Ruby Shadows (25 page)

Just then, my little witch came out of the
bedroom wearing the long green gown I had given her and looking
absolutely lovely. I thought her face had a soft, contented
glow—perhaps from her pleasure last night? At any rate, she was a
vision to behold and I could scarcely take my eyes away from
her.

Druaga too, was looking at her—his small,
greedy eyes filled with lust.

“
My, my, don’t you look
lovely this morning, my dear,” he remarked to Gwendolyn.

“
Thank you.”

She gave him a cool smile and came to sit
beside me on the couch. I was glad to see that she didn’t put a
great deal of distance between us but sat close enough for our
thighs to brush. Truly, her trust in me was growing!

“
Good morning,
mon ange
,” I murmured,
brushing her temple with a kiss. “As you are here, I do believe we
can begin to dine.”

“
Of course!” With a
flourish, Druaga lifted the large silver dome lid, revealing a
steaming array of Earth-type delicacies. I frowned when I saw he
had really done his research—almost everything on the platter was
from Gwendolyn’s country of origin. How did he know so much about
her?

Gwendolyn was looking at the food with wide
eyes.

“
Wow—look at all this!
Pancakes, muffins, bacon, eggs, cinnamon rolls…it all looks
amazing!”

“
Then you must help
yourself!” Druaga started filling a plate eagerly. “Would you care
for one pastry or two?” He tried to hand her the overfilled china
plate but she shook her head.

“
Oh no, I
couldn’t.”

“
But you
must,
my dear,” the boar
demon insisted.

Gwendolyn smiled at Druaga graciously,
though I could tell the expression was forced.

“
Thanks so much for going
to all this trouble but I’m afraid if I ate all this I’d get too
fat for Laish to want me anymore,” she said lightly. “So I have to
pass.”

“
As to that,” I said
easily, “I will never stop wanting you,
mon ange.
But I’m sure our host will
understand that your dietary requirements do not allow you to eat
such heavy, rich fare.”

Druaga frowned mulishly.

“
But you
must
eat at least a bite
and take a sip.” He tried to hand her a glass of juice which she
declined.

“
I’ll just have some of
this,” she said, holding up her plastic water bottle with the
words
Zephyrhills
printed on it.

“
But she must
eat
,” Druaga said
looking at me. “You know the rules!”

“
I’m well aware that we
must each take a bite and drink a sip with you while breaking
bread,” I said evenly. “But at no time did you specify that what we
ate and drank had to be what you provided. I told you last night
that Gwendolyn is on a special diet.”

“
Very well, she’s drinking
her own libation—well and good,” he grumbled. “But she must eat as
well—what about that?”

“
I will provide for
her.”

I took the black handled sacrificial knife I
had brought for just such an occasion out of my breast pocket and
balanced a thin china plate on one knee. Holding my wrist over the
plate, I sliced neatly into the vein running just under the skin.
Not much can harm me but in this case the pain was intense. I kept
my face impassive, however, as I held my cut wrist over the plate.
Three pure ruby-red drops fell onto the plate and resolved
themselves into chunks of fruit, fresh bread and soft, crumbly
cheese.

I wiped my wrist and the knife with a clean
white handkerchief and returned it to my breast pocket. Then I
handed the plate to Gwendolyn. She took it but just sat there
staring at the contents.

“
Laish,” she said at last,
looking up at me. “Can I have a word? In
private?”

“
I’m afraid it’s
considered very rude to leave the table before the meal is over,”
Druaga snorted before I could reply. “In fact, some might see it as
a breach of contract.”

“
What?” Gwendolyn looked
at me. “Is that true?”

“
Regrettably yes.” I
leaned closer to her and lowered my voice. “You have concerns about
the food I have provided for you?”

“
You’re damn right I have
concerns.” She also spoke in a low voice but her eyes were flashing
green fire. “You know I can’t eat any food from Hell and you know
why too.”

“
This food is not from
Hell,” I explained patiently. “It is from
me.”

“
Yes, but you’re from
Hell—you’re a
demon
.”

“
That is my
classification,” I acknowledged. “But it is not truly what I am.” I
looked at her intently, holding her eyes with my own. “Do you
remember I told you I was not always as you see me now?”

I didn’t want to get into the details with
her and not just because Druaga was watching us avidly, doubtless
soaking up every detail of our conversation though we were speaking
in near whispers. I did not wish to delve too deeply into my
past—even with Gwendolyn. That way lay pain—a pain so ancient and
yet still so sharp it would cut much deeper than the black handled
knife it I let it.

“
I remember what you
said.” Gwendolyn nodded unwillingly. “I
also
remember the story of
Persephone and the pomegranate seeds. How she had to stay in Hell
six months out of the year after only eating six of
them.”

“
That will not be your
fate—I swear it to you, Gwendolyn. Please…” I put my hand on her
arm. She tensed but I was marginally heartened when she didn’t
actually jerk away. “Please,” I repeated. “Trust me enough to eat a
single bite—that is all I ask. It is all that is needed to fulfill
our contractual obligation.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “Just one
bite?”

“
Just one,” I assured
her.

“
Well…” I could see her
thinking. She was reasoning to herself that even if I was playing
her false, one bite would only mean a single month out of the year
spent in Hell. Of course, that is not strictly the way it works,
but as I was not lying to her about the fact that the food I
offered her was safe, I saw no need to explain further.

“
Gwendolyn,” I said,
catching her eyes again. “I swear to you now—the food I offer will
not damn you or trap you in my realm. I will explain more later but
for now, please eat.” Then I waited—would her trust in me be
enough? Would she give in and taste the food? I could not help
hoping so very much.

“
Fine.” At last with a
sigh, she took a juicy piece of cantaloupe and popped it into her
mouth. She chewed and swallowed. “Delicious.” Then she picked out a
grape and offered it to me. “You eat too.”

If she thought the food was somehow
poisoned, she was incorrect. However, I didn’t mind eating from her
hand—if anything, I relished it. Opening my mouth, I allowed her to
place the grape between my lips. As I bit down the small fruit
burst, filling my mouth with sweet juice. I kept my eyes locked
with hers while I chewed. She was every bit as ripe and luscious
herself—I looked forward to tasting her juices.

Gwendolyn must have read the desire in my
eyes because she looked away quickly.

“
There,” she said, her
cheeks flushing. “We’ve eaten and we’ve both had a drink.” She
nodded at the tea cup beside me which matched the bone china
plates. “Now can we go?”

“
I don’t see why not,” I
remarked. “Our contract here is complete.”

“
Perhaps the one you and I
made, Lord Laish,” Druaga said, speaking up for the first time in
several minutes. “But I am afraid that the contract I have with
your lovely little concubine is still outstanding.”

“
What?” I rounded on him,
glaring. This farce we were playing out with Druaga was trying my
patience. “What do you want now? How dare you make a claim on my
Gwendolyn?”

He shrugged, the dark orange suit shifting
with the motion.

“
Do no blame me, Lord
Laish. It was not
I
who initiated the contract—it was your concubine when she
accepted the shoe from the devilkin.”

“
What?” I demanded again.
“What are you speaking of? Her shoe was lost in the crowd at the
Great Central Square.”

“
And it was recovered and
brought into my establishment by the devilkin,” Druaga said with a
snort. “He offered it to your concubine who subsequently took it.
She was to pay with the human food I believe is called a samm-ich
but the payment was not forthcoming. So the debt is still
owed.”

With a sinking heart, I looked down and saw
that Gwendolyn was, indeed, wearing both of the small black shoes
she’d had on yesterday. How could I have missed such a detail?

“
It’s a
sandwich,
you ass.”
Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed at Druaga angrily. “And I didn’t give it
to him because the little bastard decided he’d rather bite a chunk
out of my arm than the PB&J!”

“
Also, the shoe was
recovered by the devilkin and offered by him—not
you,”
I pointed out to
Druaga. “Therefore if there was any debt—which I do
not
acknowledge, by the
way, it would be owed to the devilkin, not you.”

The boar-headed demon got a stubborn
expression on his face.

“
The devilkin was
in
my
hotel
illegally, trespassing on my premises. It is therefore my right
under the law to claim any property he had on him as my own. I
claim the shoe which was given to your concubine and I have not
been paid for it. I demand compensation!”

“
You want the damn shoe?”
Gwendolyn slipped the small flat shoe from her foot and hurled it
at Druaga’s head. It slapped him in the face, causing him to snort
again and shake his gold-tipped tusks. “There, fine—you’ve got
it.”

“
Most certainly I
do
not
want the
shoe—nor can I take it. It was offered to you and
you
accepted it, my
dear,” he remarked, tossing the shoe back at her. “What I want is
my rightful
payment
for the shoe.”

“
And what do you calculate
that might be?” I could feel the growl building in my throat and
the protective fury growing in my body. Only this time, my body
didn’t want to retain its human form. Another shape was trying to
get out…another creature I kept locked inside me along with all the
others. But though it was not human, it was still me, and no less
protective of Gwendolyn for all that it was a beast. It was
difficult, but I tried to hold it back as I waited for Druaga’s
answer.

“
What do I want as
payment? Why her soul of course—or
part
of it, anyway.” His eyes
gleamed as he produced a long, curving silver straw half as tall as
myself. “A soul for a sole—do you see?” He nodded at the little
black shoe, which Gwendolyn had declined to pick up, and snorted
laughter.

“
What? You want to
use
that
on
me?”
Gwendolyn had gone pale, her eyes wide in disbelief. “How
would you even…” She shook her head, clearly unable to finish the
question.

“
It goes right down your
throat, my dear—quite painless, I assure you. Well, if you don’t
mind gagging a bit—but any good concubine should be able to control
that reflex, wouldn’t you think?” Here he actually had the nerve to
wink at her.

Gwendolyn ignored his crude insinuation—or
maybe she was still just too horrified to grasp it.

“
And then you what—suck
it
out?”

“
Oh, not right away. First
you must
catch
it. The soul—especially in a living, undamned human—is quiet
a slippery little fellow. That’s where
this
attachment comes in
handy.”

Druaga pressed a button at the top of the
curving silver straw and a wickedly sharp hook popped out of the
bottom. There was a gleaming silver barb at its tip that was almost
as long as the blade of my sacrificial knife.

“
Oh my God.” Gwendolyn was
shrinking back against the white leather couch, her eyes growing
bigger and bigger.

“
You see once you hook it,
you can carve off a little piece or two and suck them right up
through the straw,” Druaga explained, grinning nastily at her. “And
the soul
does
regenerate, you know.” He leered at her, leaning forward and
gesturing with the silver instrument. “So you can stand to give
your old friend Druaga a little
taste.
Right?”

“
No!
”
Gwendolyn looked at me. “Laish,
you’re not going to let him…let him do that to me? Are
you?”

I do not often lose my temper but this was
beyond the pale. At the sight of the cruel, wicked-looking
soul-hook in Druaga’s hairy hands and the terrified look on
Gwendolyn’s face, my protective wrath rose too fast to control it.
I could feel my anger overflowing at what he was suggesting,
bubbling up like a pot of oil with no lid over a raging fire.