Vengeance of the Demon: Demon Novels, Book Seven (Kara Gillian 7) Read Free

was catastrophe. I had no real choice in the matter. But it
was
my choice to act as responsibly as possible given the circumstances. Earth laws didn’t take into account otherworldly schemes that put humans at risk. J.M. Farouche had committed unforgivable crimes against humanity, but we hadn’t executed him as punishment. We’d executed him because, with his ability to influence others, human laws weren’t enough to stop him. One hell of a responsibility.
    That said, I had to admit it felt good to make a difference. Didn’t matter that most of humanity remained clueless that a ragtag band of demons and humans fought tooth and nail for their right to remain blissfully ignorant. My posse had kicked ass at the plantation and prevented the Mraztur—the demonic lords Rhyzkahl, Jesral, Amkir, and Kadir—from establishing a permanent gate between the worlds.
    Though not without cost. Another member of our team, Paul Ortiz, had suffered horrific arcane burns and now clung to life in the demon realm. Idris Palatino was there as well, recovering from the backblast of an arcane explosion.
    Thoughts somber, I pulled into the driveway of a dusky blue, skinny two-story house owned by my best friend, Jill Faciane. She was currently almost nine months pregnant and living in a mobile home on my property until this whole demonic conflict settled down. Her boyfriend and father of her child lived here now: Zack, my favorite demon FBI agent.
    Yet another casualty of the plantation battle.
    As I walked up to the porch, I checked out the condition of the place. Though the lawn needed mowing, the potted plants looked perky enough to indicate they’d recently been watered. However, the blinds of the living room and the upstairs bedroom were closed tight, and a hand written
Do Not Disturb
sign hung on the porch rail. My worry rose in an aching wave. Zack had turned the tide of the battle at the plantation when he broke ancient oaths and severed his
ptarl
bond with Rhyzkahl. The act had shattered both of them, but Zack suffered an added blow by being ostracized, locked in human form, and cut off from the beyond-telepathy connection with the others of his kind, the demahnk.
    I’d put off pestering Zack with questions so he could rest and recuperate. I truly hoped to find him strong enough to interact again, if only through insights and advice. But even beyond my need for him, he
deserved
to recover.
    The door swung open a few seconds after I ignored the sign and knocked. Sonny Hernandez offered me a fleeting smile. “Hey, Kara. I didn’t know you were coming over.”
    Sonny was a former Farouche henchman, one who had a talent for keeping people tranquil in highly stressful situations—such as being kidnapped. That same talent turned out to be equally useful for easing Zack’s trauma, and Sonny had been grateful for the chance to use his ability in a positive way.
    “Surprise inspection,” I said congenially as I peered into the gloom beyond him. “How’s everything going?”
    Sonny stepped back and looked away. “Everything’s good.”
    He was full of crap, but I didn’t challenge him on it. I moved past him and into the semi-dark living room. A lump shifted on the sofa.
    “Sonny is overly optimistic,” the lump said—Zack, his voice thin and frail, as if each word lost its strength in the effort to come out. “Somehow I manage to put up with him.”
    “Too soft for you, huh?” I said. “I’ll see if Moonlight Temp Agency can find an angry, bitchy nurse to babysit you. Whatcha think?”
    Zack let out a breathless laugh and struggled to sit up even as Sonny swept in to assist. “I think I’d be an idiot to agree,” he said then murmured thanks to Sonny. My worry kicked up another notch. I’d spoken to Zack on the phone a few times since my return to Earth but hadn’t seen him before now. He’d managed to keep much of the weakness out of his voice when we spoke. Or maybe I hadn’t wanted to hear it.
    “Damn straight.”