"How? You can't touch the bars and I'm not strong enough to bend them."
Shay reached beneath her cloak to pull out the small ceramic pot. With great care, she pulled out the stopper.
"Stand back."
Levet rose to his feet and slowly backed away. "What are you going to do?"
The smoke was already beginning to rise from the pot. Never a good sign.
"Dammit, Levet, just get in the corner."
With a flap of his gossamer wings, he was scurrying to the back of the cell even as Shay tossed the pot directly at the iron bars.
There was an evil hiss and an acrid cloud of mist as the liquid from the pot rapidly ate its way through the metal.
"Sacrebleu, What is that stuff?" Levet breathed in shock.
"A potion I stole from the witches."
"You stole it?"
"Yes."
The gargoyle delicately inched his way forward. "Um, Shay?"
"What?"
"Next time you want to rescue me could you just steal the key?" He deliberately regarded the large, dripping hole in the center of the bars before his gaze lowered to the stones that were being slowly eaten away. "I'm not really certain you should be allowed to have potions."
Shay slammed her hands on her hips. She had been saving that particular potion for Evor. One day he would push her too far and she fully intended to enjoy watching him melt into a troll-puddle. Even if it did mean her own death.
"Are you going to stand there and criticize my jail-breaking techniques or are you coming with me?"
"I'm coming, I'm coming." Using his wings to carry him over the dangerous vitriol still pooled on the ground, he darted through the hole and landed beside her.
Shay caught her breath at the beauty of those gossamer wings he always kept so closely guarded against his body. Even in the shadows she could detect the shimmering reds and blues veined with pure gold. Had he been a wood sprite he would have displayed those wings with all the pride of a strutting peacock. As it was they were nothing more than a source of embarrassment.
Shifting her gaze to keep from staring at the beautiful wings and ruffling Levet's tender pride, Shay gathered the cloak closer about her.
"I can't sense the trolls near but we must hurry. It won't be long until they are preparing for the night."
"Wait." Levet caught her arm even as she turned toward the stairs and pointed toward a small opening at the back of the dungeons. "This way."
"That only takes us deeper into the dungeons," she protested with a shudder. She didn't want to know what Evor hid in those damp chambers.
"There is a hidden door."
"A hidden door? " Shay frowned. "How do you know?"
"I can feel the night." Level leaned back his head to sniff the air, a faint shiver rippling over his gray skin. "It speaks to me."
Shay wasn't about to argue with a gargoyle who could smell the night. She might be stubborn, but she wasn't entirely stupid.
"Fine, you lead the way."
Without a backward glance the small demon was hurrying into the narrow opening. Shay swallowed a sigh as she followed closely behind him.
As she had expected the walls were lined with heavy irondoors that hid rooms where the most powerful of demons could be caged. Without windows in the doors it was impossible to determine what was locked in the dark, but she could catch a musty, snake scent of a reptilian demon followed by the spicy, almost herbal scent of a powerful imp. There were other smells that were fainter, as if the demons were beginning to fade behind those thick, ruthless doors.