She gave a snotty laugh. “Oh no, I did something against the magic contract. Does that mean I get a spanking?”
You stupid little bitch, stop talking before you get into real trouble! I continue to struggle to reach through the strand.
Mzatal’s eyes were hard upon Us. “Gestamar, Kara will be leaving us. Tell Idris to prepare a diagram. We will proceed within the hour.”
Yeah. Trouble like that.
I press against the barrier. I can’t relax, can’t rest. All I can do is gasp in what existence I can through the seal. I can’t take much more of this.
She stared in shock. “You’re going to send me back for one fucking joint? You f-fu—”
I slam on the brakes! I force myself through the strand and manage to make her stop before she can call him a fucking asshole. The thought is there, the words formed, ready to spill. Stop it. I want to weep, but she has my body. Exhausted. This tiny influence exhausts me. I can’t do this. Please, you have to stop this. Mzatal, please! I’m trying not to panic, but there’s so little room. Please. Please.
Mzatal moved to me and took my head in his hands, unsealed the barrier. I sagged and clutched at him as he released it, eyes wide as the goo slowly retreated. He pulled me to him, kept one arm wrapped around me and the other cradling my head to his chest. I could feel him continuing to dismantle the suppression. With every heartbeat it loosened more, until finally it was completely gone. I was me again. Fully me.
But shudders spasmed through me, and I had to clamp down hard on the urge to cry. “That was me.” I whispered.
He continued to hold me close, even though the cruel submersion was over and dismantled. “Was,” he replied. “It was an aspect of you. You would not be who you are today without that aspect. It is a gift.”
A shiver raced through me. “You know all about that time in my life.”
“Yes,” he replied quietly.
Of course he did, I realized. He probably knew me better than I knew myself. He’d gone trouncing through my memories and life when he was deciding whether or not to snap my neck.
“Fuck,” I breathed. Shame coiled through me, but I pushed it down. I wasn’t that person anymore. And I could be damn glad that I didn’t have to live my existence watching me be that person, be something I despised. “This submersion,” I said, then paused, considering my words. He couldn’t answer a direct question, but he could, perhaps comment. “I don’t know how anyone could bear it for more than a few minutes, much less many years.”
Mzatal went very still. “I do not know how it could be endured for so long.”
Again, I chose my words carefully. “I wonder if anyone else could be as…reviled and shamed by the actions of their outer personality as I was.” Did Szerain detest how Ryan conducted himself?
“Yes,” he said, exhaling. “Perhaps not as instantaneously, since your overlay was drawn from a painful era of your past. But without the control, without the influence, any actions could emerge. Surely you have watched another and judged their actions. It is similar with a foreign overlay.”
I struggled to process it all. Now I knew—or at least had a taste of—what Szerain endured. But Szerain had been submerged under the overlay of someone else’s life. It was bad enough under a shadow of myself. What would it be like to have the superficial memories of Jane Doe overlaid and my features shaped into hers? And Szerain chose this. Surely, he didn’t know how bad it would be. Turek’s words came back to me. He despised being submerged. He will not willingly submit to it again.
“There were a couple of minutes there where I thought you’d really done it. I thought you’d really submerged me.” I looked up at him. “I’m sorry I doubted.”
He met my eyes steadily. “You wanted to know what it was like. That aspect was crucial to your understanding. I reinforced it with specific intention.” He shook his head. “There is no need for apology.”
Reinforced with specific intention. The words he spoke when he submerged me. They’d made little sense at the time, and now I thought maybe I knew why. Were those Rhyzkahl’s words when he submerged Szerain? Was this the only way Mzatal could tell me?
I tensed as the grove flared. “Someone’s coming.” I paused, feeling the resonance. “It’s Lord Vahl. Were you expecting him?”
“No,” he said through clenched teeth. I winced in sympathy. Mzatal was having a Bad Day. I knew those far too well.
“Do you need me to leave?”
“Only if you choose to do so,” he replied. “Otherwise, I would have you abide.” Left unspoken was the implication that, while he wanted me with him, he would not mandate it.
“I’ll stay then,” I said, pleased and oddly flattered. I gave his hand a squeeze. “I’m kind of a nosy bitch.”
A smile ghosted across his face. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then released my hand. “I need a moment to prepare.”
“Of course,” I said. He’d want to be in top form to face another one of the lords with their perpetual head games and intrigue. “Would you like me to get wine?”
“Wine would be excellent.” He faced the balcony railing and closed his eyes, breathing deeply.
I headed inside to the demon realm version of a wet bar and grabbed wine and three glasses. I also wolfed down a couple of pieces of cheese and a slice of fruit since I was starving. Clutching the glasses and wine carefully, I returned to the balcony and set them out quietly so as not to disturb him.
A moment later he opened his eyes and regarded me. “Fog yourself, Kara.”
“Huh?”
“When you hold grove power it is far more difficult to read you,” he said.
I blinked. “Oh, right.” Rhyzkahl had said something about my being fogged right before the big bad ritual. Reaching for the grove, I pulled a trickle of power, then looked to Mzatal.
He shook his head. “Draw more,” he instructed. “I can still read with a very slight probing. Learn how much you need and pull only that.”
Complying, I pulled slightly more, then brought up an image of me doing an obnoxious booty-shake.
Mzatal gave a nod. “Perfect.”
I hoped he meant the fogging and not the booty-shake itself. “Where do you want me?” I asked. “Standing? Sitting?” I grinned. “Sprawled suggestively?”
“You already stand with me,” he said quietly. “But for this, sit.” He gestured to a chair.
My smile widened. I poured a glass of wine for myself and settled into one of the big comfortable chairs.
“He comes,” Mzatal said, face shifting with unnerving speed into a cold, hard mask. Radiating a feral potency, he turned to look out over the rail, hands clasped behind his back. I composed my own face and held my glass of wine.
I felt Vahl’s approach before I saw him. He stopped in the balcony doorway, dark eyes on Mzatal’s back. He still had that “dangerously appealing” feel about him, which was certainly helped by the snug black shirt and pants he wore. Due to the angle, he didn’t appear to see me, and since I’d fogged myself, he couldn’t pick me up through reading.
He spoke in demon to Mzatal, and with the grove power I got the gist of “meetings are complete” or something to that effect. I remained quiet and still, only moving to take a sip of wine.
Mzatal answered in English. “And what have you come to tell me?”
Vahl blinked, clearly wondering why the hell Mzatal spoke in English. He glanced around and a quick flash of surprise lit his eyes as he saw me. He’d surely been expecting me to be here in Mzatal’s realm, but probably not here by his side sipping wine.
Vahl barely missed a beat, though he was obviously taken aback. He looked from me to Mzatal and continued in English. “The rotations were agreed upon, with yours remaining allocated to the threes and elevens with general oversight in the eleventh month. Much time was spent in negotiations brought forward by Rayst and Seretis concerning—” Vahl stopped abruptly as Mzatal dropped his hands to his sides.
I took a very casual sip, watching Vahl. The lord obviously took that simple movement of Mzatal’s hands as a potential threat. He barely breathed, eyes intent on Mzatal’s back.
“You are in Rhyzkahl’s debt,” Mzatal said, slowly opening his right hand. “What is your true purpose for being here?”
Vahl took a half step back, apprehension flickering in his eyes. “Mzatal…”
“I will speak for you since you cannot find the fortitude to do it yourself,” Mzatal said in the silky and oh-so-scary tone I knew far too well and which seemed to have an effect even on Vahl. “You have come to see what you can determine on the status of Kara Gillian so that you can report to the one who holds your tether.”
I suppressed a shiver with effort and made certain to maintain contact with the grove.
Vahl shrank back just a hair, eyes on Mzatal’s right hand as if he watched a revolver cocked, loaded, and aimed at his head. But then he pulled himself up to full height and drew a breath, clearly determined not to go down cringing. “Yes.” He glanced to me and back to the hand. I had a feeling Mzatal could call and cast power before Vahl could even blink. “He wants to know,” Vahl added.
“What did he tell you of how she came to be with me?” Mzatal asked, still with the silky deathly voice. My grip tightened on my glass as I willed my hand not to shake. This would not be a good time for me to go into any sort of meltdown.
Vahl’s brow furrowed at the question. “He said he was in the midst of working with her in a ritual, and that you activated a recall you had implanted.” A brief flicker of admiration touched his face, likely for the skill required to accomplish such a difficult feat. Tension knotted my back at the “with her” bit, and I had to fight the urge to bare my teeth.
Mzatal pivoted to face Vahl. Without taking his eyes from the other lord, Mzatal held a hand out to me, extending with his presence as well. “Kara.”
