Dead Man's Deal The Asylum Tales - By Jocelynn Drake Page 0,159
at me, sending a chill down my spine. “Next time you come before the council, you may want to consider dressing for the event, Master Powell.” He dipped his staff toward me and I could feel a wash of magic run down my body like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over my head. I held his gaze, refusing to flinch, until he disappeared. When I looked down, I found myself wearing a suit identical to the one Gideon had on.
I wanted to scream, and cry, and burn the whole fucking place down. Instead, I looked over at Gideon to find him staring at the chair the dandy had sat in.
“Who was that?”
Gideon sighed, a sound that seemed to come up from the bottom of his soul. “Darius Courtland. You don’t want his attention. You definitely don’t want to be caught alone with him. He makes Thorn and Fox look like Boy Scouts.”
“Figured as much,” I muttered. That was about how my luck ran. There wasn’t anyone on the council I particularly wanted to face off against, but there was something about Darius that made my blood run cold with fear.
“I think he’s the one who killed Peter.” Gideon’s voice had dipped to a whisper, as if he was afraid that someone was listening, but we were now alone in the council chamber.
The warlock blinked and turned to face me. Sadness filled his eyes, making me feel uncomfortable, mostly because he was sad about the things I wasn’t yet letting myself think about. If there was anyone who knew what the agreement I had just made cost me, it was Gideon. I had a feeling that in the deep dark of the night, when he had his arms wrapped tightly around the waist of his secret wife as they cuddled in bed, he wished he had gotten out like me.
“Welcome home,” he said, a grim smile touching the corners of his mouth.
Oh God . . . I was back.
30
IT WAS NEARLY three in the afternoon and the sun was beating down from a clear blue sky as if it was trying to convince the inhabitants of Low Town that it was the middle of June rather than the start of October. Leaning against the side of my SUV, I tilted my face up and closed my eyes as I soaked in the warmth. The leaves had already started to change into a blend of red, yellow, and orange, and the smell in the air held echoes of fall, but today felt like summer with the warm air and the distant growl of lawn mowers gliding across lawns.
My birthday was only a few days away and we were hoping the nice weather would hold up. Trixie was planning a grill-out, complete with scorched meat, fireworks, and a plastic wading pool, because she was desperately trying to keep a smile on my face. She had even gone so far as to suggest that I invite Gideon and his family, though I wasn’t expecting them to show. I hadn’t been smiling much since my return from the Ivory Tower. Trixie hadn’t asked what happened, and I hadn’t volunteered any information, but the question was coming. For now, she waited and watched me with a worried look when she didn’t think I could see her.
The Towers had made no demands of me yet, but that would come too. The world had fallen into a tense peace as people tried to return to their lives while holding their breath in anticipation. Few knew why the Towers had destroyed Indianapolis or attacked Low Town and most didn’t think the attacks were over yet.
The sound of leathery wings flapping caught my attention. I lowered my face and opened my eyes as I turned toward the noise. Duff landed on the hood of the SUV, where he did a little dance, hopping from one foot to the other as his bare feet cooked on the hot metal. With a frown, I stepped close so that he could crawl up to perch half on my shoulder and half on my head while his long tail curled around my arm.
Duff weighed the same as a small dog, so this wasn’t the most comfortable position, but for some reason, he liked to be close to me. In the few times he’d popped into the parlor, I’d never seen him try this with Bronx or Trixie.
“Were you waiting for me?” he asked with a chuckle.