. “Am I a bad person for wanting to leave when there’s so much to be done here?”
“You’re exhausted,” Bryce said without hesitation. “You’ve had a huge day and are on the verge of collapse. The mass casualty teams have it. You’re more of a detriment than a help at this point.”
I smiled weakly. “Gee, thanks.” But it was true. Every joint and muscle in my body ached, and I felt as if I’d been on sensory overload since morning. My brain was mush.
“What the hell is that?” Bryce said as he crouched and examined a pinkish lump on the pavement.
I bent for a closer look, then prodded it with the toe of my shoe to flip it over. Wrinkly skin and a layer of underlying tissue about the size of my palm. “Oh. Ew.” I shuddered. “I can’t see the arcane part of this, but I bet my sweet dimpled ass that Mzatal’s mark is on that thing, which blocked it from discorporeating with the rest of the arm.” I picked it up with two fingers and then didn’t know what to do with it.
“Souvenir,” Bryce said.
“Maybe it’ll still be useful,” I scooped up a scrap of paper and wrapped the skin in it before sticking the bundle in a side pocket. “Easier to carry around than an arm.”
“Not as much pizazz though.” He squeezed my shoulder. “You keep an eye on things, and I’ll go help with the heavy lifting. We won’t be long.” With that he headed off toward the parking lot entrance where Pellini and Idris shifted rubble. My unassuming hero.
My phone rang, and I snatched it from my belt. Boudreaux. “Hey!”
