Ruby Shadows (Born to Darkness #3)(57)

“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?”