Devil's Gate

He glanced at the sky and gave her a calm smile. “It’s all right. We’ve got a few more minutes. There’s enough time to board.”

 

 

“If you say so.” She took her case as he handed it to her. Then he took his two cases, slammed the trunk and they strode toward the building. Once they were inside, she was able to take a deep breath again, but in order to board the Gulfstream jet, they had to go back outside again.

 

Duncan remained calm the entire time, and he never pulled out a cloak but he did take the stairway ramp to the plane at a lope just as sunshine spilled out over the northwestern border of the airport runway.

 

“Good gods,” she muttered as he disappeared inside the plane. She glanced at the plane windows, noting that they were already lowered. His entire life was like this, a never-ending dance to avoid the sun. Feeling somewhat wrung out, she followed him at a slower pace up the ramp.

 

The pilot and her copilot were the plane’s entire staff, and they greeted Duncan and Seremela cheerfully as they took their luggage to stow. Duncan held onto one piece of luggage long enough to pull out a laptop and a slim briefcase. He smiled at Seremela. “I hope you don’t mind if I focus on work for a while.”

 

“Of course not,” she said. “This isn’t a vacation. I would have brought work too, if I thought I could concentrate enough to get anything done. Well, that, and half my job involves growing nasty things in petri dishes.”

 

He laughed. “Thank you for not bringing your work with you.”

 

She grinned. “You’re welcome.”

 

The plane had a couch, and after takeoff when Duncan settled to work at a table, Seremela gave into temptation and stretched out to rest. Her sleepless night had caught up with her. The copilot brought her a pillow and a blanket and she curled on her side, her snakes spilling down her body and coiling in the natural hollow made by the indentation of her waist.

 

She dozed, rousing slightly every time she heard Duncan’s voice. Mostly he was arranging for his time out of the office for the next several days, but once she surfaced to wakefulness with a pulse of alarm.

 

She clenched without moving, and she knew all of her snakes were awake and coiled with readiness too. The plane’s engine ran strong and smoothly, and all seemed normal. What was it that had woken her?

 

Then she heard it again, Duncan speaking in a voice so cold and sharp it speared through the silence in the cabin like a stiletto. “…the fact remains, Julian, Carling’s house is on an island in an Other land. Further, you can only access the passageway to the island from the ocean. Do you think she chose any of this by accident? It is not in the Nightkind demesne, so it does not fall under your legal domain. We have been patient now for a year.”

 

Wow, he was really angry at this Julian guy. Then realization jangled through her. Duncan wasn’t talking to just any Julian, but to Julian Regillus, the Nightkind King and Carling’s estranged progeny.

 

Duncan paused, clearly listening to whatever was said on the other end of the line. Then he said icily, “That’s unacceptable. Carling’s magical library is too dangerous. She doesn’t trust anyone else to move it. She needs to move it herself, and you cannot continue to block her access to her own property.” Another pause. “It’s too late for that. She’s done waiting. We’ve already filed a petition with the Elder tribunal. It’s only a matter of time until the tribunal approves it.”

 

Then another silence that stretched on, until she realized that Duncan wasn’t pausing to listen but that the phone call had ended without goodbyes. Cautiously she peeked around the edge of the couch.

 

Anger etched the lines of Duncan’s expression, turning him into a hard faced stranger. His dark eyes glittered, shards of black in his pale face. The gentle, urbane man she had become acquainted with and liked so well was nowhere to be seen, and what was left in his place was something entirely dangerous.

 

Then he caught sight of her peering around the arm of the couch, and the hardness in his expression eased.

 

She said, “I’m sorry. I overheard some of that.”

 

He shook his head and sighed, running his hands through his hair until he actually looked rumpled. She frowned. Maybe that shouldn’t seem as adorable to her as it did, especially after what she had just seen in his expression.

 

“No, it is I who should be apologizing—again—to you,” he said. “I woke you, didn’t I?”

 

She didn’t bother to deny it but just regarded him steadily. “As soon as I realized who you were talking to, I should have done something to let you know I was awake, like gone to the lavatory.”