“How many summoners are there?” I asked with a tilt of my head. “I mean, I used to think there were hundreds, but that was before I knew about the cataclysm.”

Mzatal drew a deep breath. “There have never been hundreds of summoners. Hundreds, even thousands, with the potential, yes. However only a small percentage of those have adequate innate talent along with the ability and desire to channel the energies. Often the propensity found other outlets. Currently, there are fewer than a hundred with potential identified, and barely thirty who have performed a summoning.” His arm tensed over my shoulders. “If Katashi is to be believed.”

My own tension wound higher. “And you lords, you really need summoners, don’t you.”

“Yes, we do,” he said, looking over at me. “What troubles you?”

I pulled away from him and looked into his face. “How do y’all find summoners?”

His eyes met mine steadily. “Since the ways reopened, most work is done through Katashi and his agents. Demons—kehza and nyssor—assist as well with assessments.” His brow creased. “Kara, what is it that disturbs you?”

My pulse pounded unevenly as my tension wound into a tight knot inside my chest. “How…how do you make sure those with ability become summoners?”

“It is not a matter of making sure they become summoners,” he replied, eyes on mine and a hint of concern showing through. “For the generations during and after the cataclysm, those hundreds of years while the ways to Earth were closed, skills faded. As the skills were not used, the genetics shifted as well, as a continuous flow of potency is critical.” Mzatal spread his hands. “There simply are not as many potential summoners as there once were. Those that are located are assessed, and if they show promise, then training evaluations can be made. Thus, we are slowly rebuilding the population.”

I took a step back, shaking my head, wishing I could dislodge the sense that something was seriously fucked up. “I mean, if you knew of someone with the ability, you’d make sure he or she ended up in training, right?”

“That opportunity is provided, yes,” he said. “Through Katashi and his agents.” The concern in his eyes deepened. “Kara?”

“Before Tracy Gordon died,” I said, very aware of the unsteadiness of my voice, “he said, ‘they make sure we become summoners.’ Tracy’s grandparents were summoners, and his parents died under strange circumstances. If my dad hadn’t died, I’d never have been raised by my aunt—my summoner aunt.” My hands tightened into fists, nails biting into my palms. “How far do you go to make sure summoners become summoners?”

Mzatal’s face abruptly slid into the unreadable mask. Without a word, he pivoted and exited to the balcony, hands clenched into fists behind his back.

I stared after him, going cold. “Mzatal?” I hesitated, then followed him out. “Mzatal, what the fuck?” I asked, my gut clenching even tighter as I stood behind him. My dad had been killed by a drunk driver, or so I’d believed until recently.

Have you ever looked at the accident report? Tracy had said. I have. He shouldn’t have died in that wreck.

My breath clogged in my throat. “Did…did you have my dad killed?”

Mzatal dropped his head and gripped the rail, not answering.

A red haze filled my vision. “Did you kill my dad?” I hauled off and punched him hard in the back by the right kidney. He tensed, but I didn’t give a shit about reprisals or consequences. “Did you? Answer me, motherfucker!”

“Not directly. No,” he said, head still lowered and his voice strained though filled with intensity.

“Turn around, goddammit!” I demanded, my voice shaking and my hands clenched into hard fists. “What do you mean, ‘not directly’? Did you order it?”

Mzatal turned to face me, his eyes deeply haunted. “I mean that if—if—this was a deliberate act at the hands of Katashi or his agents, then I am responsible,” he said, shaking his head. “I did not order it.”

“Swear it,” I gasped, chest clenched so tight I could barely breathe. “Swear to me that you know nothing of any plan or plot to kill the parents of potential summoners.”

Mzatal went demon-lord still, tension palpable. “I give you my oath, Kara Gillian. I do not condone such.”

Relief flooded me along with a pang of grief, and I threw my arms around him as a low sob caught in my throat. He returned the embrace and lowered his head over mine, his breathing unsteady. I trembled, absolutely knowing—knowing—my dad was murdered, yet trusting Mzatal fully in his oath.

After a long moment, he spoke, the words issuing as though they came at great personal cost. “Jesral would condone such.”

It took a moment for me to gather why saying as much would have such an effect on Mzatal; he had already suspected Jesral’s involvement. Then I realized, My Dad’s death was nineteen years ago. Whether Jesral had been involved with Katashi that long or had an independent Earth presence, I didn’t know, but both possibilities held their own brand of ugliness. Of course, there was always the chance that Jesral wasn’t involved at all, but given the clues and his behavior to me, his innocence seemed unlikely.

“I will have answers from Katashi tonight,” Mzatal stated, voice tight.

I drew a ragged breath, nodded, then released him to step away. He seemed reluctant to let me go, and I wondered if maybe he wanted comfort and reassurance as much as I did. Not that a demonic lord would ever admit something like that.

“Isn’t Katashi your sworn summoner?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you know if he was doing shit behind your back?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “He is. And I should know.” He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to look out into the open space. “However with another qaztahl involved, and the possible use of rakkuhr, there are many possibilities for blurring and interference.”

“What will you do with—” I started to ask, then shook my head and turned away. “Nevermind.” I realized I didn’t want to know what he would do with a traitor of that depth.

He inhaled, expression hardening. “I have been blind.”

I shoved a hand through my hair, exhaling. “Yeah, well, I know how it feels.”

“Yes, you do.” He turned to face me and laid his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them lightly.

I looked up at him, my throat tight. “Betrayal sucks. I’m sorry you have to go through it.”

A muscle in his jaw leaped. “I have been many things, but rarely a fool.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Hang on now. You didn’t let me wallow in self blame, so you’re deluded if you think I’ll let you.”

He lowered his head slightly, and a smile ghosted over his lips. “You speak truth, Kara Gillian. I will cease to wallow.”

“That’s more like it,” I said, managing a smile. “How long before this damn summoning? Is there time for ice cream or junk food or anything good like that?”

“Idris should be ready very soon,” he said. “The ice cream will need to wait until after, unless you choose it over the summoning.”

I made a big show of hesitating and considering, then finally heaved a dramatic sigh. “Fine. I’ll do your damn summoning.” Especially since it looked like it was going to be a doozy of a confrontation with Katashi. The cop in me wouldn’t miss that for a million bucks. “But I do need to go change.”

Mzatal dropped his hands from my shoulders and raised an eyebrow. “What you wear is inadequate?”

“As if!” I rolled my eyes.

Mzatal smiled just a bit more. “Go then.”

I turned and headed out, but once outside the workroom, my smile quickly faded. The cop in me was ready for a confrontation with Katashi, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that some bad shit was coming our way.

Chapter 30

After grabbing a quick bite, I bathed and dressed in flowing crimson pants and a black wrap-type shirt that belted at the waist with a broad white sash. Apparently the zrila really liked the challenge of making clothing for someone new, and I wasn’t about to complain. I’d never been any sort of clotheshorse before—preferring the easy comfort of jeans and t-shirts—but I’d also never had a team of designers making custom clothing for me either. I could totally get used to this, and was already plotting ways to bring my new wardrobe back to Earth.