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I looked back at Lucius. “I’ll go with you.”
He smiled, showing teeth. “I knew I was right about you. Smart woman.”
Chapter 43
Demos
The crow circled above the parapet where Demos stood on the roof of the Mor. The beast’s black wings were open in an elegant display of aerial control as it seemed to hover against the backdrop of a light gray sky, where a dusting of snow rained down.
The ebony creature landed with grace, roosting on a stone arch that decorated the battlements, and faced Demos. It tilted its head, released a rattling call, before it hopped down, landing at Demos’ feet.
“Phobius,” Demos said, watching as the crow seemed to blur and grow in size until finally transforming from bird to man, wearing black robes of midnight that matched his long hair.
“Demos of Erikos,” Phobius said with a mocking tone. His bright blue eyes flashed in mirth.
Demos eyed him with wary disdain. “I heard about one of the guests having a pet crow. I had a feeling it might be you. Unfortunately,” Demos said dryly.
Phobius leaned against the parapet, regarding the Servant. “You did well.”
Demos looked away and out into the northern sky. “Why are you here? Did you not trust I’d see her delivered?”
“My presence is my own business and doesn’t concern you.”
“Then what do you want?”
“Always so pleasant.”
Demos glared at him.
Phobius smirked. “I saw you moping up here and thought I’d come and say hello.” Phobius reached into his robes and pulled out a letter. “And to give you this.”
Demos looked at the sealed parchment and took it, tucking it into the pocket of his robes. He would read it later in private. “Is that all?”
“Oh, what’s eating at you, Brother? Is it the girl? I admit she is quite lovely.”
Tension in his jaw betrayed him, and Demos looked sharply at his brother.
Phobius laughed low. “It is the girl. I didn’t see that coming! Wishing you had her for yourself? Such a pity.”
“You said your hello and gave me the letter. Unless you have something else for me, leave.”
His brother only sighed before turning to face the grounds of Goth Mor Helle, his back to Demos. The snow was picking up, but none of it seemed to touch Phobius’ black robes.
“It’s good to see this place again after all this time,” his brother mused with false sentiment. “So many memories! I imagine it is the same for you.”
Demos refused to be baited into an intimate discussion and readied himself to leave. But his brother’s next words made him stop in his tracks.
“In about an hour the Owl will arrive. If I were you, I’d think fast. Seems you underestimated them.”
Demos narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying.”
Turning around, Phobius pointed to somewhere behind Demos. “Look for yourself.”
His heart rate picked up. The Servant watched as Phobius shifted back from man to crow. The midnight-feathered creature flew off into the night, heading northwest.
There was no have time to wonder why his brother was at the Mor or what he was up to. If the Owl were really coming, Phobius was right; Demos needed to think fast.
He pulled out the letter from his pocket, broke the seal, and read its contents. There were only a few words. He walked over to a burning torch and watched as the message curled into a hungry flame before releasing it to the ground, where it hissed on the wet stone.
