“Got it covered,” he said with a sharp nod.

I gave him a parting smile and headed toward the back.

Chapter 22

Mzatal stood on the sweet spot in the grass, hands behind his back and eyes closed in a familiar stance of focused concentration. He opened his eyes as I approached. “Zharkat. I am ready to begin.”

“Tell me what I need to do.”

He took my hand, drew me to him. Carefully and patiently, he explained the process and showed me the needed sigils for the diagram, and for the rest of the afternoon we prepared the unassuming patch of grass. For the first hour we did little else but clear residue and stabilize the power of the confluence, like pressure washing grease-encrusted drainage pipes. After that came the foundation anchors sunk deep, and meticulously woven flows. Then dozens upon dozens of rings of sigils, with every link checked and double-checked. Jekki kept us amply supplied with food and tunjen, and after more than four hours of work—and a quick potty break for me—we felt ourselves ready to begin the ritual itself.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as we returned to the confluence, and I glanced up at the sky. Clouds hid the sun, and little gusts of wind whipped high branches. As I lowered my gaze, I caught sight of Jill at the kitchen window, watching with avid curiosity though I doubted she could see any of the sigils. We probably looked rather weird as we walked around in seemingly random circles in my back yard.

Jill grinned and waved at me, but then pointed toward Mzatal and made a point of fanning herself. I grinned right back at her, ridiculously pleased that she’d made it over to see my mega-hot boyfriend. Wait ’til she sees him up close, I thought, chuckling low as I returned my attention to my work.

While I checked the sigils around the perimeter, Mzatal walked spirals, a slight frown on his face. Paul emerged from the house, tablet in hand, looked out to us then down at the tablet. Mzatal’s frown deepened, and he stopped, eyes on the ground.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I am unable to locate the virtual center.” Frustration rolled from him like a slow tumble of boulders. “All is shifting, and I need the precise alignment.”

“One step back and one to the right,” Paul said, eyes glued to the tablet as he crossed the grass toward us and stopped about ten feet away.

Mzatal lifted his head, regarded Paul, and then to my mild surprise took one step back and one to the right.

“Too much,” Paul said with a shake of his head, face fixed in concentration. “Left again a little.”

Mzatal moved as instructed, went still, and drew a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Yes!” Paul exclaimed. He looked up with an exuberant grin, then his mouth dropped open as if he’d just realized what he’d done.

“Well done, Paul,” Mzatal said. Paul flushed, to my amusement.

Mzatal took my hand again. “What was that all about?” I asked quietly.

A faint smile touched his lips. “He has an affinity for the flows,” he told me. “In this world, he touches them through his devices, and it gives him unconventional access to information. Even in the demon realm he feels the flows.” Rare delight lit his eyes. “He is innocent, and it is simply natural to him, a part of who he is. I find him fascinating.”

I smiled. “You like him quite a bit.”

“I do,” he replied without hesitation. “He is . . . comfortable.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and gusts of wind whooshed through the tops of the pines. “Time to get this show on the road,” I said with a glance up at the cloudy sky. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long.

Together, we danced the first seven rings of the shikvihr; Mzatal traced floating sigils that I enhanced and amplified as I followed. When those seven rings were set, I remained in the center of the diagram as Mzatal finished the remaining four. That was a first for me, and with every ring I felt the increase in potency like a vibration inside of my bones.

Once the entire shikvihr was complete, he moved to the center with me. He ignited it in a burst of potency that made my head spin—in a good way—and left me feeling energized, as though fresh from a nap and a brisk walk all at the same time. Together we walked the perimeter and assessed for any anomalies in the sigils. The wind picked up, gusts stronger and more persistent, and carrying the scent of rain.

I took note of the dark, agitated clouds. “We need to finish soon, lover. A thunderstorm is headed this way.”

Mzatal laughed. “It is indeed.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “Glorious, is it not?”

Lightning flashed nearby, followed by a deep rumble of thunder. “Yeah, glorious,” I said doubtfully. “Glorious to watch from the safety of a nice dry house.”

“No, beloved,” he said as he walked us back to the center of the diagram. “I am calling the storm.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “The fuck?”

Mzatal gave me a sideways look, and a smile crept over his face. “I am calling the lightning. We will use it to activate the nexus.”

I felt my eyes stretch wide open. “Lightning?” I’d lived in Louisiana all my life and had a healthy respect for dangerous weather.

“Yes.” An undercurrent of excitement rippled through his voice. “I work in great harmony with lightning.”

Reluctantly, I moved to the center with him. “You do know that human bodies are kind of allergic to big jolts of electricity, right?”

“It will be an experience you will not forget, zharkat.”

“For the remaining ten seconds of my life, you mean,” I muttered, already sweating at the thought.

Mzatal turned to face me and laid his hands on my shoulders, expression serious. “Beloved, I will not allow harm to come to you,” he assured me. “But I do not wish to bring you distress. The activation will be stronger with you here with me, but I will not mandate it.”

The truth of it showed in his eyes. I exhaled softly, leaned in and kissed him. “I’ll stay, but you’d best remember that if you fry me, I won’t be much fun in the sack afterward.”

Mzatal returned the kiss, trailed his fingers along my cheek and smiled. “Then I will most assuredly not fry you.”

He moved behind me and dropped his left arm over my shoulder and across my chest, pulled me back against him. With this close connection, I felt him call the storm, felt the increasing charge in the air. He inhaled deeply, as if bringing in all of the energy from the diagram around us.

“Focus on the full pattern,” he murmured. “See all of its parts as a single unit.” He raised his free arm high above his head. “When the strike comes, send it to every aspect.”

I swallowed. “Sure. Got it. I’m an old hand at this.” Wind whipped around us and rushed through the nearby woods, as if we were the calm center of the storm. Movement caught my eye, and I looked up to see Jill and Bryce emerge from the house to watch us from the sensible shelter of the covered porch. Paul knelt in the grass halfway between the perimeter of the diagram and the house, rapt focus on us as he clutched his tablet to his chest.

“Paul!” Bryce called out. “Get under cover!”

Paul didn’t move or even acknowledge him. Bryce scowled, said something I couldn’t hear and pointed for Jill to stay against the wall of the house. He leapt off the porch and hurried toward Paul, staying low as leaves and large drops of rain lashed through the air. “Paul! Jesus, kid. You need to get out of here!”

Paul startled as Bryce put a hand on his shoulder. “What?” He jerked his eyes up to Bryce. “No. I’m okay.”

Bryce shielded his face with his forearm. “Yeah?” he shouted over the wind. “You’re giving me a heart attack.”

Paul’s face filled with sudden worry, then he scrambled to his feet and returned to the porch with a deeply relieved Bryce right behind him.

With one hand still held high, Mzatal tightened his arm around me. “Now, zharkat.”