The seventh ring poured from me effortlessly as well, each sigil joining harmoniously with the next as I traced and danced. I felt the grove activate with Kadir’s arrival, but I ignored it, utterly focused. Nine sigils, ten. I’d never played sports, but I knew now what it meant to be “in the zone,” because I was dead center. Even the awareness that Mzatal watched from beyond the outer ring didn’t faze me. I had this shit.
I traced the eleventh and last sigil in the ring, ignited the series, then looked over at Mzatal with a proud and silly grin on my face. “Pretty, ain’t it?”
He moved carefully through the rings, hands behind his back as he assessed. “Well done, zharkat,” he said with a warm smile.
“Thanks,” I said, exultant. I wiped sweat from my face with my sleeve. “Now hook ’em up so you can send me to Earth.”
He chuckled low. “We must work on your lack of assertiveness, beloved.” He kissed me lightly then moved behind me, draped his arm over my shoulder and pulled me against him. I leaned back and carefully followed his method as he wove the rings together. Without this step, the seventh ring was little more than a pretty circle of sigils.
“Now ignite the whole,” he murmured.
I took a moment to savor the accomplishment I’d worked toward for months, then ignited the unified rings in a flare of potency that left me dizzy even as it infused me. Mzatal held me to his chest and rewarded me with a rare delighted laugh that echoed through our connection.
“That’s even prettier,” I said with a grin as I shifted to face him.
“So it is.” He held me close and gave me a toe-curling victory kiss, then broke it reluctantly, and nuzzled my cheek. “The ritual will be ready in less than two hours. Ilana will bring you to the nexus at that time.”
Still smiling, I kissed him soundly then dispelled the rings. “I’d better go bathe and pack.”
Chapter 4
I returned to the rooms I shared with Mzatal to find that Faruk had already carefully packed my duffel. To my delight and relief, the sweet faas had not only included my Earth clothing, but she had also selected a variety of the lovely garments made for me here in the demon realm by the clever little demons called zrila. After thanking Faruk effusively for saving me the trouble, I tossed in one or two little keepsakes, then made a quick trip to Idris’s room.
The faas had straightened up, made the bed, and put clothing away, but otherwise everything in the room was the same as Idris had left it four months ago. I found his hairbrush in the bathing chamber and pulled a few dozen blond and curling hairs from it, then put them and his toothbrush in a small cloth bag. Arcane power was cool and awesome, but DNA testing was pretty damn neat as well, and I intended to find out once and for all if Idris was my cousin.
I put the cloth bag in my duffel, then had nothing to do but wait with zero patience for the ritual. At long last all was prepared, and Ilana transported me down to the black sand beach near the nexus, saving me the walk down the bajillion stairs that hugged the cliff face. Running up them had become an almost enjoyable mind and body clearing ritual. However, it also cleared the pores with gallons of sweat, and since I didn’t really want to arrive back home a sodden mess, I expressed my deep gratitude to Ilana once we arrived on the beach. Though I didn’t see her, I knew Eilahn was somewhere close by, watching.
To the right the waterfall ended its five hundred foot plummet into a deep sea pool. To the left stood a large raised circle of basalt surrounded by eleven dark columns—Mzatal’s nexus. Unlike the utilitarian nexus Rhyzkahl and Jesral had created in the rainforest, this structure had stood for millennia as an augmented arcane hotspot that capitalized on a convergence of power flows. Eleven was the “magic” number for arcane work in the demon realm, based on the eleven lords, the qaztahl, who kept it all flowing. Above the surface of the nexus a hundred or more floaters of brilliant colors twisted and drifted, while Mzatal and Kadir stood on the far side, deep in a debate over the best means to finalize the section of sigils before them.
I felt the readiness of the ritual, the thrum of potency. Cold fear threatened to pry its way in, warning me of the perils of entering a ritual, especially one that had been formed by one of the Mraztur. I trust Mzatal, I reminded myself. Besides, there was no fucking way I was going to show fear in front of Lord Creepshow.
By the time I reached them, the debate between the two lords had been settled. Kadir stood back, his eyes on me, saying nothing, which was fine with me. Mzatal took my hand, and together we stepped onto the basalt and into the vortex energy of the nexus. I paused a moment, clung to his hand while I recovered my equilibrium, then moved carefully with him through the floaters to the center.
Mzatal laid his hand against the side of my face, caressed my cheek with his thumb. “I have much to do to prepare for my own departure,” he told me, “but I will be here, awaiting your summons, in twenty-four Earth hours.”
“You’d better be,” I said, smiling. “I don’t want to have to hunt you down.”
Kadir moved in my peripheral vision, and I riveted my focus on Mzatal’s face to help me avoid all thoughts of Creepshow’s involvement. After a lovely moment of saying goodbye, Mzatal released me and retreated to the perimeter of the diagram. Together, he and Kadir walked the full circle, then ignited the floaters with a dizzying rush of upward spiraling energy.
When I felt the ritual set, I slung the strap of my duffel over my shoulder, smiled and blew Mzatal an exaggerated kiss. “See you soon, Boss.”
The ritual coalesced around me like viscous slime, icy cold and smothering. My smile disappeared as alarm shot through me. This wasn’t right. I’d been summoned twice before and both times it felt like being dragged through shards of glass. Hideously unpleasant, yet this was far different. Worse, even though it didn’t have the same flaying pain.
The energy wrapped around me like the coils of a snake, squeezing the air from my lungs. I fought to suck in a breath, to move, to twitch, abruptly reminded far too much of the confining potency that had bound me during Rhyzkahl’s torture.
Mzatal and Kadir continued to work the flows side by side, focused and calm as though everything was going exactly as planned. But whose plan? I wondered as I fought against the rising panic. Suffocation sure as hell wasn’t in mine. Had Kadir found a loophole in Mzatal’s careful agreement? The potencies held me fast, pressed me inward upon myself, squeezed the breath from me. I struggled, consumed now with the need to get the hell out of the center of the nexus, to move, to do anything to stop this.
I felt Mzatal’s intimate touch flow through me, urging me to peace. Felt him. Felt the calm assurance.
It wasn’t enough to overcome the stab of primal terror, the memories of Rhyzkahl’s vile blade parting my flesh as I was held bound, immobile, far too similar to how the slime held me now. I tried to scream, to plead with Mzatal, but had no breath to do so.
Still Mzatal persisted, suffusing me with his steady presence, flooding me with reassurance and calm. He spoke, and though I couldn’t hear the words, I read them upon his lips, felt them in my core.
I am here, zharkat. Peace, beloved. Here, Kara. Here.
The panic slipped away, and I extended, met his eyes.
He lifted his hands and thrust them downward in a final gesture. The world twisted and, with a wrenching pull, the constricting slime and sunlight above gave way to weightlessness in silent, icy darkness. Cold seared through my bones, froze even the concept of movement. No sound, no scent, nothing but the void.