Two demons came out onto the porch as we pulled up—the one who’d dropped off the car and a plump, grandmotherly-looking one who wore a flowered apron and had small pink horns.
She was so different than the demons who were attracted to the Ubilaz’s power. She looked really nice, actually.
Roarke stopped the car in front of the steps and came around to my side, pulling me out of the seat as soon as I’d opened the door. He lifted me up against his chest as I clutched the sword hilt that the Phantom dragon had given me.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
He glanced at my feet. “No shoes, remember?”
Now that he’d pointed it out, my toes were cold. And the icy ground looked even colder. As a matter of fact, all I wanted to do right now was thaw my toes in a warm bath.
“You look dreadful,” the grandmotherly demon said as we approached.
I frowned.
“Not you, deary.” She clucked. “Him.”
I glanced up at Roarke, who did look pretty bad. His hair was matted with blood from his head wound, and his face was still pale.
“Thanks,” Roarke said. “Are you the healer?”
“Riorda, at your service.” She smiled. “And the cook.”
“Thank you for coming.” He turned to the male demon. “And thank you for setting this up, Florus.”
Florus and Riorda nodded, then turned and went into the house. We followed, Roarke carrying me into the lovely old foyer. The wood was warm and gleaming, and the light sparkled from a crystal chandelier.
“You can take a bath if you like,” Roarke said as he set me down. “I’m going to let the healer take care of my wings, then we can eat.”
“Sounds genius. Thanks.” I started up the stairs, which were carpeted in a soft crimson runner that felt divine under my toes. Near the top, I felt the surge of Roarke’s magic as he shifted to his demon form. I turned, taking a peek, and winced at the sight of his torn-up wings.
Damn, they looked bad. I hoped the healer could get them back to normal. He didn’t deserve that for helping me.
I found a pretty bedroom at the top of the stairs and went inside. It was a large space, done up in many shades of blue, with a four-poster bed and picture windows. Two big armchairs sat in front of a massive fireplace, and a door on the other side gave a glimpse of the bathroom.
I hurried toward my destination, avoiding the mirrors like the plague. No way I looked even halfway decent after what I’d just been through. The sight of the massive, claw footed tub made me grin. It sat at the back of the large bathroom, which was done entirely in cream marble. Whoever had renovated the space had tried to retain the charm and details of the old house, but had given it all of the modern conveniences.
Fancy, fancy.
I set the sword hilt on the ground near the tub and fiddled with the taps, letting the water flow. I stripped off Roarke’s coat and my underwear and jumped in as soon as the water was a few inches deep. It was too hot, but I didn’t care. Slowly, the tub filled, thawing my muscles.
I stared at the ceiling, replaying the meeting with the Phantom dragons. Curious, I picked up the sword hilt that I’d set on the ground and studied it. The metal was something unique. At one glance, it looked like silver. At another, it looked like gold.
And the carvings… They were so ornate, and their swirls and loops looked almost like words.
The thing felt natural in my hands, and even my chest felt calmer. It was a strange feeling. Almost like my magic felt more tranquil. As if it weren’t ricocheting around inside of me, waiting for me to get a handle on it. I still had to find the blade if I wanted to control my Ubilaz power, but I was getting closer.
I could feel it.
I was definitely getting closer with Roarke, too. I was going to get answers to my questions tonight, I hoped. Though I was a bit nervous about it, I felt so much better after laying it all out there.
But what would he reveal? The bombshell about his magic being stronger when he touched me was crazy. Like we were a weird, deathly pair or something.
I shook the thought away. It was more than I wanted to process right now.
Once the water went cold, I climbed out. There were fluffy white towels on the vanity and an even fluffier robe hanging from the hook on the door. I dried off and put on the robe, then picked up the sword hilt, unwilling to let it go from my side. By the time I got out to the bedroom, I was seriously dragging.
The last few days had been exhausting.
The cozy armchairs by the fire called to me. Just one little sit. For a moment.
I sank into the one nearest the window, sighing at how amazing it felt.
Though it was a little chilly, the idea of getting up to build a fire in the hearth was out of the question. Even getting up to hunt down the thermostat wasn’t going to happen.
I snuggled deeper into my robe and fiddled with the sword hilt, gazing at the dead hearth.
This fireplace had once had a fire in it. What if I just brought it back?
I gripped the sword hilt and called on my magic. Before I’d even fully envisioned the fireplace roaring with orange flame, it had flickered to life.
Well, that was easy.
The warmth was lovely, glowing and bright. I could even feel that part of my magic inside of me like a distinct part of myself. It glowed like a bright light. As for the Ubilaz demon’s power, I could feel that too. It felt cold and dark, sitting right behind my ribcage on the lower left side. And I couldn’t control it. Not like I could control my gift over the past.
The thought bummed me out.
I wallowed for a moment, then became annoyed.
I had so much more control than I’d had before! After a good night’s sleep, I would find the blade to this sword, and everything would be fine.
To prove that I was getting better with my magic, I tried turning back the clock to a time when a cat might have been in this room. After a moment, a chubby tabby appeared, sleeping on a cushion in front of the fire.
I grinned and sat up straight, making kissy noises.
The cat looked up, and after a brief moment of confusion, stood and stretched, then jumped into my lap. I pet its warm fur, immediately comforted by the little body.
“Maybe I should keep you,” I said. “Name you Fang, or something.”
The cat just purred.
But of course I couldn’t keep him. If I didn’t send him back to the past where he belonged, I’d be catnapping him from whatever family he lived with. He clearly had a good life.
I sighed as a knock sounded on the door.
“You better go home,” I whispered to the cat, then sent him back to whatever year he’d come from. The cushion disappeared from in front of the fire as well.
The knock sounded again.
“Yes?” I said.
“Can I come in?” Roarke asked.
“Sure.”
The door opened and he entered, carrying a tray laden with sandwiches and a box of red wine. He looked much better—clean and healed.
“My favorite,” I said. “Thanks.”
“I thought you might be too tired to come downstairs.” He sat in the chair next to me and handed me a plate. “Cheese and onion.”