Touch of the Demon (47 page)

Idris slid a look at me, and I gave him a what-the-fucking-fuck look right back. I moved to a chair, pulled it out, and sank into it, utterly mystified. Idris sat across from me with a look on his face that mirrored how I felt. I got that we’d apparently been invited to a meal, but that in itself was weird. I’d eaten plenty of times around Mzatal, but apart from wine and tunjen, I rarely saw him eat, and had certainly never shared a meal with him

Mzatal stood behind his chair, a faint smile curving his lips. “You have both worked very hard,” he said, “and are away from your homes.” He waited while the faas poured wine in our three glasses, then drew a breath as though delaying a moment more to choose his words. “With the fullness of your schedules, you have lost track of your Earth time,” he continued. “This is a day that each of you typically celebrate with your family and with your friends. I cannot offer those, but I can offer the recognition and something of the celebration. Happy Christmas, Idris Palatino and Kara Gillian.”

A weird jolt went through me, a strange combination of dismay and pleased surprise. Idris simply stared, brow slightly furrowed.

I’m going to miss Christmas with Tessa.
My throat tightened in preparation for a lovely bout of feeling sorry for myself.
But Idris is away from his family, too
, I reminded myself. And he had to lie to them; through Katashi, they’d been told he was in Japan. Now that Katashi proved himself untrustworthy, who knew what, if anything, Idris’s family was being told. Ruthlessly I shoved the self-pity down.

Mzatal lifted his glass, smile fading a bit, obviously sensing the muddled emotions. “Here. Drink.”

I forced a smile as I picked up my glass and took a sip of the really good dark wine. “Merry Christmas, Boss. Thanks for remembering.”

Idris cleared his throat, seeming to have recovered a bit from his initial shock. “Yeah, um. Thanks. Really,” he said and lifted his glass.

The doubt seemed to linger in Mzatal’s eyes, and I realized
it had to run fairly deep if it was actually showing. Damn it, he’d made an all out effort to do something for us, even if it did sting. Sure, I could get into a big pity party about having to miss Christmas with the folks back home, but that would pretty much guarantee that my Christmas here would suck shit. Truth was, I couldn’t find it in me anymore to resent Mzatal for summoning me. If he and Idris hadn’t brought me here, then Rhyzkahl certainly would’ve carried out his plans, and there wouldn’t have been anyone to rescue me.

Time to lighten the mood in this room. “Wait,” I said with a laugh. “This isn’t at all like the Christmases I’m used to. There’s no smell of burnt turkey.” I grinned. “Tessa can’t cook for shit, and neither can I.”

Some of the uncertainty faded from Mzatal’s expression. He downed half a glass of wine, his other hand resting on the back of the chair. “The faas have prepared a meal that they assure me contains your favorites from here and even some from Earth,” he said, inclining his head slightly. “It is unlikely anything will be burnt unless I specifically asked for it, and then it would be under protest.”

“No, that’s quite all right.” I shook my head emphatically. “Not-burned sounds good to me.” I looked up and gave him a teasing smile. “Mzatal, sit the hell down so we can all relax, okay?”

He gave a slight nod and pulled the chair out.
Finally
.

With that the mood eased enough for us to engage in some light conversation while we waited for the food. I told the others how Tessa and I always went to Lake o’ Butter pancake house the morning after Christmas, before hitting the stores for the day-after-Christmas sales. Idris told us about how his family had a tradition of getting together on Christmas eve, making cocoa, and taking turns at verses of Christmas carols with on-the-spot, fabricated lyrics. He grinned so much in telling the story—and during his rendition of a snortingly funny verse of
Silent Night
—that I knew he really considered them family, though they’d adopted him as a teen.

Mzatal finished his wine and set the glass aside to be speedily refilled by Faruk. He reached into his pockets and pulled out two little boxes of delicately carved wood, then placed one before each of us. “I do greatly appreciate your work and your efforts.”

I set my glass down, hesitated, then reached for the box and opened it. Inside was a ring.
Uh oh.
I slid a glance to Idris. With relief, I saw he had a ring, too, and with that the weirdness factor evaporated.

Intrigued, I lifted the ring out of the box. Silver and gold interwove to form an intricate yet solid band, and a rich blue stone sparkled in the setting. I exhaled and lifted my gaze to Mzatal. “It’s beautiful,” I said, smiling. “Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Kara,” he said. “It suits you well.”

Idris sat, stunned to silence, staring at his ring. His was silver and a dark grey metal, with a deep red stone. He looked up at Mzatal and back at the ring. “Holy shit,” he breathed, then looked up again, a smile lighting his face like a kid at, well, Christmas. “My lord, wow. Thank you,” he said and carefully removed it from the box.

I wasn’t one to wear jewelry much, but I knew I’d wear this. I slid it onto the middle finger of my right hand, instantly loving the look and feel of it. It wasn’t girly or prissy at all. It was almost like a man’s ring but for a woman—solid and strong, yet still utterly lovely. “Mzatal,” I said, guilt tugging at me, “I didn’t get you anything.”

He shook his head, face betraying nothing of expectation or disappointment. “You did not know. Enjoy.”

Idris, in his own world, slipped his ring on. “Holy fuck,” he said in an extended exhale. I grinned. Apparently he liked his ring.

Jekki, Faruk, and two other faas brought the first wave of food. They burbled and fussed so much over everything, I had no doubt that they got a kick out of the whole concept.

We settled into some serious eating. Mzatal sat and watched us with a small, steady smile on his face. He drank wine and picked at a plate of fruit, cheeses, and some sort of custard drizzled with what looked like honey, while Idris and I stuffed ourselves and swapped more silly Christmas stories. Gestamar listened and rumbled in reyza-laughter periodically.

I’d had a little wine, and Mzatal was way too quiet. “Y’all ever have parties or celebrations here?” I asked him. “I mean back before the cataclysm, when there were more humans.”

Mzatal twirled the stem of his glass between his fingers. “Yes,” he said with a slow contemplative nod. “In the atrium and the rooms that open from it.”

I tilted my head and peered at him. “And what were those like? Did those seventeenth-century folks know how to get down?” I asked, grinning.

Mzatal lifted an eyebrow and hesitated a second, likely reading the meaning of “get down” from me, then smiled. “They were lively indeed. I tended to observe from the mezzanine,” he said, his smile widening. “Unless, of course, a reveler caught my eye.”

Okay. Now that was interesting. “Oh? Do go on,” I urged.

He took a drink before continuing. “It was usually a smooth process. I would catch the glances thrown my way and note which appealed most in the moment,” he said with a slight shrug. “Later I would descend to the atrium and rescue the chosen one from the throngs.” Amusement lit his face. “They did so love to be rescued.”

“I’m sure they did,” I said, laughing.

Gestamar snorted, and I slid a glance to him. “I bet you saw some interesting shit,” I said.

“Much,” the reyza said, rumbling. “Bedding a qaztahl ranked highly for many, and wine loosened inhibitions and dampened fear.” He bared his teeth and looked at Mzatal. “I know a story they will enjoy. Tell them of Marguerite Deshayes.”

Go, Gestamar
. I leaned forward. “Yes, tell us about Marguerite.”

Idris sipped wine and waited, a look on his face as if he couldn’t believe we might get a
story
from the lord.

Mzatal gave Gestamar a
look
then stared down into his glass. I kept my eyes on him, knowing how to play the waiting game. He shook his head and lifted his eyes to me. “It is a truly silly tale,” he said, a smile playing on his lips.

“The best kind,” I said, grinning. “Spill it!”

Gestamar rumbled, and Mzatal settled back in his chair. “It was your year, sixteen thirty-two,” Mzatal said. “When I arrived in the atrium, Marguerite, a busty and hitherto unobtrusive woman in her late thirties, approached and sought to press her advantage, obviously quite inebriated.”

Gestamar elaborated. “She threw her arms around his neck and pressed everything against him. Including her advantage.”

Mzatal gave a grudging nod. “I simply put her aside and
thought the matter done,” he said. “However, when I ascended to my chambers later, I found her naked at the top of the stairs unable to get past the warding to my bedchamber, which had likely been her goal. And I never
bed
in my bed.” He shook his head and smiled. “She was spread, and ready, and reaching for me.”

I laughed, though I almost felt sorry for the woman. “And what did you do?”

“She was far too much in the wine,” Mzatal said, “and would not have approached me without. I moved to step past her so Gestamar could carry her down, and…” He paused, drained his glass.

The reyza tapped the table with a claw, rumbling. “If you do not finish it, I will.”

I looked to Gestamar. “I think you’d better. I have a feeling he’s going to leave out all the juicy bits.”

Gestamar snorted. “She grabbed his cock through his breeches and held on like a graa on a tagan fruit.” I gathered from the way the reyza clenched his hand that he meant to convey with
great
ferocity.

Mzatal cursed softly in demon. “To this day I do not know how she managed it.”

Gestamar continued. “She yelled out all of the things she could do for him, and he was…in shock.”

I didn’t think I’d ever before heard a reyza rumble that heavily with laughter.

Mzatal leveled a frown at Gestamar. “It was unexpected and hurt
quite
a lot.” He looked back to Idris and me. “As Gestamar said, I was indeed stunned. Though I had no physical shielding active, the assault was still startling,” he said, then hesitated. “I first tried to simply wrest her hand away.”

“That was unwise,” Gestamar commented.

Idris cringed noticeably. I burst out laughing. “Oh no.”

Mzatal cleared his throat. “When I recovered from my
error
, I breathed a pygah and used potency to prize her fingers off. And still the woman screamed what she could do for me,” he said with a shake of his head and an amused smile. “I stayed well away from her reach.”

I wiped tears away from laughing so hard. “Did she ever leave? Or did you have her carted off?”

“Mzatal set a triple pygah,” Gestamar told us, “which, along with the wine she had consumed, eased her greatly.”

Mzatal nodded. “The faas reclothed her, and Gestamar carried her back to her quarters. And I continued to mine.”

“He continued slowly and
carefully
to his chambers,” Gestamar clarified.

I tried hard not to snort my wine. “Did she remember any of it the next day?”

“Only vague remnants,” Mzatal said, “though I remembered all.”

“And the parties were never the same after that, I bet.”

“I maintained light physical shielding among the humans,” he said with a smile. “But Marguerite…” He paused and his eyes went distant as though remembering, a slow smile growing. “All of the delicious acts she screamed out? She could perform every one and more.” His eyes flashed with good humor. “This I determined in the next week when I encountered her by the little waterfall.”

That got even more laughter. “And I bet she was much more fun when she wasn’t blitzed,” I said.

Mzatal raised an eyebrow. “Indeed. I prefer coherent, cognizant, and inclined,” he said. “While inebriated, she was most inclined, but neither coherent nor cognizant.”

I leaned back and sipped my wine. It was clear that the lord was far from chaste, but I had to appreciate his desire for a willing partner in full control of her faculties. Hell, better than a lot of guys back home who’d have taken advantage of a situation like that in a heartbeat.

Mzatal opened his mouth to speak again, then turned and looked at Faruk. He stood abruptly, strode to the faas and crouched while Gestamar hissed softly.

I set my glass down. “What’s going on?”

Mzatal laid his hand on Faruk’s back and spoke softly in demon. The faas seemed to huddle in on itself, tip of its tail trembling like a rattlesnake’s.

Idris glanced over at me. “Faruk is being summoned to Earth.” His brow furrowed. “It doesn’t happen often for her.”

“Her?” I blurted, then grimaced at how stupid that sounded. But none of the faas had any sort of visual or behavioral features to indicate gender. I usually winged it and guessed, but I had a feeling Idris actually knew.

His eyes crinkled. “Yes, and Jekki is male. They’re a mated pair.” His gaze went back to Faruk, and I stood,
deeply curious about what a summoning looked like from this side.

Faruk detached her pouch of kek tokens from her belt and tossed it to Gestamar, then laid her hand on Mzatal’s knee. Wind swirled around them, and the whine of a portal overrode the incessant rush of the waterfall. Mzatal stood and stepped backward to the table, eyes on Faruk.

The portal opened with a rush of wind and the stench of sulphur, and a heartbeat later, tendrils of luminescent mist-like potency wreathed the faas, and she disappeared. Jekki chittered, his tail twisting and writhing in what I’d come to recognize as faas agitation.

I remembered to breathe again as the arcane wind died away to nothing. “Do you know who summoned her?”

Mzatal nodded slowly, eyes narrowed. “Rasha Hassan Jalal al-Khouri. I had thought her dead, she has been so long without summoning.”

The name didn’t ring any bells, and I filed it away. I glanced at Gestamar as he moved to clear the residuals from the summoning. A pang of selfish longing tugged, as I wished it had been Gestamar, along with my letters, rather than Faruk. I pushed down my impatience. There were two days yet during this Earth full moon for Gestamar or the other designated letter-carriers, Jekki and Bezik, to be summoned.