Sympathy for the Demons (Promised to the Demons #1) - Lidiya Foxglove Page 0,77

isn't a compliment to either one of you."

"He's so dashing," she said, hugging herself.

"I will certainly not permit you to procreate."

Chapter Thirty-Five

Lord Variel

"Nothing yet," Jameson said the first night. "It took me all day just to locate the texts that I think might have some leads. I couldn't ask for any help. I get the feeling this is potentially dangerous information. A few of the books I was looking for were gone. Not just checked out…but stolen.”

"Gone? Yes, I suppose the wizards would have reason to protect that information..."

"And I saw three familiars in the library poking around together. Their accent sounded just like Jenny's. I had to dodge them all day."

"Do you think they come from the same hamlet?"

"Probably. All I know is that they kept referring to their witches--my witch wants this, my witch said that—so I don't think they're our allies. I'd guess they want to fully restore the ties between wizards and familiars and force Jenny and everyone else home."

"Jenny seems afraid of this boy Bernard. He should have nothing to do with her. I think I had better find a way into that library."

"Trust me," Jameson said. "It's guarded and fairly busy. You would cause trouble and ruin everything. You have to trust me."

"Maybe I could help?" Gillian said. "To hurry things along?"

"Good idea, Jamseson said. "The more eyes on the books tomorrow, the better. I have a lot of ground to cover."

"Not Gillian. No. I must draw the line somewhere."

"I'll keep strict oversight on her," Jameson said. "If we don't have an answer by tonight, you can whip us both."

"I don't need your permission to whip you. It's not a bargain."

"You're going to have to trust both of us," Jameson said. "We all want to help Jenny. She already promised me rhubarb cake in the spring."

"It would be much easier to torture you in your human form," I told him.

It really had been a long time since I tied anyone up from the wall and whipped them, or strapped them to my father's rack. The screaming was so loud that I feared I might damage my hearing, and that seemed unwise, so I let the thing gather dust. The last time I tried it was with that horse thief. That was around the same time everyone was talking about Henry VIII executing all his wives.

Well, if I've gone that long without it, I probably didn't need to kick it off again with Jameson.

About five hours later, Jameson and Gillian came running toward Uram and me as fast as their legs could carry them, which in Jameson's case, was not that fast.

"We...we gotta go...," he huffed.

"Did you actually find anything out, or did you just get into trouble?"

"Faery," he gasped.

"The faeries know something," Gillian said. "We saw it in a book and then those Florida familiars came up on us and took the book from us and they're wanting to fight!"

"I tried to fight them, but I don't have talons," Jameson said. "And then library security showed up. I think they might be trying to get to the same thing as us. It's in the fae realms, by the sound of it. If the gates are down, we could go there, couldn't we?"

"We...could. Although...it is certainly not ideal. I don't think Queen Morgana will look kindly on me."

"What did you do to her?" Gillian asked.

"It isn't what I did," I said, as I thought, Well, of course it isn't. I never do anything worthy of being remembered through the ages. That is why I am constantly being summoned by the most incompetent of wizards like these three. At least they still believe I'm capable of doing something terrible enough to make the fae queen hate me...

"Long ago," I said, "my esteemed father Lord Vorsiel devoured the fair son and heir of the faery king and queen at that time and made the lad into his eternal slave. I never met him, as he had taken his own life many years before I was born..." My voice dragged out of me as if struggling through a rocky part of a stream. Where I once used to relay my father's exploits with pride, I now thought that I would not like Jenny to hear this story.

"So it was a very long time ago," Jameson said.

"Yes, but I expect the faeries will not have forgotten it... My title is surely in the chronicles of the fae."

Jameson looked over his shoulder at a distant sound of running footsteps and