I opened the paper bag and pulled out the baseball cap, allowing the ilius to twine around it and fill itself with the scent, the feel of the one I sought. “Seek,” I said, and reinforced the spoken command with mental pressure. The demon shimmered in my othersight, then sped away across the grass and through the trees like an arcane zephyr.
I let my breath out as soon as it was gone, then leaned back against the car to wait for the demon’s return. That it would find the missing hunter I had no doubt. Whether that hunter was alive or dead would decide my next move. I only hoped the demon wouldn’t take very long. Even at four in the morning, the south Louisiana heat in July was oppressive, and out here in the middle of the swamp, the humidity was easily near a hundred percent. Sweat beaded on my face and neck and I wiped it away with a sleeve, hoping I wasn’t wiping away too much of the mosquito repellent that I’d doused myself in. Hundreds of the little bloodsuckers hummed around me, but so far the repellent was keeping them at bay. At least the ilius didn’t have to worry about mosquitoes.
There were twelve levels of demon that could be summoned by those with the ability to open a portal between this world and the demon realm. The higher the level of demon, the more powerful—and the more difficult to summon. But I’d had no need for a high-level demon for this. This summoning had been more for practice, to get my feet wet again, than anything else—though finding the idiot who’d decided to go hunting in the swamp by himself was an added benefit. But this was the first demon I’d summoned in a couple of months, and I’d needed the reassurance that I still knew what I was doing.
White-blond hair like a river of silk cascaded over me as he bent to kiss me. “Do you miss my touch yet, dear one?” His ancient eyes were alight with crystalline amusement.
I looked up at him, narrow-eyed. “Yes and no.”
He laughed and took me by the hand to lead me to a white marble balcony that overlooked a shining blue sea. “Is it such a difficult question?”
I watched the demons in flight above the water. “I miss your presence, but you also kinda scare the crap out of me, y’know?”
He stood behind me, sliding his arms about me in loose embrace. “I would never harm you, Kara. Summon me. You will be safe.”
I leaned my head back against him as his embrace turned into a slow caress. He nuzzled my neck, sending goose bumps racing over my skin. “But your idea of ‘safe’ might not be the same as mine,” I said, groaning as his teeth gently nipped at my earlobe.
“I will allow none to harm you, Kara,” the demonic lord murmured. “Summon me. You need what I can give you.”
I shuddered as if to throw off a chill, still unsettled by the remnants of last night’s dream. That’s all it had been—a dream. Nothing more.
Gooseflesh rose on my arms despite the warmth of the night. I wished I could really be that certain.
There was another type of demon above those twelve levels: the demonic lords. It was considered pretty much impossible to summon a demonic lord. Or rather, with enough power and preparation it was technically possible to summon one, but surviving the experience was another matter entirely. Yet I’d accidentally summoned Rhyzkahl, one of the highest of the demonic lords, and I’d even survived the experience.
In a manner of speaking.
Rhyzkahl had created a link to me after I’d unintentionally summoned him, and for a time he had come to me in dream-sendings, so vivid and real that it was impossible to tell whether I was awake or asleep. Plus, elements of these sendings could intrude into the waking world, as evidenced by one instance where he healed an injury I’d received when I was awake. But those had stopped after he’d saved my life. I’d had dreams of him since, but they never felt as visceral as the sendings.
I knew I should be pleased and relieved that the link had apparently been severed. But I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Or him. It didn’t help that many of the dreams were filled with scorching erotic content—with me as an eager participant. I woke from them shuddering with a combination of pleasure and need—feelings that quickly shifted to confusion and uncertainty. Was he sending these dreams in order to remind me of what we’d shared and what he could offer? Or were the dreams merely messages from my screwed-up psyche, reminding me that I had no boyfriend, no sex life, and no prospects?
Either way, I could do without the reminders.