Demon Lost (High Demon #1)(23)
Author: Connie Suttle

Chapter 6

"This is it," Lok said. We’d arrived at a warehouse, with parts of it still in use. I could hear hovertrucks backing up for loading down the way. "These kids come here and trade prescribed meds after school," Lok added. "The one who was grabbed forgot her purse and ran back for it. They never found her."

I was looking around the area—I could see markings on the floor. "What are these?" I asked.

"No idea," Lok said. I walked around them—they were spaced evenly apart—in the form of an equilateral triangle. "Looks like something from those old witches’ tales."

"Then let’s see if we can get an expert’s evaluation," I said. Wylend? I sent.

Love, what do you need?

I just need a little advice, I returned. Do you have someone who can come to Pridded?

Where on Pridded?

Shoordeed Warehouse in Parid.

Wylend and Erland both came ticks later, surprising Lok.

"Wylend, Erland, this is Lok, ASD," I introduced Lok to them.

"Love, I wish you would call me more often," Wylend pulled me against him and kissed my forehead.

"Can you do anything about a headache, and do you know what these are?" I pointed out the symbols on the floor.

"May the stars never fail," Erland said. "Who did this?"

"We don’t know yet," I said. "But this is where one of those children disappeared."

"This is forbidden spellwork," Erland said, walking around the triangle of symbols. They’d been drawn on the concrete with colored chalk.

"What does it do?" I asked. Wylend put his fingers on my forehead, causing the throbbing to go away.

"It’s a transference—you trade one body for another," Wylend said softly.

"Like Nidris did for his brother?"

"No," Erland shook his head. "That was a simple spell, making someone look like someone else. With this, you’re moving a spirit into another body. You’re trading souls around. It’s called soul-shifting."

"That’s not scary or anything," I said, feeling cold all over.

"It doesn’t last long—both bodies begin to die quickly; that’s why it’s forbidden," Wylend said.

"What’s the purpose in it, then?" I asked.

"It’s the ultimate disguise," Erland told me. "If you’re sitting in jail, awaiting execution, you trade off with your jailer, who’s executed in your place. But in order for you to stay alive, you have to keep trading bodies before the one you currently inhabit dies. You leave a trail of dead behind you."

"Unless those dead are consumed by monsters who have a taste for flesh," I suggested. "Before they die, of course. Has anybody checked on those children we found on Bardelus?" Erland whipped out his comp-vid and punched keys.

"That’s not good," Erland muttered. Lok was following the conversation, his usual scowl plastered across his face. "There’s only one left out of the seven, and he’s dying. They haven’t managed to save any of them."

"This just gets worse as it goes along," I sighed. "Wylend," I dropped my head against his shoulder, "who would know how to do this?"

"Reah, I will have to do research and get back to you, love. Will you not come home with me now or visit soon?"

"I’ll try to visit soon," I said.

Keep your promise, Erland’s voice sounded in my head.

"Tomorrow," I said.

"Good. Very good." Wylend leaned down to kiss me. Erland removed the markings with power and he and Wylend disappeared.

"Are you married to him as well?" Lok asked dryly.

"I’m only engaged to Wylend," I huffed.

"We have multiple mates on Falchan. It is rare to see the ai yevu."

"The single mate?" I asked, translating the phrase into common Alliance.

"Yes. The direct translation is my only."

"So," I said, changing the subject, "we have someone who’s trading souls with child after child after child, possibly because the Ra’Ak has a taste for the young and tender," I almost gagged when I said it—it made me feel so ill.

"Sounds like a Karathian or something similar," Lok observed.

"Yes—something just like that," I sighed. "Is there anything else we need to see here?"

"I think we found more than enough."

Lok filed his report from my apartment; I sent one to Lendill as well. I got a response right away, in the form of Lendill Schaff.

"Reah, this is disturbing—are you sure of Wylend and Erland’s information?"

"Lendill, ask them yourself—they weren’t lying. They just didn’t know right away who might be able to do this sort of thing. There’s no doubt about those children on Bardelus, there’s only one of the seven left."

"Fuck." Lendill flopped onto the sofa next to me. "Reah, do not stand in front of another bullet, I beg you," he put his arms around me.

"Honey, I sure don’t want to do that," I muffled against his shirt.

"Good. Come to bed with me?" He murmured softly. We left Lok munching on a sandwich in the sitting room and closed the bedroom door.

"Reah, we only got the once," Lendill undid a button, placing a kiss. His mouth was warm as he nipped my collarbone. I remembered the time before with Lendill—in his office. This was our first time in a bed. He didn’t disappoint. Whatever it is that he has, it comes through when he f**ks. I was begging him, I think, before all was said and done. He gave me everything I asked for, and then some.

"Reah, I have to go," Lendill gave me a gentle kiss early the following morning. "Norian is here to take me back."

"How did you get here in the first place?" I asked sleepily.

"Larentii," he said. "I’ll see you soon. Send mindspeech." He kissed me again and walked out of the bedroom. When I got up later to have my morning tea, I found Lok sitting on my sofa.

"Have you been here all this time?" My fists were on my hips.

"You have two extra bedrooms. I borrowed one. You have plenty of room; I’m thinking about moving in. It’ll be easier to communicate."

"And you decided that."

"Yes."

"Unbelievable." I shook my head and went off to make tea.

"I don’t have any Falchani black," I said, handing him a cup of my brand. It wasn’t as strong as what the Falchani normally got.

"This will do; I have some black in my hotel room. I’ll bring it when I move in."

"Uh-huh," I muttered. I ended up skipping Lok to his hotel room three times, to move his things, and then he had his cup of tea while I prepared lunch.