She blinked at him, then muttered something under her breath in a language he didn’t know as a defensive shield formed around her. Not a bubble; this was a full cloak of power that followed her shape a hand span above her skin.
He was still learning to read Twilight’s Dawn, the Jewel she now wore, but the shield seemed to have the equivalent strength of an Ebon-gray Jewel. That would do for now.
“How do you know there were three?” he asked, returning his attention to her earlier comment.
The look she gave him was Mentor to Student, since she was the one who was overseeing most of his formal training in the Hourglass’s Craft.
The High Lord of Hell was overseeing the rest of it—which was something neither he nor Saetan mentioned to anyone.
“There are three distinct feels to these spells, three distinct temperaments that went into their making. We haven’t reached the spot where the spells actually engage, but we’re close.” Jaenelle hesitated. “Daemon…”
“I know.” And it made him heartsick because the closer he got to the gate in the fence, the more this place felt wrong. “I know, Lady. I didn’t pick up that there were two more, but I recognized her.” Then he added, «We’ve got company.»
They continued to study the house, giving no sign they were aware of the person moving toward them.
A landen, which wasn’t surprising since they were in a landen village, but that’s all Daemon could sense because his Black-Jeweled power was too dark and potent for him to touch a landen mind without destroying it.
So they waited until a young voice hesitantly asked, “Are you going into the spooky house?”
Now they turned, but Daemon shifted just the little bit needed to place Jaenelle partially behind his left shoulder, still giving her a view of the boy while acting as another shield.
He felt resigned amusement coming from Jaenelle, but no protest, no attempt to brush off that instinctive defense.
The boy was at that awkward age of being no longer a child but not quite a youth. Between his age and the fact that he was landen, he was an unlikely threat to either of them. That didn’t make any difference.
“The other Lady and gentleman took some of the children with them,” the boy said, sounding hopeful.
Daemon crooked a finger and made a “come here” gesture. Better to let the boy come to them. Something shy about this one, something…
«He’s been hurt,» Jaenelle said.
Daemon clamped down on his temper. Coming from someone with Jaenelle’s past, “hurt” and “wounded” didn’t mean the same thing. Hell’s fire, someone coming from his past recognized the difference. «Abused physically?»
«Not sure. But there’s a feel to such children. Like recognizes like.»
He heard the pain under the words.
“What’s your name?” he asked the boy.
“Yuli.”
“You said a Lady and gentleman went into the house? How long ago?”
“Not long.”
“What did they look like?” Jaenelle asked.
“The Lady was pretty,” Yuli said. Then he lifted a hand and added hesitantly, “But I think her ears looked a little funny.”
“Pointed?”
“Uh-huh.”
“The gentleman,” Daemon said. “Did he have wings?”
Yuli shook his head. “He wasn’t from Dhemlan either, ’cause he had light skin.”
It sounded like Rainier had come with Surreal. Which meant Lucivar hadn’t arrived yet. Unless he’d come before the children had gathered to watch the house.
“If they took some other children, why didn’t you go with them?” Daemon asked.
He saw the flinch, felt the tremor of hurt.
“I live at the orphans’ home,” Yuli said. “The others don’t want…” The words faded into a pained silence.
“Well, then,” Jaenelle said, “that’s fortunate for us.”
Her voice was like a summer breeze washing over the boy, but Daemon heard the ice underneath the warmth.
“Someone threw a stone out the window,” Yuli said. “Just before your…” He frowned and looked across the street.
“Coach,” Daemon said.
“Your Coach appeared.” Yuli swung around and pointed to the lawn on the other side of the fence. “It’s over there.”
“Once we cross that line, the spells will engage,” Jaenelle said.
Daemon didn’t bother to argue about the “we” part of that sentence. He’d fight her into the ground before he let her cross that line and get tangled up in those spells.
“I’ll get it!” Yuli said. The boy slammed through the gate, sending it crashing back against the fence as he sprinted to a spot in the lawn.
Jaenelle hissed. “Power.”
“How…?” Daemon glanced at her. Her Jewel, which usually looked like Purple Dusk with streaks of the other colors of Jewels, now glowed Rose. She was at the lightest end of her range of power.
“There’s a hint of Blood in him,” she said. “He’s not pure landen.”
Damn it! “Does he have enough power to trap him in those spells?”
“Don’t know.” She paused, her attention focused on the boy.
“No. He’s not strong enough to do Craft, so he’s not strong enough to trigger the spells.”
Daemon held his breath anyway until the boy raced back through the gate, holding out a bundle tied with ribbons. Murmuring thanks, he took the bundle, then used Craft to put a knife-edge on his right index fingernail. As he cut the ribbons, Jaenelle created a globe of witchlight.
«That’s not the most practical light,» Daemon said, glancing at the globe that was a swirling rainbow of colors.
«It serves the purpose,» Jaenelle replied with a touch of tart sweetness.
A glance at the boy, whose eyes were wide with delight. Daemon offered no other comments as he unwrapped the handkerchief and vanished it. When he held a piece of paper in one hand and a paperweight in the other, the globe changed to a soft white light.
The three of them stared at the paperweight—and then watched the illusion spell change a dead, slightly squashed baby mouse trapped in solid glass into a creature pounding on a glass globe while squeaking for help.
Daemon stared at the globe. There was something grotesquely fascinating about the spell, something that appealed to a part of him he was sure was not appropriately adult.
Daemonar probably would love watching the mousie. So would the wolf pups who lived at the eyrie. Marian, on the other hand, would most likely grab a mop and try to beat him to a pulp with it if he gave this little grotesquerie to her boy.
“The illusion must be triggered by the warmth of a person’s hand,” Jaenelle said. “It stays dormant until someone picks it up.”
“The confused Lady must have made that,” Yuli said. “The others weren’t nice, but she was.”
The boy’s words were a verbal knife in the gut.
“She talked to you?” Jaenelle asked.
Yuli nodded. “She said the spooky house was an entertainment, like Jaenelle was making. Something fun for children. A surprise for the boy.”
“A surprise for the boy,” Daemon murmured. He handed the paperweight to Yuli, then held the paper up so he and Jaenelle could read it.
Then he swore softly, savagely.
“Mother Night,” Jaenelle said, looking at the house. “It sounds like this entertainment has a few teeth and claws.”
“My apologies, Yuli,” Daemon said. “I neglected to finish the introductions. I’m Daemon Sadi, Warlord Prince of Dhemlan. This is my Lady, Jaenelle Angelline.”
Yuli’s jaw dropped. “The Lady ?”
Well, that told him where he stood in the pecking order. “Yes, the Lady.” He paused. “I have a favor to ask of you. I have some urgent business and must leave immediately. Will you keep the Lady company until I return?”