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The bitch could have coated her other nails with poison. He was about to remind her of that—and then realized there was no point in telling her. She had been an assassin. She knew more about using poisons than he did.
“If there’s any in me, I’ll feel it soon,” she said quietly, looking past him as the hallway got lighter.
“Whoever made this house trapped at least onecildru dyathe in here. Maybe more.”
“Along with two demon-dead Black Widows. Not good odds if they all decide they want someone for dinner.”
Rainier looked back at the children, then shifted closer to Surreal. "Any suggestions?"
She sighed. "I’m tired, Rainier. We’ve only been in this house a couple of hours, but it feels much longer."
"I think it has been longer, but we’ll talk about that later."
"My suggestion is to go back downstairs. We’ll check that sitting room again for surprises. Then we’ll put a shield around the room and a Gray lock on the door. That will keep out unwanted visitors."
"That will close two more exits."
"I know."
He nodded. "Main staircase should be that way."
"You’ll take point?" Surreal asked.
"We’lltake point." He shook out her shirt and jacket, then helped her into both. "Don’t argue about it."
She hesitated. "Wasn’t going to."
That told him more than anything else that she needed time to regain her balance.
They gathered up their various kinds of illumination and their weapons.
Rainier looked at Kester, put a finger up to his lips, then pointed at the doorway that would lead them back to the main staircase.
He and Surreal led. The children followed.
The front upstairs hallway looked just as he remembered it. That wasn’t right, but he couldn’t figure out why—and didn’t care once they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Then Surreal said, “It’s different.”
Daemon capped his pen and vanished it. He folded the paper and tucked it in the inside pocket of his black jacket. Then he was up and moving toward the parlor door, slipping past the irate Queen of Halaway as he said, “Thank you for your assistance, Lady Sylvia. And Mikal’s as well. I appreciate it.”
As he opened the door, she balled up her fist and slugged him in the shoulder.
He turned on her, snarling.
“Don’t you dare criticize Tersa,” Sylvia said. “Don’t you dare make her feel bad about what she’s done.”
His temper chilled, and he replied too softly, “You’re out of line,Lady. ”
“I saw your face,Prince. When Mikal walked out of the room and you didn’t have to pretend to take a disapproving stand, I saw your face. Tersa may not understand the mundane world she tries to live in, but she understood her boy. If you were still Mikal’s age, you would have been as fascinated by her spooky surprises as he is. Especially those damn beetles.”
In that moment, he understood why his father had fallen in love with the Queen of Halaway. He could picture Sylvia squaring off with Saetan over whatever had lit her temper or nipped her sense of justice.
But he doubted Sylvia had ever slugged his father.
“No response?” Sylvia asked tartly.
“My father told me I should never lie to a Lady,” Daemon replied.
“So?”
“So I have no response.” Because he wasnot going to admit she was right. “Good evening, Sylvia. I’ll see myself out.”
She changed from irate woman to concerned Queen in a finger snap.
She touched his arm. Just a gesture of concern. “Good luck.”
“Thank you.”
As he left Sylvia’s house and caught the Black Wind to return to the landen village, he knew it was going to take more than luck to get Surreal and Rainier out of that damned spooky house alive.
SIXTEEN
“There was a mirror on that wall, and a coat-tree near the door,” Surreal said as she looked around the front-entrance hallway.
“That ‘caretaker’—whoever he really is—might have moved things to cause confusion,” Rainier said.
She frowned, then shook her head. “Wasn’t really paying attention to the wallpaper, but I think that’s different too.”
“An illusion spell could change the wallpaper. A person could move a mirror and coat-tree.”
Was it as simple as that?
“Does the front door work?” Kester asked.
The boy sounded upset, angry. She understood that. She’d had more than enough of dealing with this damn house and was feeling the same way.
“We’ll check out the hallway and that sitting room to make sure we have some safe ground,” Rainier said. “Then we’ll check the door.”
“Why wait?” Kester demanded.
“Because the odds are good that a door or doorway also has a trap,” Rainier said with strained patience.
“You waited to make these shields to protect us, and Ginger and Trist died,” Kester said. “Why wait for something else bad to happen?”
“Don’t start a pissing contest, boy,” Rainier warned. “Not here, not now. First we find some safe ground, and then we can—Kester!”
Kester bolted for the front door.
Rainier raised his hand, and Surreal felt the mental stumble as he stopped himself from using Craft to…Do what? Put up a barrier in front of the boy? Slam an Opal lock on the door, preventing it from being opened? Either action would have required a second use of Craft to undo what had been done.
But the moment passed when a choice might have mattered. Kester reached the door and pulled it open.
The thing on the other side…
Surreal’s first impression was of an engorged, somewhat malformed Eyrien male combined with something made of smoke. Wisps of black smoke rose from its body, obscuring the separation between the male and the night. The eyes glowed red like stoked coals.
She saw those things in the moment before it grabbed Kester, before the Opal shield around the boy was shattered by a bolt of darker power. Before Kester’s blood sprayed over the hallway.
Neither she nor Rainier had time to react, to strike back before the creature and boy disappeared—and she stared at a door that opened onto nothing but a brick wall.
“Mother Night,” Rainier said.
“Well,” Surreal said, wondering if anyone else could hear her heart pounding, “now we know someone who wore a Jewel darker than Opal was killed and trapped in this house.”
