Free Touch of the Demon by Diana Rowland

different existence, in a different form.”
    “He can be very moody,” I said softly. “Sometimes he’s a real ass, and other times he’s gentle and kind. But he…cares for me.” What could Ryan possibly be going through now, not knowing what was happening to me, not knowing if I was alive or dead? Tears stung my eyes, and I had to blink furiously to hold them back.
    “Truly kind, kri. Long, very long ago,” Turek said.
    Worry nipped at me. “What do you mean ‘long ago’?” I asked. “Is he not kind now? I mean, before he was exiled?”
    Turek bared his teeth again, but I couldn’t tell if it was meant to be a snarl or smile. “Can be kind, kri. But not like during the first age. Not like before the gates collapsed and the potency rebounded. And then the blades brought more shift to all.” The savik seemed to droop. “He appeared to be regaining something of his old ways in the years before the cataclysm. Then it was gone.”
    I frowned. “The what? Blades?”
    Turek traced another sigil above the pedestal. “Tools of power for the Three: Rhyzkahl, Mzatal, Szerain. The
Iliok
—the essence blades.”
    An odd chill crawled down my spine at the name alone. “But what
are
they?”
    “Knives, daggers,” he said, finishing the sigil. “Each unique. Each shaped from a synthesis of the arcane core and the potency of
iliur
, of the essence.” An image coalesced above the pedestal. A simple dagger with a gold-hued blade and a hilt that flared at each end like an elongated apple core. A deep green jewel sparkled in its pommel, winking with amber lights.
    I stumbled back, feeling as if my blood had been replaced by ice. Ghostly agony flared throughout me, followed by a confusing maelstrom of horror, grief, terror. I was vaguely aware that I was moaning,
No no no
, yet I didn’t know what I was denying, only that I wanted to be away from the terrible image, the beautiful dagger.
    My foot caught on a lip of stone, and I nearly fell, but it was enough to pull my gaze away. As if suddenly released, I spun and fled outside, stumbling down the stairs and tripping on the last one. I sprawled onto the walkway, skinning palms and banging my knees harshly. Blood pounded in my ears. A reyza bellowed. Safar landed by the entrance and hissed at the savik. My breath came in short gasps. I had to get away from there. I managed to get back to my feet and hurried away from the shrine in an awkward walk-jog. My knees and palms throbbed and stung, but I didn’t care. I simply wanted to be away from that awful image.
    Safar bounded up to my side. “Kara Gillian? What has happened?”
    I shook my head and struggled to reduce the pace of my flight down to a brisk walk. Was this what a panic attack felt like? “N-nothing’s wrong,” I said, knowing I wouldn’t be able to explain it. “I just need some water.”
    The reyza gave a worried croon. “This way. Here.” He indicated another path, and I gladly followed it since it took me farther away from the shrine.
    My pace slowed a bit as we put some distance between us and the clearing. “Where did you and Ilana go, back at the shrine?” I asked, still trying to calm my breathing. “I was lucky Turek didn’t kill me.” I didn’t want to mention that he didn’t because the savik had sensed Szerain as Ryan had touched me.
    Safar spread his wings and folded them close again. “I heed the wisdom of the Elders. Ilana said to leave you be,and so I did,” he said, then snorted. “I doubt your survival had any foundation in luck.”
    What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was a setup? A thin stream of anger rose, but between the shaking fear that still coursed through me and the realization that I’d obtained a shitload of information on Szerain, it fizzled before it got far. If it was a setup, that meant Ilana wanted me to meet Turek, wanted me to find out more about Sze rain. But why? Another note for the mental clue board.
    Safar guided me through big double doors