Shadow's End (Elder Races, #9)(34)

Fear crawled through her body. Normally, when the Djinn appeared, they did so in a whirl of Power like a tornado. This Djinn had masked his Power to creep up on them like a predator stalking its prey.

Movement blurred at the corner of her vision as, with a gigantic spring, Graydon leaped to her side.

“What an interesting scenario I have stumbled upon,” said the Djinn. “One of the Wyr sentinels having a tender moment with an Elven lady who is not his.” He gave them both a glittering, hard smile that vanished in the next moment. “If I am not mistaken, it is the very same sentinel and lady who visited my establishment late last night. An establishment, I might add, that I had grown quite fond of, and that, as of this morning, is no longer in existence. Coincidence? I do wonder.”

“You’re Malphas,” Graydon growled. He stood so close to her, their shoulders touched, and his energy bristled with protectiveness and aggression.

“Indeed, I am,” said Malphas. “I believe I’m in possession of something you want.”

She bit out, “Where is my son?”

The look he gave them was so hostile and full of rage, Bel controlled an entirely useless impulse to lunge for her sword. Swords were useless in a battle against the Djinn. “He is up at the manor, but then you already knew that, or you wouldn’t be here. He’s had a rough night, and he’s sleeping it off.”

Rage washed over her, obliterating the fear. As she lunged forward, Graydon’s arm snaked around her waist, and he held her back. She cried, “What did you do to him?”

“You’ll have to come see for yourself,” said Malphas. “No doubt you can find your own way up the hill to the manor. Don’t expect breakfast, and be prepared to beg when you arrive.”

The Djinn vanished.

She whirled to face Graydon. “What was he talking about? Malfeasance no longer exists?”

He had paled until he looked bone white. “Get your things. Hurry.”

She didn’t need any further urging and leaped for her sword and cloak, while beside her, Graydon did the same. Shrugging into his coat and sword harness, he shapeshifted. She leaped onto his back.

Only when he had lunged into the air did he speak. They were selling children.

What? She felt so crazed with worry, what he said didn’t make any sense.

At Malfeasance, he said. They were selling children.

It took a moment longer for his words to sink in. When they did, she rocked as if he had physically struck her. Oh GODS.

I didn’t want you to know. His telepathic voice sounded more bestial than human. I’m from the New York demesne. If I had destroyed any establishment here, it could have been interpreted as an act of war, yet I couldn’t stand aside and do nothing. I paid for the children before we left. When I went back to the Gardens, I approached Weston and told him—not about you. Weston said he would rescue the children and shut down the business. That was when I left.

The more she heard, the more ill she felt. I don’t have any words.

While he’d been talking, he had climbed so steeply into the air, within a matter of a few moments she could see for miles. Any other time, she would have been enchanted by the view of the picturesque English countryside crowned with the new light of day. Winter colors wreathed the land in browns, golds and oranges, and trees rose out of a low hanging mist.

Almost immediately, a manor came into view. Just as the stable boy had described, it sat on top of the hill overlooking the town’s mill. She noted bitterly that it was a sprawling, palatial-looking residence. Owning a gambling hell appeared to have paid high dividends for the Djinn.

We’re almost out of time, Graydon said as he descended. Listen—Malphas can’t be certain that we were behind whatever happened to Malfeasance.

You paid for the children, she said numbly. Then Weston came to take them away.

Yes, but he can’t know anything for sure. Weston and I spoke telepathically. I didn’t say a word to anyone else. Remember that. Let’s not give him more fuel for his anger. We’ll get Ferion, and then we’ll get out.

I understand. Just get me down there!

She leaped from his back before all the gryphon’s paws fully touched the earth. As she ran to the front doors, Graydon shapeshifted and raced after her. His Power roiled as it had back at the gaming hell, with a towering fury.

The large, double oak doors stood open. Neither she nor Graydon hesitated. They plunged inside and paused in the great hall.

To her right, through an open doorway, a fire blazed in the fireplace of the front receiving room. Turning by instinct toward the heat and light, she started to sprint forward, only to be brought to an abrupt halt when Graydon gripped her arm. He gave her a grim look of warning.

Her spirit raged at the restraint, even as she recognized the wisdom in his caution. She gave him a curt nod. Together they stepped forward, looking around warily.

The room was decorated with colors that had been in fashion a decade ago. A blue velvet armchair had been positioned strategically by the fireplace, facing the front hall.

Malphas sat in the armchair, legs crossed. His demeanor was as regal as if he sat on a throne. He rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, fingers steepled in front of his mouth, eyelids lowered over piercing, starlike eyes.

Ferion sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him. He was beautiful in the way that Elves could be, his lean and graceful frame holding a tensile strength. Long blond hair fell past his shoulders, pulled back from his temples and tied with a strip of leather.