Ruby Shadows (Born to Darkness #3)(39)

Mind made up, I began filling the tub. I was just pouring a generous dollop of some sweet, floral scented bubble bath under the running faucet when I heard a knock at the door. It was so soft that at first I wasn’t certain I’d heard anything—it was hard to hear over the rush of the water. Then it came again—louder this time. Someone was definitely at the door.

I felt a stab of apprehension. Who could it be? Laish had warned me not to trust anyone or to let anyone in. Should I even go look or just ignore it?

The knocking sounded again—even louder—and I decided to at least go to the door. There was a peephole in it, just under the brass number four—I had seen it as we came in. So I could look and decide if I wanted to open the door.

Quietly, I crept to the door and put my eye to the peephole. At first I didn’t see anything at all. Then a small voice said,

“Hey lady! Down here.”

Standing on my tiptoes, I tried another angle and was able to look down. To my surprise, it was the curly-headed blond boy from outside the hotel. He had something behind his back and he was looking up at me, his big blue eyes filled with hope.

“Lady,” he said again. “Are you there?”

“I’m here,” I said though the door. “What do you want sweetheart? And how did you get in here?”

“Snuck in when the guards were lettin’ somebody important in,” he said. “Got your shoe.”

He held up the other black ballet flat—the one that I’d lost in the fight with the demon in the crowded central square of Baator.

“Noticed you only had one,” he said. “And I thought…” He scuffed one bare, dirty foot in the rich carpet. “Thought you looked sad about it. So I went and found it and brought it back.” He held it higher, toward the peephole. “If you open the door I’ll give it to you.”

“Of course.” I started to unlock the door…then hesitated. Laish’s command that I not open the door to anyone still rang in my head. But surely this sweet little cherub didn’t pose a threat, did he? He’d gone out in that horrible crowd to find my shoe and risked being beaten by the doormen to sneak in and give it to me—how dangerous could he be?


I wavered for a moment but then I saw the gold chain to one side of the door. Of course—I could put the chain on and just open it a little! It seemed like a silly precaution but Laish had been so damn adamant about me not opening the door that I decided to use it.

Sliding the chain in place, I opened the door just the two inch crack it allowed. The curly little cherub was still standing there, waiting patiently and holding out my shoe.

“Here you go, lady,” he said. “You want it?”

“Of course. Thank you.”

Luckily the ballet flat wasn’t very big or it never would have fit through the crack in the door. The little boy didn’t say a word about it though—maybe he was used to not being trusted. He just shoved the thin black leather shoe through to me and turned to go.

“Wait!” The sight of his ragged little figure and hollow cheeks tore at my conscious. I mean, I try to pretend I’m a big, bad witch with a cold-ass heart but inside I’m kind of a marshmallow. When it comes to kids, anyway.

“Yeah?” He turned back hopefully, looking at me.

“You deserve a reward for going out in that awful crowd and getting my shoe for me,” I said. “In fact, you shouldn’t have gone out at all. It’s too dangerous!”

“Got to.” He shrugged. “We do it every day anyway. Sometimes people drop things—stuff to eat. You know.”

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” I asked, my heart aching for him.

He nodded, his curls flopping adorably with the exaggerated movement.

“Oh yeah! So hungry. Always hungry cause there’s never enough to eat.”

His words gave me an idea.

“Wait here a minute,” I said and went to my leather satchel, which I’d left lying on the white leather sofa. Digging out the faded plastic Sponge Bob sandwich box, I brought it with me to the door. Since it was spelled never to be empty, I could give the little boy a sandwich to eat at least. Actually, I could give him a lot of sandwiches—maybe he could bring them back to the little ragged band of street kids and they could have a feast.

Smiling at the idea, I returned to the door and reached into the Sponge Bob box.

“Here you go,” I said to the little face, waiting just outside. “I hope you like peanut butter and strawberry jam.” Pulling out a dripping, gooey PB&J, I held it out to show him.

His big blue eyes widened.

“Wow—is that for me?”

“Sure is, sweetie.” Then I realized the thick, gooey sandwich was never going to make it through the two inch crack in the door. Not without dripping strawberry jam everywhere, anyway. And I didn’t like to think what kind of damage deposit Druaga would charge for getting strawberry jam out of his immaculate carpet and off his perfect walls.

Then I got irritated with myself.

Oh to Hell with it—this is ridiculous! He’s a little boy—it can’t hurt to open the door long enough to give him a sandwich!

“Hang on,” I told the little cherub. Reaching up one handed, I released the chain and swung the door open. Then I held the sandwich out to him. “Here you go, sweetie.”