Blood of the Demon

I gave her a grave nod, hiding my bemusement. “I appreciate that. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Becky. Becky Prejean.” She gave me a wink and then scuttled off in a flash of spandex and artificial breasts.

I took my shower and dressed, thankfully unaccosted, but my mind kept turning over the tidbits of information. Elena and Harris, huh? Well, she did say she was attracted to powerful men. Yet another interesting twist.

But was it true? I headed out to my car and cranked the AC up, then called the dispatcher and asked for a local address for a Becky or Rebecca Prejean, white female, approximately mid-thirties.

A few minutes later I thanked the dispatcher and hung up. Becky Prejean lived in Ruby Estates. Davis Sharp’s maid had said that a blonde came to see him after Elena left.

Coincidence? Probably. But Becky Prejean had raised my suspicions about a number of things, and I had a feeling I’d be driving to Mandeville again before all this was over.

The rest of my afternoon was an ambitious—and hideously necessary—combination of doing laundry, cleaning my kitchen, and scrubbing my bathroom. Usually, housework had a relaxing effect on me, but a simmering guilt plagued me throughout the day—railing at me that I wasn’t making any progress on finding what was consuming essence, and reminding me that time was ru

Four times I picked up my phone to call Ryan—twice even going so far as to start dialing his number before I stabbed at the disco

Right. Like Ryan needed any more proof that I was completely neurotic.

I gave up and fired up my computer. Bury myself in work … As long as I had some free time, I could check one other thing that I’d almost forgotten about—Judge Laurent had mentioned campaign contributions, with a strong implication that there was something significant to be seen there.

Campaign contributions were public record and, thanks to the marvels of modern technology, were also available online. It took me a few tries to find the right website, but once I did I was rewarded with more information than I knew what to do with on every election and every candidate.

Narrowing my search to only the contributions made by Davis Sharp was far more enlightening. Stu

I shifted my search parameters to look at all of Roth’s contributors. That list was impressively long, but Sharp’s name clearly stood out as Roth’s biggest contributor.

I bookmarked the page and shut my computer down. I had an extensive financial co

I was out of ideas, and it was with a nearly visceral relief that I watched the sun slip below the trees. Now I could at least assuage the part of the guilt that nagged at me about Tessa, even if the rest of my psyche remained in hopeless shambles.

I showered and changed, then headed down to my basement. This was the last stage of the call to her essence—the “arcane transponder” that would hopefully draw her back to this plane and to her body. I knew that a great deal depended on to what extent her essence had been drained during the summoning, and I knew that at some point I would have to accept the possibility that I might never get her back.

But now isn’t the time to think like that, I told myself sternly. Now was the time for confidence in the ritual, total faith that it would be simply a matter of time before Tessa was back to normal. And then get her to explain about the damn portal. And get her to give me some damn guidance.

I sketched the final portion, cautiously crabbing around the complex diagram. I winced as I stood up, and it wasn’t all from the creak of my knees from crouching for so long. Was I depending too much on my aunt? But where else was I going to get the training I still needed?

Rhyzkahl, my thoughts whispered to me, sending an odd ripple of gooseflesh across my skin. I shuddered, rubbing my arms at the thought of being tied to him any more than I already was. I didn’t—couldn’t trust him. He was ancient and powerful and well skilled at lying without ever saying an untrue word.

Worry about that shit later, I railed at my psyche. Focus!

I took a deep breath and began to cha

It’s calling and reminding her who she is. Reminding her where she belongs.

I made my way over to the cold fireplace and collapsed into the chair. There was nothing more I could do now. Rhyzkahl had warned me that it could take a long time, but I had no idea how much time Tessa had. She was already declining. A knot of grief threatened to twist my insides. It was doubtful that her body would last more than a few weeks longer.

I tipped my head back, staring up at the rafters of the basement. It was only slightly more than a week ago that I’d summoned Rhyzkahl—but it felt like a year. I still had no idea whether I would summon him again. I turned my head with a sigh and looked over at the little circle with the remnants of my aunt’s items. I knew what she would say—that I’d be a complete fool to even consider it. But I had almost three weeks to make up my mind—and that was only if I decided to call him this next full moon.

The access to knowledge was unspeakably tempting, though I could well guess that there’d be limits on it. He would dole out his information as he saw fit in order to keep me wanting more.

I pushed up from the chair. At this point, anything was better than nothing. I had a feeling I’d be needing answers for a long time.

I looked over at the diagram containing the “beacon” for Tessa’s essence, feeling and seeing the thrum of power even without shifting fully into othersight. My eyes traveled over the twined wards. Now that they were active and complete, it wasn’t as confusing, and I could begin to see how they worked. I had basically cha

My heart skipped a beat as I looked at the diagram, an odd new thought skimming through my head. If this diagram was actually storing potency, could that be done at other times as well? I could feel my breath quicken as I considered the implications of that possibility. Holy shit. This would mean that it’s possible to store potency without resorting to death magic. The Symbol Man had tortured and murdered his victims in order to amass enormous amounts of power—enough to summon and bind a demonic lord. The restrictions of the phase of the moon had always chafed at me but never enough to be willing to resort to such hideous methods. Summonings required a smooth and consistent flow of potency, and fluctuations or hiccups could prove disastrous when opening a portal. But if there was a way to gradually bleed power off into a diagram and then pull it back out for use … I reached for the back of the chair, the unspeakable elation nearly overwhelming.