Until now.
By helping Bert break a hold a demon had on him, I could’ve put myself in its crosshairs. And if that same demon was what I had seen on the other side of that portal, he’d now met me twice.
Cold sweat prickled across my skin at the thought.
I knew without a doubt that I’d help Bert again in a heartbeat, but I really hoped I didn’t have to.
Bert noticed.
“You look like you need this bed more than I do.”
“It’s just been a long day already.” That wasn’t a lie. I tried on a smile for size. “Trust me, I’m gonna do my best not to end up in an infirmary bed.”
Or in a stainless steel drawer next to Sar Gedeon.
Bert grimaced as he pulled himself up further in the bed. Dr. Stephens might have the right idea of sedating Bert to make him get some rest.
“I saw them kill the elf,” he told us. “I saw it because they wanted me—or whoever tried a PML—to see them work.”
“PML?” I asked.
“Postmortem link.”
All corporations had their acronyms, but SPI was a special snowflake.
“Your higher class demons are arrogant bastards,” Ian said.
Bert snorted. “Or drama queens. You two talked to Marty yet?”
“Martin DiMatteo,” Ian said in response to my confused expression. Then he grinned. “You don’t want to get Marty and Bert started at company parties. They try to outdo each other with work war stories.”
“I’ll try to avoid doing that.” Some stories are better left untold, especially if they involved demons and dead people.
“No, we haven’t seen Marty,” Ian said, “but the boss wants to bring him in on this one.”
“A demon coming through a portal and ripping the insides out of an elf drug lord. Marty will love this one.”
No, I definitely didn’t want to be around when Bert and Marty started storytime.
“Our Class Five—or his cohort—left me that present on purpose,” Bert told us. “The elf never had a chance.”
“You saw this from Gedeon’s point of view?” Ian asked.
Bert shook his head. “I saw through the eyes of whoever was working with that demon. They were the one in charge.”
“So one was a demon and the other was . . . ?”
“Unknown.”
“The accomplice planted the trap,” I said.
Bert nodded. “The demon had its hand wrapped around the elf’s entire neck. It was a big Class Five, and it was wearing a classic form: red skin, horns, tail, hooves.”
I swallowed, or tried to.
“It picked Gedeon up off the floor and squeezed his neck until he stopped struggling but was still conscious. Then he tossed the elf on the floor and put one hoof on his chest to hold him still. Though I don’t think it was necessary. The accomplice had already paralyzed the elf. There are spells or drugs that can do that but leave the victim fully aware.”
God.
“So he felt it when they opened up his chest and cut out his heart.” Now Bert did look sick. “In his last moments of awareness, Sar Gedeon was forced to watch as the demon ate his heart.”
“There weren’t any screams?” I asked quietly.
“His vocal cords were paralyzed, too.”
And now so were mine.
“What about the soul?” Ian asked.
“Held immobile until the demon was ready for it.”
“He ate it.” Ian’s voice was flat and without emotion, but I knew my partner. He was feeling plenty of emotion. He was just keeping himself from putting his fist through the nearest wall. Sar Gedeon may have been a merciless criminal who killed people and destroyed lives, but no one deserved to die like that.
“What kind of thing can do that?” I asked Bert.
“Unfortunately more than a few. Equally unfortunate is that the perp foresaw Sar Gedeon’s murder leading to a necromantic investigation. This thing took great pride and enjoyment in its work, and wanted it to be seen and appreciated.” His blue eyes went hard. “I hate to disappoint him, her, or it, but I didn’t appreciate it one damned bit.”
“Sar Gedeon was also a mage,” Ian said. “Mid-level power, but it was enough that no one wanted to cross him.”
“He got crossed all right,” I muttered.
“I’m sure the killer knew that, which would only have increased his enjoyment.” Bert said. “I sensed a sadistic satisfaction—glee, even—because of Gedeon’s inability to defend himself. This thing likes it when his victims are helpless.”
Bert’s telling of Sar Gedeon’s last minutes terrified me, but it also made me mad as hell.
“The thing fed Gedeon’s heart and soul to his demon muscle while the elf had to watch and couldn’t do anything about it. Is there a descriptor beyond sadistic? ’Cause this guy would qualify in spades.”
Ian spoke one word. “Monster.”
10
WE left Bert in his infirmary bed, gearing up for the inevitable argument with Dr. Stephens about how long—or not—he was going to stay there.
My money was on Bert.
Ian and I had been issued new phones and were headed out to take the next step to finding out who murdered Sar Gedeon; and more importantly, who tried to fry the mind of our coworker and friend.
Part of me didn’t want to find the trail that would lead me to what I’d seen beyond that portal, but that part was soundly outvoted by the certainty that the only way to get rid of fear was to confront the thing that scared you.