Текст книги "Touch of the Demon"

Автор книги: Diana Rowland

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 31 страниц)

Chapter 18

The antechamber swallowed me, overly spacious, overly white, and utterly barren, as though decor had gone missing. The opulence and splashes of color in the rest of the palace warmed and augmented the white, but here, it was unbroken winter. I hurried across the expanse of floor, demon-marble chilling my bare feet.

With a breath of relief, I passed through the open door of the summoning chamber itself, its dark gray walls and floor and pleasing warmth a startling contrast to the room behind me. It seemed the lords had identical summoning chambers, which I guessed had to do with function rather than taste. Hundreds of sigils ringed the chamber, too many to even begin to puzzle out their purpose or meaning. All pulsed faintly, yet to be ignited and activated. That’s what we’ll be doing, I realized, tension and a vague worry twined with a near breathless excitement. I didn’t know how this sort of ritual worked, but it still excited me to be intimately involved in such a creation.

Rhyzkahl stood with his back to me, barefoot and wearing almost the same thing he’d worn on my first accidental summoning of him: cream-colored leather breeches that hugged the muscles of his legs, and a white shirt of some sort of silky material. I controlled my impatience and nerves while he completed a sigil. Finally, he turned to me.

“Close the door,” he said. “Then ignite the sigil upon it.”

I shut the heavy door but paused, frowning as I peered at the sigil. It was a deeply complex thing, with whispers of something intimately familiar. Yet I had no idea how to do what he asked.

“Use your connection with the grove. Ignite it as you would a closure seal for a portal, but draw the grove energy as well,” Rhyzkahl said. “It is a source of deep power, and its use to ignite the master seal will offer the greatest anchoring and shielding for the ritual.”

I nodded, then drew on the grove and extended to the sigil. An instant later it flared to life, igniting a chain of patterns that ran along the perimeter of the chamber. I exhaled in delight, the weirdness with Jesral forgotten.

“Excellent,” Rhyzkahl said. “Without a summoner controlling the portal from the exterior, it is vital that the room be deeply shielded and solidly anchored when the portal opens.”

I didn’t have to ask him what could go wrong if it wasn’t. An unshielded portal could do very bad things. I wanted to get back to Earth in one piece, thank you.

“Are you ready to begin?” he asked.

“I am,” I replied, smiling.

He lowered his head slightly, hair falling forward to frame his face and drop it into shadow as he held his hand out to me. My pulse quickened as I crossed through the diagram to take his hand.

With his other hand he sealed the patterns, then pulled me in closer. He looked down on me, eyes veiled and distant. “You have come to me, dear one,” he said, a smile with a hint of sadness curving his mouth. “To go home.”

After my encounter with Jesral, I didn’t know what Rhyzkahl had gone through to make this ritual happen. Something sure seemed to weigh on him, and I didn’t want to add to it, just go home. I smiled up at him. “Yeah. And thank you,” I said, giving his hand a squeeze.

Slowly, he lifted his head to look beyond me as if thinking of something else. Mentally prepping for the ritual, I figured. Excitement wound through me for multiple reasons, and I had to firmly tamp down the desire to jump up and down or laugh or anything else that would no doubt seriously fuck up Rhyzkahl’s focus.

I glanced around at the myriad of sigils, then scanned the arcanely traced glyphs on the floor. There’d only been about a half dozen in Mzatal’s purification ritual. Here, they covered a good portion of the summoning chamber floor. My eyes rested on the center—Rhyzkahl’s mark. I frowned. Something about the glyph next to it looked familiar. I was sure I’d seen it before, but damn, I couldn’t place it.

I looked up as Rhyzkahl drew a deep breath and dropped his gaze back to me. “I do not always get what I want,” he said, which confused me at first until I remembered that I’d asked him that question the other day. But why was he telling me now? Did he want me to stay here in the demon realm?

He released my hand, expression unreadable as he laid a hand against the side of my face. “Soon you will be gone,” he murmured.

I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re going to miss me.”

His only response was to look out over my head again, muscle in his jaw twitching. Maybe he really would miss me? He wasn’t one for sharing his deeper feelings, but he certainly didn’t seem to be eager to send me on my way. A whisper of doubt crept in. As much as I enjoyed my time with the lord, I had no desire to stay here any longer.

I put my arms around him and gave him a light squeeze. “Don’t worry,” I told him with a smile. “I’ll summon you soon enough. We still have another two and half years or so on our current deal.”

But to my surprise he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me back enough to disengage from my embrace. His face hardened briefly before he turned away from me. “There is much more than summoning.”

My doubt increased. “I know. I’ve seen so much.” Surely he wasn’t reconsidering sending me home? “I’ll definitely have new and interesting questions for you next time I summon you.” My smile slipped as he remained facing away, hands clenched into fists at his sides, shoulders rising and falling with quickened breaths. “Rhyzkahl?” I set a hand gently on his back. “You okay?”

He went still at my touch, so still I wasn’t even certain he breathed. I slid my hand up to his shoulder. “Rhyzkahl, please tell me what’s wrong.” I gave a somewhat shaky laugh. “You’re kinda freaking me out a bit.”

He turned and looked down at me, face alive with emotions I’d never seen in him before. Uncertainty. Worry. Something akin to desperation flickered in his eyes as he caught my face in his hands. What the hell was going on with him? More bullshit with other lords? Something with Jesral? That one sure as hell had his own agenda. Definitely time for me to get my ass back home before I got dragged into any of that lord shit.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said softly. “How about a goodbye kiss?”

Rhyzkahl hesitated only a heartbeat before dropping his mouth to mine in an ardent kiss. I relaxed eagerly into it as I skimmed my hands up his chest and around his neck, slid my fingers through the white-blond silk of his hair. I felt the tension in him ease as he wrapped arms around me, clinging to me. I was going to miss him too, I realized, as odd as our relationship was.

I expected him to break the kiss and begin the ritual, but he continued as if he couldn’t get enough of me. He pulled me close to him, one hand sliding down to cup my ass. A shudder ran through me, and I obligingly rocked my hips against the growing evidence that he was possibly wanting more than a simple goodbye kiss. Some hot sex for the road? Yeah, I was okay with that. I quickly worked the buttons of his shirt loose and slipped it from his shoulders. He shook it free of his arms to let it fall to the floor, then brought his hands to my waist, gathering the dress and breaking the kiss to pull it over my head. His eyes flashed with hunger and the hint of desperation again. But it was gone before I could fully register that it was there at all.

He gently lowered me to the floor in the center of the diagram. I flicked a quick glance at the sigils, for a moment paranoid that this “goodbye fuck” was somehow meant to power the diagram, but they remained quiescent. Good. Because that would’ve been weird.

He slipped his breeches off and returned to cover me, hair falling over me in a curtain of silk as he held my face gently between thumb and fingers of one hand. “In this moment, we are right here, right now,” he said, voice resonating with intensity. “Nothing else is of import.”

Smiling, I wrapped my arms around him. “We are here,” I echoed.

He lowered his head to kiss me again, but this time with a tenderness that damn near brought tears to my eyes. He’d never touched me like this before—sweet and gentle, yet with a passion beneath it that spoke of genuine affection. His hands moved over me as if memorizing every inch of my skin, and I eagerly responded, more fired and moved by this display of true ardor than by any of his prior attentions.

He made love to me. There was no other word for it. Not possessive or fierce but with a fervor that brought us together into a perfect joining. And my climax was just as perfect, fantastic and overwhelming, spiraling together with his as we clung to each other and trembled with the fierce joy of it.

Sighing in deep, contented pleasure, I relaxed against him. He cradled me close, idly stroking sweat-damp hair back from my face. I gave him a languid smile before casting my gaze around at the pattern of sigils that surrounded us. “It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

A shudder passed through him. “Yes, it is. Very beautiful,” he said, an odd catch in his voice that I’d never heard from him before. He pulled away and stood, back to me, focusing his attention on the slowly pulsing diagram. A lift of his hand sent the entire pattern into a slow spin and then he was still, silhouetted against the softly shifting light.

I pushed up on my elbows. As goodbyes went, that had been a doozy, but now it was time to get down to business. “How do we ignite it? What do we need to do?”

His head dropped. It was several seconds before he spoke. “More. Much more.”

The obvious tension in his body and the taut undercurrent in his voice sent a chill racing over my skin. I wondered about the implications of those little words.

“Rhyzkahl. What’s wrong? Please tell me.”

He crouched and picked up his breeches, tugged them on in silence. “Too much is in motion,” he finally said with something akin to regret in his voice. He picked up his shirt, slipped it on and began to button it. “I cannot stop it now. I can only move forward.”

I wanted to ask him if he could be any vaguer, but this was freaking me out a little so I opted for a more direct question. “What are you talking about?”

He turned fully to me, beautiful and terrible, like I’d imagine a fallen angel to be if there were such things. The words fell heavily in measured slowness. “Potency. Plans. Agreements. Oaths. Treachery.”

The last word issued with a slight hiss and baring of teeth. As it all pretty much summed up what I’d seen of the bullshit that went on between lords in the past few days, I figured one of the rat bastards had fucked him over. “Anything I can do to help?”

In response he stepped forward, extended a hand to me, pulled me up when I took it. He laid his hands against the sides of my face and tenderly traced the line of my cheekbones with his thumbs. His eyes held mine, deep, enigmatic and…tormented? I’d never seen that in him before, not like this. He lowered his head to kiss me, body pressing against mine as he tangled his hands in my hair, claiming my mouth as passionately as if he feared he would never kiss me again.

The chill of the moment before slid away as I opened to the kiss, willing it to ease whatever troubled him so. I gave a soft moan when he finally broke it but smiled as I met his eyes again. “Better?”

His hands slid down to my shoulders, and he shook his head, the haunted flicker in his eyes sending a shiver of doubt through me. He bent and picked up my dress, eyes on me as he held it up in his right hand.

“Right. Time to get dressed,” I said, relieved. Things were getting weird again. “Would raise some eyebrows if I showed up back home in the buff.” Then I chuckled. “Did that once already.”

He inhaled deeply as I reached for the dress. Potency flashed from him, incinerating it to ash right before I touched it.

Shock coursed through me. I yelped and took a step back. “Rhyzkahl, what the fuck?” My confusion rose higher as the diagram abruptly flared.

Rhyzkahl lifted his hand, and I felt an oscillating wall of potency behind me as I backed near the inner ring of sigils. “You will not need it,” he said with a shake of his head.

Apprehensive, my gaze went from him to the diagram and back. “What’s going on?” I asked as the diagram continued to pulse. “Rhyzkahl, why won’t I need clothing? Are you sending me home or not?”

“Home,” he said, as though tasting the word for the first time. “A new home, yes.” His eyes flicked to the sigils as they flared once again, echoing the spike of fear that went through me.

“New home?” I shook my head as my anxiety climbed. “I don’t want a new home. I want myhome. What the hell’s going on?”

“That which must be done,” he replied, disquiet ghosting across his face. To my horror he flicked a lasso of potency around my right wrist and pulled me toward the center. “You will know it as home and feel no loss.”

My fear rose, then climbed higher as the diagram flared. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this ritual was somehow keyed to strong emotion, and not the good kind either, since it had remained quiet during our lovemaking.

“Rhyzkahl, I don’t want to forget my home,” I said, heart pounding. I tried to remain as calm as possible, fought the urge to twist and struggle against the lasso. Whatever was going on, he didn’t seem fully committed to it. Maybe there was still a chance to talk my way out of it. “Please.” I kept my voice quiet and intense. “Let me go.”

Rhyzkahl went demonic-lord still, closing his eyes. He kept the tension on the lasso, but didn’t pull me closer with it. The diagram dimmed, and I allowed a whisper of hope to creep in. I’d talked people down from high-stress situations before. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with Rhyzkahl, but the best thing I could do right then was to stay calm and talk my ass out of this chamber.

“Too much is in motion,” he murmured, eyes still closed.

The diagram dimmed a bit more. My eyes flicked from the sigils and back to him. “It’s okay,” I said, keeping my voice low and calm. “Everything’s okay. Just let me go…and we’ll start over.”

“Start over.” He opened his eyes, and to my dismay the ritual brightened again. “Yes, that is what this is. Starting over.” He tightened the pull on the lasso and lifted his right hand.

My cop vibe went code red. “No, Rhyzkahl. Wait!” I didn’t know what was coming. I only knew it was bad.

The palm of his hand shimmered blue, and the haunted look faded from his eyes. “I have no choice.” He drew a deep breath, face sliding into an icy mask. As he opened his hand, a blade began to coalesce within it, bristling with thorny protrusions along its hilt, blue gem in the pommel dark and shadowed. A vile whisper slid through my mind. You are mine.

Deep, primal terror flooded me. I struggled to flee, run, anything, but a flick of Rhyzkahl’s left hand bound my arms behind me. Another flick pulled them up so that my wrists were at my lower back.

Eyes on the blade, I breathed in gasping pants. “No, Rhyzkahl, please…. It’s not too late.”

The blade glimmered oily blue, fully formed in his hand.

“It is too late… now,” he said, voice laden with deadly promise.

And I knew without doubt it was true. A heartbreaking ache of disappointment flashed through me. I’d wanted so badly to trust him, but it didn’t matter. He was going to do something terrible to me.

But right on the heels of that disappointment came an equally profound disappointment and anger at myself. I’d always known he was up to something, and hadn’t fully trusted him. The hints and clues had been there all along, but, damn it, I hadn’t wanted to look at any of it objectively. My own need and angst kept me nicely wrapped up in ego-stroking denial. He’d attempted to coerce me in our very first encounter, placed his mark on me in a moment of true duress, dribbled information to me on his own terms, used my computer while I slept—and who knew what else. And there’d been numerous moments where he showed flickers of indecision that echoed those he displayed just now, right after our lovemaking. Yeah, great cop sense, Kara. He wasn’t simply a charismatic “bad boy.” No, Rhyzkahl was far, far worse.

I felt the shift in his aura, heavy and vile. I thrashed in the bindings, sure that if I could break free I could find a way to escape. I had to get away, had to. But no. No freedom. The blade whispered. Rhyzkahl lifted it and deep red fire ignited along its length, illuminated sporadically by scintillating arcs.

“Rhyzkahl, don’t do this.” I felt my lips move, felt the clench in my throat, but heard no sound.

Rhyzkahl heard. “It is already done,” he said, voice terrifying in a different way than Mzatal’s scary-as-fuck voice—colder and carrying a promise of horror. “Can you not feel it? There is more. Much more.” Lifting my wrists a smidge higher, he moved me to the very center of the diagram.

I let out a squeal of discomfort and fear as he pulled my wrists even higher up behind me. Strappado. That’s what this torturous position was called. I only knew that because I had a case last year of consensual BDSM that went too far. And now I understood Mzatal’s warnings, far too late. Had he known what lay in store for me? And, if so, why hadn’t he fucking toldme? My heart slammed within my chest. I knew I was deeply and seriously fucked. I tried to pull grove power, but it felt as if I ran up against a smooth wall.

“It cannot touch you here,” he said. “You yourself sealed the chamber against the grove.”

Sick horror filled me. “You sworenot to do me any harm!”

He didn’t even pause before responding. “‘During that time in your world,’” he said, clearly quoting the words of our agreement back to me, “‘I will do nothing with the intent of causing you harm.’”

My world. Stupid. Stupid!“Stop! Don’t do this!” I didn’t even know what “this” was, I only knew it was going to be bad.

Rhyzkahl made certain I was in the very center of the diagram, then lifted my wrists until they were slightly higher than my shoulders, forcing me to lean forward to relieve some of the burn of the uncomfortable position.

“Mzatal,” he said, snarling the name. “He thought to keep you from me, use you himself.” He gave a cold smile. “He will pay for his audacity.” His breath hissed, and I saw that the thorny protrusions on the blade hilt had molded around his fingers. Deep red fire wreathed his hand and crept up his forearm. I had the very bad feeling he couldn’t release the blade even if he wanted to, at least not until this ritual was finished.

My gut clenched as I stared at him. “Why are you doing this?” I swallowed hard. “Is this what happened to Elinor? Did you kill her too?”

Pain exploded in my face as he backhanded me hard, knocking me off balance, and I gave a strangled cry as my shoulders wrenched in the bindings. Dizzy from the vicious blow, I struggled to get my feet beneath me again. As soon as I did so, Rhyzkahl gripped my chin hard and turned my face fully toward him. “I did not kill her!” he said, fury replacing the ice in his voice. “Never speak that again.” His gaze slid over the puffiness of my eye, but it didn’t seem to touch him. “Look. At. Me.”

Whimpering softly, I met his eyes. My terror increased at the darkness I saw there.

“Twelve,” he said. “We will begin with the number twelve.” The grip on my chin tightened. “Look well, Kara Helene Gillian.” His eyes penetrated me with dark intensity. “By the time we reach one, you will no longer have the resolve to look into my eyes. And when we are complete, that name will be a forgotten whisper, and you will have a new one.”

The truth of it was etched in his perfect features. He wasn’t going to kill me. Whatever my fate, it would be much worse. I spit into his face, knowing it would surely be my last act of defiance.

Rhyzkahl didn’t show a flicker of reaction. Still gripping my chin, he wiped the spittle away with the back of the hand that held the blade, then shifted to lay his other palm against the side of my face. “Only by breaking you, dear one, can I rebuild you into a greater existence, a new life,” he said with a sickening gentleness of tone. “Enthralled, you will be safe, cherished.” He smiled at me, caressing my cheek with his thumb. “You will thank me when you fully understand what I have done for you, when you understand that I have saved you.”

He lifted me in the arcane bindings until I was on my toes. My breath hissed through my teeth in bursts with the strain in my shoulders. “Bullshit…you…insane…fucker.”

All hint of the deranged gentleness evaporated as he leaned close, breath hot on my face. “Through you we gain Szerain’s blade. Through you, we open a gateway to a new world. Then you will be with me forever.” The bindings grew into a sheath that enveloped me, preventing my body from moving even a millimeter. Only my head was free. I thrashed futilely with a blossoming panic.

He brought the blade close to my face. I let out a breathless scream, sick with horror as I reflexively tried to jerk away.

“You have met Xhan before, under tame circumstances,” he said, moving the blade before my eyes, voice cold and penetrating again. “This time, it reveals itself fully to you.”

You are mine.

I recoiled from the horrific presence of Rhyzkahl and the blade, unable to jerk anything but my head away, and that only a few inches.

Snarling, he wound fingers in my hair close to my scalp, pulled my head up, and bound it in that position, stripping even that small freedom of movement from me. With a gesture, he lifted me completely off my feet so that my chest was at his eye level, yet he kept me in the sheath so that the strain on my arms and shoulders wasn’t as great as it could have been. He placed his left hand in the center of my chest. “We begin with the first sigil here,” he said in a cold and unwavering voice that told me that he was not fucking stopping. He dropped his hand and placed the tip of the blade against my skin. I let out another scream at the touch of the blade. I thrashed and struggled to no avail—his power held me immobile, though my muscles fought to respond.

A low hiss that sounded like pleasure came from him as he began to work, knife biting precisely as he carved my flesh. I cried out as pain seared through my chest, every bite of the blade like a window into the depths of hell. My vision began to gray, and I didn’t fight it. If I couldn’t escape through death, at least perhaps I could find a temporary oblivion.

Rhyzkahl looked up into my face as I began to pass out. “No!” He said, clenching his teeth as he yanked the oblivion away from me. Full awareness returned like a slap, and I let out a low sob.

He continued to work methodically, precisely. Occasionally he would look up into my face after doing a section, as though looking for something. At times it almost seemed as if the blade led him.

I trembled, panting in ragged gasps of breath. Finally, he lifted the blade from my skin and passed his hand over the incisions. I shuddered in relief, whimpering at the pain in my shoulders, wrists, and chest. He stepped back, eyes on the sigil he’d just carved, and spoke a few distinct words in demon. With a flick of his left hand, he removed the encasing sheath, allowing me to fully sag in the bindings with my feet still far from the floor. Another keening scream escaped me as I kicked my legs futilely, struggling for nonexistent purchase as my shoulders shrieked in agony. The diagram flared in eager response.

The red flame coiled around his arm from blade to shoulder, arcs shimmering with a discordant potency that I knew was far different from what I’d always worked with. “It is beautiful.” His eyes dropped to the sigil. “And now, together, we bring it to life,” he said, voice unspeakably scary in its soft intimacy, as though we were actually working together.

Tears streamed down my face. I shook my head as much as I could. “No, please…no…”

Rhyzkahl moved close to me again, laid his left hand alongside my face. “In the pain, dear one,” he said in the same scary intimate voice, “is the true connection made. Without it, all of this,” he gestured vaguely with the knife, “is for naught.”

He stepped back two paces, lowered his head. He inhaled as he brought the knife upright before his chest, gripping the hilt in both hands. I shook in the bonds, knowing he didn’t mean simply the pain from my shoulders and the carving he’d made in my skin.

“NO!”

He lowered the blade and pointed toward my feet, wrapping each in roiling sheets of viscous black shot through with flickers of brilliant red, burning like fire that did not consume my flesh. I screamed, thrashing, desperately wanting to pass out but utterly unable. His face settled into intense calm as he drew the fire up my legs, and I shrieked in agony.

He brought the dark fire up to the level of the sigil, hissing as ruby lightning leaped from the blade to connect fully with the ignited sigil. I couldn’t even scream anymore, could only jerk in the bindings. He held it for ten heartbeats of eternity, then dropped all the arcane pain instantly, leaving only the ghost of its memory. Yet I wasn’t burned. It didn’t seem possible that such unspeakable agony could leave no physical damage in its wake.

He wrapped me again in the sheath of potency, taking some of the weight off my arms. My breath wheezed, and I twitched. I could barely think, but I knew I needed to be able to think, to remember myself. He’d told me I would forget, forget who I was, forget my name. I wanted desperately to lose myself; it was my only possible escape. But I also knew once I did, I would never come back.

“Kara…I’m Kara,” I managed to whisper.

He closed the distance between us, stroked the back of his fingers down the line of my jaw in a move that was more possessive than tender. “You will have a new name soon, and a new life.”

Licking dry lips, I fought to focus on him, barely able to believe that I’d endured such pain only seconds before. “I’m Kara…”

He placed his hand on the right side of my chest, just below the collarbone. “For now, yes.” My pain faded more with his touch. “And I will ever remember you as you were.”

I wheezed out a breath. “Fuck you…hate you.”

“That serves well for now.” He removed his hand, brought the blade to the base of my throat. “And so we begin anew.”

My tears fell as he began to slice. “Kara…I’m Kara.”

We went through the cycle again. And again. Carve the sigil, fire it with a new form of pain. Begin again.

I lost track of how many times we’d gone through this. Maybe it was only three…or seven…or thirty. Eventually I began to wonder if there was ever a time when I wasn’t here, wasn’t a canvas for sigils, wasn’t in agony. I tried to remind myself who I was.

I tried to remember who I was.

“You are Rowan,” Rhyzkahl said, helping me. He lifted my lolling head, looked into my eyes. “Rowan.”

I dragged in a breath, feeling the name. He brought the pain, but then he stopped the pain. Perhaps he was right. I tasted it on my tongue.

He put a hand to the side of my face, cool and smooth, easing the pain. “Yes, say it,” he said voice soft and soothing. “Say your name.”

Kara…Kara…

A name. Felt more than heard, as if from an incredible distance. I tasted it, found it more right than the other. “Kara,” I managed to rasp.

He took a long deep breath, lifted his hand, allowing the pain to return. “No. Rowan.” He moved around to my left side, began another sigil, ignored my keening wail of a scream.

Kara…

“You are Rowan,” Rhyzkahl said, returning to stand before me. Once again he laid his hand on my cheek, once again gave me numb refuge from the pain.

I heard him. Heard the name. Heard the distant call.

Kara…

“I’m…K-Kara.”

He pulled his hand away, allowing the pain to flood in. I spasmed in the bindings, vision going red as my shoulders dislocated.

“You bring the pain upon yourself,” he told me as he brought the blade before me. “Speak your name—Rowan—and end it.”

Kara…Kara…Kara…

I moaned, unable to say either name.

Stepping back, he gestured, pulling my arms out to my sides, though keeping them twisted enough to maintain the searing agony in my shoulders. Another gesture pulled my legs apart until I was stretched in a vicious spread-eagle about a foot off the ground.

Once again he bound me in potency to keep me from twitching and marring his work. He set the blade on my upper back, slowly parting my flesh in the complex pattern.

Once again, he brought the pain.

I hung limp in the cruel position, twitching within the imprisoning sheath as he began a new sigil. A thousand times we’d been through this. Surely it had been that many. Yet other than the carving of my flesh and the ruin of my shoulders, I was undamaged. Each bout of agony was only that, yet all of that.

I couldn’t pass out. That way was closed off to me. But another way beckoned, shimmered with a promise of ease, of a different sort of oblivion. All I had to do was relax my grip on myself. Let go, and the pain would fade away. I could drift there and be nothing.

Kara…KARA!

I moaned. No. I couldn’t let go. I’d never find my way back. “…here,” I whispered.

Rhyzkahl lifted his head. “ Mzatal.” He bared his teeth and growled a very nonhuman sound. “ Dahn!” He moved swiftly to grip my hair, hauled my face close to his. “What have you done?” He snarled, face contorted in fury.

“…here,” I gasped, “…Kara.”

He released my hair with a shove, then backhanded me. “He will not know you. Your name is ROWAN.”

I shuddered in pain, uncertain which name was right. He moved to my back, drew a breath, and began a new sigil.

Kara…Kara…Kara…

Twitching, I whimpered, “…here.”

Rhyzkahl carved the sigil into my lower back, taking far longer with this one than any other. At last he finished, moved back around to look into my face. “After this, you willknow your name,” he said, voice hard again and full of fury. “And he will no longer touch you.”

The pain was about to come again. I saw it in his eyes, in his snarl. This one would be worse than all the others.

Rhyzkahl lowered his head, lifted the blade before him. The red fire writhed over his arm and torso as he called down the agony, bringing pain upon pain, making me feel as if my very bones were on fire. Lost in the agony, I couldn’t even scream.