Ruby Shadows (Born to Darkness #3)(77)

“Oh, of course. Here, come sit by the fire!”

Taking my arm, she led me to the fireplace and we both settled on the cold, rough stone floor together.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling at her.

“Of course. I’m sorry it’s so hard and cold—there’s a blanket on the bed and I thought about sitting on that but who knows what kind of fleas or lice or whatever it has in it.” She shivered. “I figured a cold butt was better than getting demonic bedbug bites on our asses.”

I saw she was making an effort to overcome her self-consciousness for me which warmed my heart.

“I agree,” I said. “I am very glad to find you well, mon ange.”

“Not half as glad as I am to find out you’re alive!” she exclaimed, turning to me. “How did you do it? That huge demon you killed—Gorlock—said he saw the Skitterlings, uh, finishing you off.”

“So they did,” I said quietly. “I was forced to abandon that form forever in order to appease them.”

“What does that mean, forever?” she asked, frowning.

I sighed. “It means I can never again assume the form of a wyrm—a dragon. I had to give it up and with it, much of my power. I am stripped—laid bare as you see.” I spread my hands, indicating my naked state. “I could not even transfer myself from one spot to another which is normally as easy as breathing to me.”

“Oh, Laish—that’s awful! I’m so sorry!” Her green eyes were wide with remorse. “And all because I stomped on that chipmunk-spider thing.”

“You didn’t know,” I said wearily. “My power will return in time, of course, but for tonight I think it is best that we stay here so that I can recover a bit.”

“But then…how did you get here just in time? If you couldn’t teleport, er, transfer yourself?”

“Kurex,” I told her. “He reached me just as I was abandoning my wyrm form to the Skitterlings. Apparently he also brought me back at a most efficacious time from your point of view as well.”

“You’re not kidding!” She shivered. “That huge demon…what he wanted to do to me to get my soul…” She looked at me. “You never said a, uh, soul could be gotten that way. I thought a soul-hook had to be involved.”

“No, that is simply the most polite way of extracting a soul—if there can be any polite way of doing such an intimate thing.” I frowned. “Remember I told you the process can be sexual. That is because it almost always is.”

“Oh…” She looked down at her knees which were pressed modestly together. “All right. I didn’t know.”

“Now you do.” I sighed and stretched towards the fire. The warmth of it invigorated me, bringing back a little of my power. Closing my eyes, I concentrated and conjured a warm, thick fur rug beneath us.

“Oh!” Gwendolyn gave an awkward little jump at the feeling of fur beneath her bottom. “I thought you were all worn out. How did you—?”

“The warmth of the fire,” I explained. “Because of my nature it helps to restore my power.”

“Well, this is nice.” Gwendolyn stroked the soft, white fur. I had called a rather large rug because after her assessment of the bed I surmised we would be sleeping before the fire that night. She looked at me hopefully. “Can you make me something else? Something, uh, warm to wear?”

I shook my head.

“Give me a few more minutes. Every time I call something from my own estate into another circle it takes a vast amount of energy. “There is one thing I can do, however, which requires a slightly smaller expenditure. Do you still have that leather satchel of yours with your drinking bottle?”

“Of course. I’m a lot more careful to keep hold of it after what happened with the devilkins.” She got up and searched by the door, returning shortly with the familiar leather satchel. Opening it, she took out the plastic water bottle and took a drink. Then she offered it to me. “Are you thirsty?”

“No thank you,” I said, taking the satchel from her. “There is something else I need from it.”

As I rummaged in the satchel, I couldn’t help noticing that the change of clothing she’d brought from the Mortal Realm was soaking wet.

“Gwendolyn?” I said, raising an eyebrow at her and lifting a sodden article of clothing. “What happened?”

“Oh, um…” Her cheeks were getting red and I knew she didn’t want to tell me.

“Gwendolyn?” I asked again.

“I, um, sort of fell into one of the pools,” she admitted in a low voice. “Or, well, I guess you could say I was dragged in.”


“What?” My heart started beating triple time in my chest. “How?”

Her cheeks flamed. “It was just me being stupid and trusting. One of the, uh, lost souls begged me for help and I didn’t think. I went to help her and she tried to drag me down with her. That’s how I got so wet I had to take off my clothes in the first place.” She indicated her bare skin, which looked lovely against the white fur.

“What?” I demanded again. “You went into one of the Drowning Pools? Gods, how did you ever get out again?” It amazed and terrified me, the thought of her slipping beneath the icy surface of one of those deadly pools. They had a kind of pull to them—almost a magnetic force for souls that made escaping from one nearly impossible.