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Eilahn bared her teeth in a syraza smile, obviously highly amused by whatever was embarrassing Giovanni. “It is nothing of import,” she said, eyes flashing with humor. “What brings you to Seretis’s realm?”
Now I was even more determined to find the truth about Giovanni “Little Snake” Racchelli—but it was going to have to wait until I took care of the more pressing business. Damn it. “Earth’s a mess,” I said and gave her the quick and dirty recap. “Michael may be able to help, so I need to speak to Seretis or Rayst.”
“An as-yet-unmanageable anomaly manifested over the southern pole two days past,” she said. “All available lords work a grueling rotation to counter it. Rayst is there now, but Seretis rests on the east terrace. Cheytok will lead you to him.” She gestured toward a streak of blue rushing in our direction from the villa. “I will find you when your business is complete.” Her wings vibrated and her eyes glittered with excitement. “I have a surprise for you!” She gave me a quick embrace then flew off before I could respond.
“Alrighty then,” I said, amused, then continued on toward the villa. Near the end of the arch, the faas Cheytok met us, looking for all the world like a furry, six-legged lizard.
“Come come come come come!” it said in a way that reminded me of a fussing squirrel. “Way to palace is this. Way to Seretis is this.” The faas scurried off ahead, its rich blue fur glistening in the sun. “Come come come come!”
Pellini snorted. “Impatient little bastard.”
“The faas tend to be very eager,” I said, smiling.
We followed Cheytok through a trellised garden that had no doubt been breathtakingly beautiful at one time. Now dead vines covered the frameworks, and rock and leaf debris littered the ground and path. The villa itself hugged the contours of the sea stack, giving the impression that it was a natural part of the landscape. The structure would have been stunning were it not for the damage wrought by storms and the neglect that resulted from everyone being otherwise busy dealing with near cataclysmic world events.
As we walked, I kept a sharp lookout for Seretis’s ptarl, Lannist. I’d only seen him from a distance a few times and preferred to keep it that way. Bryce had told me how the demahnk dislodged a massive chunk of masonry to distract Seretis from forming the essence bond with Bryce. The ploy had ultimately failed, but the act placed Lannist high on my do-not-trust list.
Cheytok chittered continual disapproval at our human pace but faithfully led us to the east terrace, one of the few that remained intact. Seretis sat on a demon realm equivalent of a fainting couch, though I had a feeling he’d been reclining moments before.
He stood as we approached. “Kara Gillian,” he said in warm greeting, then he took my hands and kissed my cheek. “Eilahn informed me of your arrival. You and your associates are most welcome.” He smiled to the others and gave them a make-yourself-at-home gesture toward couches and cushions.
“You look like hell, Seretis,” I said, returning the cheek kiss. No point in pretending I didn’t notice the b
ags under his bloodshot eyes, the lines of exhaustion in his face, or the droop in his bearing.
He chuckled. “And here I had convinced myself that I am yet as handsome as ever.”
“You’ll always be that,” I reassured him then grinned. “I have absolute faith in your power of sexiness.”
This time he laughed, full and genuine, and a touch of the grim despondency left his face.
“Your presence is a treasure, but what brings you to my realm during such upheaval?”
“Szerain is fully himself again,” I said in a low voice, “He’s in hiding, hunted by Xharbek.”
His mouth tightened, and he traced a glowing pygah above himself, followed by an anti-eavesdropping sigil. Calm and privacy.
I placed my hand on his arm. “I sure wish the weather would cool off back home,” I offered as a change of subject. “Still hot as hell some days.” It was a bit dicey telling Seretis about Xharbek and his perfidy, since the truth about him and the other ten demahnk was one of the verboten topics that could trigger the lords’ vicious headaches.
But Seretis showed no sign of pain, only focused control. “I have been practicing,” he said softly.
Relieved, I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. Practicing to mentally dip briefly into a taboo topic while channeling his thoughts in the “acceptable” areas so as to avoid the headache. I suspected the support from his essence bond with Bryce gave him the stability, insight, and edge he needed to practice—even with the screwed up ways between the dimensions preventing direct telepathic contact.
I gave his arm a squeeze and then, for what seemed like the millionth time, told the tale of the past two months, especially the part about the rakkuhr, the rifts, and the Jontari. I wrapped up with a reminder about Szerain’s plight, while skirting the Xharbek part, then I moved on to my primary business. “Here’s the thing,” I said. “I think Michael and his talent of seeing the lords could be a huge help in locating—”
Seretis held up a hand, stopping me. “I understand your dilemma, and while I agree that Michael’s talents could prove useful, I cannot allow him to return to Earth with you. I swore to keep him safe.”
“And you’ve done that. Now let me take care of him for a while.”
“I cannot allow it,” Seretis said firmly. “He is under my protection.”
“I don’t need care sitters,” a baritone voice said. “I want to go.”
I turned to see a strapping young man barely into his twenties standing in the doorway. Michael Moran.
“Michael,” Seretis began gently, but Michael stepped onto the terrace, jaw set.
“I want to go, Seretis,” he said, voice clear and strong. “You worry about me, but I’m lots and lots better now, and I want to help Earth.”
