Burned by Darkness - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,36

his tail lifted off the sticky floor and pushed open the door that was hidden behind the web of illusion.

If possible, the cramped space was even worse than the outer cells.

There were not only the nasty smells, but there were piles of dirty clothing tossed on the floor along with empty bottles and grimy plates that made Levet shudder in horror.

Clearly Odel was on a downward spiral to hell.

The perfect place for the spineless fool, Levet acknowledged. Unfortunately, he needed the imp to help him rescue Tayla from the dragon. Once Tayla was safe, the imbecile could drown in his rubbish as far as Levet was concerned.

Forcing himself over the threshold, he glanced around the seemingly empty room, relieved that gargoyles were immune to most diseases. Who knew what nasty germs were percolating in the swamp of filth?

Worse, there was no imp lying on the ratty cot or hunkering in a dark corner.

“Sacrebleu,” Levet muttered, pressing his wings close to his body. “This must be his room, but where is—” His words broke off as he caught the scent of brandy-soaked figs. A minute later a male with long, golden hair and a thin face swayed into the room, wearing a wrinkled white shirt and black slacks. “Odel?” he muttered, watching as the male’s yellowish-green eyes narrowed.

“Yes. I’m Odel,” the imp said, nearly toppling on his face as he performed an exaggerated bow. “At your service.”

Levet gave a click of his tongue. The male was drunk as a skunk. A peculiar saying, considering that Levet had never seen a skunk so much as tipsy.

Then, before he could speak, the imp was giving a frantic shake of his head.

“No. Wait,” he mumbled. “I’m not Odel. In fact, I don’t even know an Odel. I’m…” His brows furrowed as he ridiculously tried to remember his lies. “What the hell is my name?”

“Odel?” Levet suggested.

“Yes, that’s it.” Odel grinned, then belatedly realized his mistake. “No.” The scowl made a return. “Stop confusing me.”

“I am not to blame for your stupidity.”

The imp studied him with glazed eyes. “Who are you? Some sort of devil?”

Levet gave a slow shake of his head. “Genetics truly are a baffling thing.”

“Gen who?”

Levet stepped forward, yearning to launch a fireball at the drunken fey. Not to kill…just to singe his eyebrows. Unfortunately the place was so soaked in alcohol it would probably explode.

“How could you possibly be related to Tayla?” he instead muttered.

“Tayla?” The male stiffened, grabbing the jamb of the door to keep himself steady. “You know my daughter?”

“I do.”

There was a short, painful pause as the blood drained from the male’s face.

“How is she?” he at last demanded in a hoarse voice.

Levet snorted. “As if you care.”

“Of course I care.” Something that might have been regret twisted the male’s thin features. “I’m her father.”

Levet pointed a clawed finger in his direction. “You have no right to claim that title.”

Odel hunched his shoulders, as if Levet had struck him. “You know nothing of me.”

“I know that you are a selfish coward who gambled away your soul and when it came time to pay your debts, you sold your daughter to save your own pig,” Levet snapped.

“My pig?” The male looked briefly confused. “Oh. You mean bacon?”

“Oui. To save your own bacon,” Levet said in impatient tones. “It is disgusting.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Odel tried to bluster. “They would have killed me.”

“And what of Tayla?” Levet demanded.

The male shrugged, his expression that of a petulant child. “They promised she would become a favored consort to a powerful dragon.”

Levet shook his head. How could this male possibly be related to generous, sweet, unfailingly kind Tayla?

“At least my mother only tried to murder me,” he told the male. “She never pimped me out.”

Odel glared at him for a long minute, then with a choked cry he fell to his knees, burying his face in his hands.

“It’s true,” he blubbered. “I’m a miserable excuse for a father.”

“You are,” Levet readily agreed. “Parents are meant to protect their children.”

Odel glanced up, tears running down his face. “It’s too late.”

Levet pursed his lips. He might be a bit more sympathetic if he thought the bastard was crying for Tayla and not for himself.

“Non. You can still do the right thing,” Levet insisted.

“What can I do?”

“Repay the debt and release her.”

The imp shook his head, guilt rippling over his face before the petulant expression returned.

“I can’t,” he muttered. “The money’s gone.”

Of course it was. Levet rolled his eyes.

“What of your store?” he