and on the leash.
He could run now. Forever, if he wanted to. When he was running, he could forget.
Silent now, so the witch wouldn’t sense his presence, he padded across the leafy carpet. His nose tingled at the odor of spell craft. He paused, sniffing in quick jerks. He didn’t smell witch.
He smelled Dalvahni and—what the hell?—roses, a shit ton of them.
He crept closer, lifting one paw and then another so as not to make a sound. Easing through the underbrush, he spotted a small glade. In the glade was an open pavilion with a glass roof and graceful, fluted columns. And flowers out the wazoo and a bed big as a Cadillac and twice as wide, and a sparkling stair winding to some kind of fancy-schmancy couch parked next to a bookcase full of books.
Standing in the middle of this Disney mind fuck was Sassy, dolled up in a gauzy princess dress.
And Grim, dressed as the Beast.
Evan was so startled he shifted to human form without thinking. Son of a bitch. Grim had whisked Sassy into the woods and dazzled her with this lame-o fairy-tale bullshit.
And the Lollipop was eating it up.
Evan clenched his hands at his sides. If anyone was the Beast, it was him, not Grim. For reals.
Who morphed into a monster when he got pissed?
Evan Beck; that’s frigging who.
Who had a tortured past?
The Evster.
Who’d been misjudged, mistreated, and misunderstood? Crapped on by the universe since day one?
Same answer.
Who was for damn sure way past due for a break?
He was. He was. He was.
Who got the girl?
Grim.
Oh, hell, no.
Evan lunged forward and smacked into a wall. Zzzt, the barrier crackled. Stung, Evan landed on his ass, slapping at his burning skin. Grim, the sneaky bastard, had put up a magical shield. Evan couldn’t do a damn thing to stop what was going on.
And something was going on, all right. Big-time.
Sassy dropped her dress. Evan caught a tantalizing glimpse of her luscious backside and the shield went opaque.
“What the—” Evan sprang to his feet. “Who turned off the lights?”
Grim no doubt sensed our presence and darkened the shield for privacy. A forlorn voice spoke inside Evan’s head. Just as well. I gave Sassy my word I would not peek. There was a heavy sigh. I have a keen curiosity regarding the emotional component of intercourse. I confess I might well have been tempted to break my promise. Strictly on scientific grounds, you understand.
“Who the—” Evan spun around. “Who’s there? Out of the bushes, asshole.”
No need for alarm. I am Dell, formerly known as the Provider.
“The what?”
I am an information source for Grim. The Dalvahni have access to limitless knowledge. It is how they traverse the various dimensions in search of the djegrali.
“Oh, yeah?” Evan edged away from the glade, his gaze darting this way and that, senses sharp. “Where are you? Show yourself.”
I have no form per se. In point of fact, I do not exist as far as the rest of the Dalvahni are concerned. To them, I am but a service, a function to aid them in the hunt.
“Then how come I can hear you?”
We are speaking mind to mind.
“No shit? You talk to everyone like this—uh, Dell, was it?”
No. I interact with Grim and Sassy and, upon the rare occasion, Kehvahn, the god of the Dalvahni. And now you, of course. No one else. In truth, I should not be speaking to you. Dell sounded glum. Grim would not approve.
“Nah, it’s cool. Don’t sweat it.”
Thank you. For some inexplicable reason, I feel the need for company.
“You and the Big Guy close?”
He brought me into consciousness. We have been boon companions lo these many years.
“And now Sassy and Grim are a thing, and the bromance is dead.” Evan’s agile mind began to whir, weighing this option and that. “I know what it feels like to be on the outside looking in. It sucks dirty ass.”
There was a pause, as though Dell were digesting his remark.
Grim and Conall are wrong about you. There is kindness within you, and great potential.
“That’s me—a regular Boy Scout. Listen, Dell, a connected guy like you should be careful. There are a lot of jerks out there. Somebody could take advantage.”
Somebody like me. Evan smirked. Grim could have Sassy. She was too high maintenance. Look at the trouble she’d gotten into in a matter of days.
He had something better. He had a freaking all-knowing invisible computer. With Dell’s help, he’d own Vegas.
No, New York. Why think chickenshit? He’d own the world.
Truly? Dell