His father stopped walking and turned to face him. On either side of them the mural ended.
They were on the cusp of the present. Beyond where they stood the Hall continued in endless darkness, the future not yet captured on its walls.
“A final question and then I will answer the one you asked me. Were you compelled to kill the humans, or did you do so because they deserved it and you desired to do it?”
Zurael closed his eyes and flashed back to the instant when he’d taken form in a world he’d rarely visited, though like most, he monitored it and dreamed of the day when the Djinn would reclaim it. His father’s question was a whisper in his thoughts as he relived those moments of ruthless justice when the stench of evil was replaced by the smell of blood. Horror filled him as he realized there was no distinction between his summoner’s command and his own free will, but he didn’t turn away from the specter of it as he answered his father’s question honestly. “I wanted to stop the sacrifice. I killed the humans because I could.”
He opened his eyes and saw his father studying him closely, perhaps willing him to say more, to admit it was the female and not the violence that had shaped his cock into a rigid line against the front of his trousers. Zurael said nothing and the silence was like a held breath.
Along the walls, the scenes painted there shimmered with captured emotion. Unwillingly his gaze traveled the distance his feet had covered and stopped on the image of the first son and the first summoning.
Icy dread found its way into Zurael’s heart. It was not dispelled when his father said, “Unless summoned, you may leave the Kingdom of the Djinn only once.”
AISLING shuddered as she looked at the carnage in front of her. Fear held her trapped in the protective circle. The demon’s promise of retribution froze her limbs and withered her courage, even though she knew she needed to find out where she was, so she could return to her physical body with the knowledge.
She closed her eyes and turned her face to bury it in the comfort of Aziel’s warm fur. Her heartbeat slowed, though the stench of blood and bowels and scented candles made her queasy.
The desire to be back in her own body swelled up with sudden fierceness, along with an aching need to return to the only family she’d ever known. “Let’s get this over with,” she whispered to Aziel before she opened her eyes and stepped from the phantom ring.
Elena’s chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm. The bloodred sigils painted on her eyelids and mouth, on her palms and the soles of her feet, stirred a memory in Aisling, but she knew it was a shaman’s memory and not a personal one.
She climbed the stairs and, moving through the house, stepped out into the darkness in order to look for an address. The night was still, but the presence of the predators who roamed it wasn’t hidden from her as it would have been if her spirit and physical body were joined.
Aisling could sense the ice-cold signature of a vampire looking for prey. Farther away a lone Were prowled, its hot energy a beacon though it wasn’t close enough for her to determine its animal form.
Inside the other houses on the street she could hear muffled conversation. She could feel the terror the night held for the occupants who sheltered behind barred windows and locked doors.
At the end of the block a bent pole still carried a street sign. Aisling read it and let her awareness of her surroundings fade. The gray of the ghostlands passed with a swiftness that left her dizzy.
When she opened her eyes she found Father Ursu hovering just inches away from the protective circle. “3574 Rhine Street,” she said.
Father Ursu took a phone from his pocket and relayed the address, though Aisling knew it was for show. Just as before, she felt another presence, someone else monitoring the room. This time she glanced around and noticed the small mirror on the wall above the table where Elena’s picture had been and where Aziel was now curled in apparent sleep.
“You encountered a powerful demon,” Father Ursu said, drawing Aisling’s attention back to him and making her heart thunder with renewed fear.
“How did you know?” Her voice came out little more than a whisper.
Father Ursu gestured at the blackened ring of salt around her. “What happened?”
Aisling’s breath grew short as she stared at the protective circle. She shivered as the demon’s beautiful face and deadly words filled her mind.
For a moment terror held her completely in its grip. Impending death covered her with a shroud of certainty. As soon as she broke the protective circle, the demon would come for her.
“What happened, child?” the priest said in a soft voice as he crouched down in front of her.
She tried to find the words and failed. A soft thump sounded as Aziel jumped from the table. He scampered across the room as if sensing her distress and her need of his comfort. Before the priest could grab him, he crossed the circle, brushing the blackened salt away with his feet and tail.
He climbed to his favored position on Aisling’s shoulder. He chattered as if he was scolding her, reminding her that he was the one who had given her the name Zurael to whisper on the spirit winds.
Aisling shuddered as the terrible fear left her in a sudden rush. She closed her eyes and concentrated on answering the priest’s question. “There was a dark mass. They were chanting, but a demon came before they finished the ceremony.” She took a harsh, involuntary breath as the events played out in her mind. Guilt tangled with the relief of having saved Elena. She’d wanted the sacrifice stopped, but now the deaths lay on her conscience. She’d commanded Zurael to stop the ceremony and he’d obeyed. She looked at the priest and said, “They’re all dead, all except for Elena.”
Father Ursu nodded. “Black magic is dangerous.” He stood and offered his hand. “Come, child. I’ll take you back to your room. You’ve had a long, difficult day.”
Aisling allowed him to help her to her feet and guide her from the room. She was emotionally exhausted, no longer able to worry about whether he was an ally or an enemy.
ZURAEL pushed through the door and out into the night. The gentle breeze and rich scents greeting him did nothing to soothe the turmoil of his thoughts, the conflict of his desires, the unspoken questions raised by his father and left unanswered.
For an instant he was tempted to gather the sand around him in a swirling, seething mass and roar through the desert until his emotions settled. He was tempted to take the form of a falcon and fly until he was too exhausted to think or question. But those were the responses of a child and he hadn’t been one in centuries.
Above him the starless, moonless sky was pitch-black. If he were to hunt for the one who summoned him, he would need to do it during the day. The human he was looking for wouldn’t go out among the predators of the night.
Zurael retraced the route he’d walked with his father’s advisor. He moved with casual grace, barely aware of his surroundings. With each step the urgency to find the one who’d summoned him grew and spread outward like a spider’s poisonous bite.
He faltered with the thought, slowed, stopped. He was in a court-yard he rarely delayed in. To his left was an archway he’d seldom found a need to pass through.
For long moments he contemplated what it might cost him. But in the end he turned and took the path leading to the House of the Spider.
A young male Djinn, wearing the simple white trousers of a student, opened the door. He stepped back to usher Zurael in with a sweeping bow. “Welcome, Prince Zurael en Caym of the House of the Serpent. You honor us with your presence. Do you wish to call upon the one who leads our house? Or will another serve you?”
“I will see Malahel en Raum,” Zurael said. The payment required of him would be steep, but he didn’t want to share the details of his shame, his summoning, with anyone other than the strongest in the House of the Spider.