I went still at the scrape of a claw against stone, holding my breath as I waited for the sound to repeat itself. A few seconds later I heard another slow, unnerving scrape, and I clenched my teeth together as I moved. I couldn’t tell what direction the noise was coming from or even how far away it was. All I could do was keep moving forward.
My foot came up against something heavy and slightly yielding so suddenly that I almost went sprawling over it. I recovered, sucking in breath between my teeth as I took a half step back, then nudged the object carefully with my foot.
Shit. I crouched, then risked using my key-chain LED light.
It was definitely a body, but the first quick look was enough to confirm that it wasn’t Tessa or Michelle. This was a male, and for a brief crazy instant I thought it was Ryan, but then I processed the facial features, the receding hairline and neat beard. Reverend Thomas. I touched his throat, seeking a pulse but finding none. I sat back on my heels, frowning. So, had he been the Symbol Man? Or had Ryan killed him to take the power for himself? Or were you just in the wrong place at the wrong time? I’d liked him, and I wanted badly to believe the latter, but I was far too aware that my judgment hadn’t been terribly accurate lately.
I shifted to stand, then went still, gut clenching, the LED light still on. There was another body a few feet past the preacher’s.
“Fucking shit … Tessa!” I stumbled over the dead man and fell to my knees beside my aunt. She was cold and pale, and I hurriedly felt for a pulse. It was there. Barely. She’s alive. That’s all that counts.
But as my fingers lingered on my aunt’s neck, unease filled me. Yes, there was a pulse. But something didn’t feel right. I struggled to place the elusive feeling of wrongness.
She’s empty. I can’t… feel her.
Hot breath on the back of my neck warned me an instant too late. I spun and brought my weapon up to bear, but a clawed hand grasped mine, twisting the gun away savagely. I heard as much as felt the bones in my right wrist break, and I let out a strangled cry as the demon snarled at me and flung the gun away.
I gripped my arm to my chest, hissing through my teeth as I called up the words and powers of a dismissal. It would be a lot easier if I knew the name of this demon, but I would just have to make do. Seizing potency, I began to coil it into a portal.
The demon hissed and backhanded me. Pain slammed through my face and jaw as I went sprawling, though miraculously I managed to keep my arm to my chest. A part of me was aware that the demon hadn’t hit me very hard at all—at least not for him. My head would have been separated from my body if he’d used full force.
“No,” he growled, leaping over my aunt’s figure and landing to straddle me. One clawed hand gripped my shoulder, holding me firmly. He lowered his head, teeth glinting in the small light. “No, summoner. I will not be dismissed by you. I am here at the behest of another.”
“What did you do to my aunt?” I demanded through clenched teeth. “You swore on your essence!”
He rumbled. “I kept my side of the bargain. She lives.”
“That’s not alive!” I retorted, voice catching in a sob as guilt coiled in my belly. I should have answered the phone when she called!
The demon hissed. “Her heart beats yet. She lives. Do not question my honor again.”
“Fuck your honor!” I sought again to pull power to me, but fresh agony welled from my shoulder as his grip tightened. A cry of pain escaped me as I felt the claws pierce skin.
A rumbling growl came from the demon, and he leaned forward and licked my cheek, hot breath searing my skin. “It is good that you are here. Now we can commence.”
Frustration and grief twisted through me as the demon released his grip on my shoulder, only to immediately seize me by my hair and drag me toward the meeting hall. I gave a strangled cry as I grabbed at his hand with my uninjured one, doing what I could to relieve the pressure on my scalp.
The demon dumped me harshly in a dimly lit open space on the floor, causing me to bang my broken wrist and wringing another cry of pain from me. I still had my other weapon, but it was on my right ankle, which seemed miles away from my uninjured hand. Not that it would do a damn bit of good against the reyza.
I didn’t have the chance to think about it for too long. The demon seized me and pulled me to my knees, then yanked my arms behind my back and wrapped bindings around my wrists. I screamed as bone grated on bone. My vision went dark for several choking seconds as the pain crested, then finally receded into an intense sickening throb, dimly matched by the seething pain in my face and jaw. I barely noticed the demon binding my ankles as I sucked air through my teeth, head down, doing my best to avoid further agony by not moving a muscle.
A man laughed from the darkness in front of me, and I lifted my head. That didn’t sound like Ryan, which meant that this had to be Peter Cerise. Which means that Reverend Thomas isn’t the Symbol Man, I realized with an odd twinge of relief.
The demon rumbled softly from behind me, and I stared in shock as the man stepped forward. “Chief Morse?” I blurted in astonishment.
The Chief of Police of the Beaulac PD stood before me, dressed in a flowing robe of black silk shot through with crimson stitching. He smiled down at me, and for a brief insane moment I thought that he was there to help me, to try to stop Ryan. Then the reality of it came crashing in, and I cursed myself for my stupidity. It all made sense. He, not Reverend Thomas, was Peter Cerise. Chief Eddie Morse was certainly the right age and had managed to create an identity as an outsider so that no one could connect him to Greg. Light-blue eyes watched my reaction and, now that I was looking for it, I could see some resemblance to Greg. I also realized that the rumors that he’d had a face-lift were obviously true. He’d probably had cheek and chin implants as well, to further shift the lines of his face.
“What did you do to my aunt?” I snarled.
Eddie Morse/Peter Cerise gave me a cold smile. “Hello, Kara. Your aunt’s body lives, as per the terms of our agreement.” His lip curled. “Though I don’t know for how long, now that her essence has been stripped from it.” He paused, watching my face as I processed that information.
He used her, used all of her potency. She’s gone. She’s really gone. The last hope that I’d been wrong, that I’d misinterpreted what I’d felt, crumbled away. “Where’s Ryan?” I spat the name.
“Agent Kristoff is alive and well,” Cerise said as he crouched in front of me. “He was a bit of an unexpected bonus. He has enough arcane potential to add quite a bit of strength to the summoning. Makes up for Michelle being so worthless. I don’t know why my son chose to draw her.”
Michelle. He’d had her released so that he could have another sacrifice. I took a shaking breath. Ryan, you bastard! But I understood it now. “Greg liked to draw people who had arcane potential,” I said. “That’s how he could see into them.”
“Yes, and he saved me a great deal of trouble. He unwittingly gave me a handpicked stock of people whose only worth was in their spilled blood.”
“And you killed him.”
“I hated to do it.” He was silent for several heartbeats, and I could almost believe that it was true. Then his face hardened. “It was hard to give up that wonderful opportunity to find people with arcane resonance. It’s very convenient that so many people who are ‘sensitive’ tend to turn to drugs to dull the sensations that no one else can feel and that they just can’t deal with.” Cerise smiled, an unpleasant expression. “But Greg was starting to figure it out, noticing that all the victims were from his comic. He came to the station to speak to you, and he saw me there. He didn’t recognize me at the time, but I knew that he’d felt my arcane potential and would realize who I was soon enough.”