Fury of the Demon

“Oh,” I said in a small voice. “So you’re . . .” I nodded and struggled to smile. Was Ryan—my Ryan—gone?

“Szerain?” he finished for me. His brow furrowed. “I guess. It’s a little confusing for me. Shit, a lot confusing. I’m sorry. I don’t want to freak you out.”

I moved hesitantly to him, took his hand and peered into his face. It was Ryan’s yet more than Ryan’s, though I knew I’d never be able to explain it. My head told me it was time to grieve, told me this wasn’t Ryan anymore, but how could I grieve when he was still here?

“It’s really weird that you know about Szerain,” I said tentatively.

“You ought to try it from in here,” he said with what seemed a genuine Ryan smile. “You’re one tough chick, you know that?”

I let out a weak laugh. “Stubborn Bitch. Sheesh. Get the term right.”

“Oh, yeah. I keep forgetting.” He squeezed my hand, then blew out a breath. “So, what’s next?”

I had a feeling he meant in the grand scheme of conflict and crisis, but I didn’t have it in me to go there right now. Instead, I shrugged. “Di

He regarded me for a moment, relief in those green-gold eyes that reflected both Ryan and Szerain. “Yeah. That’s nice and normal. Let’s fix di

“Normal. Me cooking. Right,” I said, laughing a little. He craved the illusion of a normal life right now as much as I did.

“More me cooking and you,” he paused, “assisting,” he suggested. “I think that’s a better plan.”

“Safer for everyone.”

“Safety first.” He turned and opened the fridge, sca

“With double bacon, I’m in.”

Bryce and Jill joined us about halfway through the prep, and soon the kitchen echoed with jokes and banter and laughter. Each of us and all of us faced challenges and bore burdens unimaginable to ninety-nine point nine percent of the population, but for this evening we ruthlessly pushed them aside and gorged on food and friendship.

Chapter 44

The ringing of my phone jarred me from an oddly logical dream about encyclopedias and babies and ladders. I peered at the name on the caller ID and instantly shot directly to wide awake.

“Zack?”

“Hey, babe.” He didn’t sound as strained as a day and a half ago but didn’t sound at all animated either. “Caught you sleeping, huh?”

I glanced at the clock. A little after eight a.m. “Yeah, working consultant hours is kind of cool. How are you doing?”

“I’ve been lots better,” he said. “I’m not ready to leave here yet. I . . . can’t.” He went quiet for a moment. “I just wanted to talk.”

I felt the subtle desperation behind the words. “I’m here for you,” I assured him. “Eturnahl.”

“Kara,” he said in a voice so thick with emotion it brought a lump to my throat. “You’re okay? Are you?”

“I am,” I said, smiling softly at his concern. “I promise. I’m really okay.” But then I sighed out a breath. “I’m sorry if giving Vsuhl to Szerain made things harder for you.”

He echoed my sigh. “It’s so convoluted,” he said, as if the implications carried eons of pain. “I can’t process all of the possible complications yet. What I do know is that if you hadn’t given Vsuhl to him, you wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be Kara. And that’s all that means anything right now.”

A warm glow went through me. It mattered to him that I was still me. “And you’re still Zakaar. Even more than you were before.”

He remained silent for several seconds. “How is Ryan?” he finally asked.

How could I explain it? “He seems all right. We had a pretty normal evening.” Grimacing, I sat up. “Zack, he knows about Szerain, but he looks like Ryan. I don’t understand. Did you partially resubmerge him or something from a distance?”

“No,” he said as though pronouncing a death warrant. “He did that. On his own. With Vsuhl, he freed himself, and is using it to give him a measure of stability.” He made a sound like a half-sob. “But he isn’t ready.”

My worry spiked. “Zack? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this,” he said in a broken voice. “Szerain is in danger, and he’s dangerous. I can’t protect him or others. I can’t deal with it.”

“I’m not sure you have to,” I said carefully. “Not the way you did before. He may not be ready, but there’s nothing we can do about that now, and I know he’s not going to abandon you. Neither will the rest of us. Once in the posse, always in the posse.” I wanted to reach through the phone and give him a hug. “It’s going to be all right.”

“I can’t see it,” he said weakly. “But I’ll believe you.”

“You’d better,” I told him.

I heard him clear his throat softly, take a breath, release it, then take another. “Kara, have you ever killed anyone in the line of duty before?”

The abrupt change of subject had me blinking in confusion. “No, I’ve never even been in a position to . . .” I suddenly understood where he was going with this: Pyrenth. That night, when I found Zack and brought him to Jill’s house, he had no doubt sensed my pain over the reyza’s death.

“Pyrenth was the first,” I said, throat tight. “No, wait.” An uncomfortable realization struck me. “He’s the first I knew for sure. I Earth-killed a kehza and a graa, but, at the time, I assumed any demon killed on Earth made it back through the void to the demon realm.” Now I knew that, while there was a good chance a demon could return, it was by no means a certainty.

“And if they’d died before on Earth and returned—”

“Then the good chance drops to crappy,” I finished for him. A second death on Earth for a demon usually meant death for real. Eilahn had died on Earth once already, and so I worried doubly for her.

“Pyrenth had traversed the void once before.”

The implications of that simple statement left me mentally scrambling and ripped a new wound in my pain over his death. I took a moment to put it all together. Zack waited in patient silence on the other end of the line.

“When I made the decision to use deadly force to stop Pyrenth from taking Idris,” I finally said, “I was playing the odds that he’d make it through the void and back to the demon realm. My intention was to stop him, to kill him if that’s what it took, with a secondary consideration that he’d have a chance of making it home. But it was a gamble.” I closed my eyes and let out a long slow breath. “I thought his odds were better than they were, but it was always a gamble.” Explaining it, actually speaking the words out loud, helped. My respect and gratitude for Zack climbed even higher. He was going through ten tons of shit and yet he still took the time and thought and energy to help me get through this.

“I chose the blade over a bullet because it had a better chance of taking him out of the game,” I went on. “I didn’t know there were no ‘odds’ with Vsuhl, that a kill was final.”

“Pyrenth gambled too,” Zack said gently. “Rhyzkahl couldn’t force him to come to Earth. Pyrenth knew the danger and chose to come. You killed him in the line of duty, and he died in the line of duty.”

Tears pricked my eyes. Those were hard terms though ones I could understand. It still gnawed that Mzatal hadn’t warned me that dead by the blade meant Really Dead, but the heavy guilt around Pyrenth’s death abated somewhat.

“Thanks, Zack,” I said.

“Sihn,” he replied, and I heard a whisper of smile in his voice.

“You doing okay with So

“He’s a blessing. I’m not sure I’d have made it this far without him.”

At least that much was working out well. “I figured it’d be good for both of you. He needed to help someone.”

“I read him,” he said. “He’s a mess. Good pairing.”

I laughed softly. “My whole posse is fucked up. It’s perfect.”

After reassuring Zack that Jill was doing well and Steeev was taking good care of her, I hung up, found some shorts, and then followed the smell of coffee. Ryan leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded across his chest, and eyes unfocused as though lost in thought. I continued toward the coffee pot as it made its last gurgles.