Ruby Shadows (Born to Darkness #3)(56)

“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.