me with my tummy. I see an aura around you, but no darkness.”
“I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”
Levet leaped off the small ledge to land at her feet. “It was not Zella who released you from the dungeon. It was…”
Brigette stiffened, gazing down at him with an unexpected intensity. “It was what?”
Levet tilted his head to the side. Aha. He knew there was something khaki about this entire situation. No wait…wacky. Oui, wacky.
He pointed a finger at her. “You do not know, do you?”
She hunched her shoulders. “Tell me.”
“First I wish you to explain how you escaped.”
There was a long silence. Distantly, Levet was aware of the footsteps hitting the cobblestone streets above them, and even farther away the trickle of brackish water as it dribbled through one sewer to another. A reminder that the sensation they were alone in the world was just an illusion.
At last, Brigette cleared her throat. “A few days…” She stopped, as if considering her words. “Maybe it was weeks, I can’t seem to keep track of time anymore. It doesn’t matter.” She shook away her confusion. “I heard a voice whispering in my mind.”
Levet was instantly fascinated. And at the same time, thoroughly annoyed. Why was everyone else always hearing voices? No one ever attempted to lure him into a delightful adventure. Which was quite unfair considering he was a most excellent adventurer.
“What did it say?”
“It promised me freedom,” she said with simple honesty.
Of course it did, Levet silently acknowledged. What better way to negotiate with a prisoner?
“You did not find it odd a strange voice was whispering in your mind?”
She shrugged. “At first I assumed it was Zella, but I eventually realized there was something different about it.”
“Different, how?”
“It coaxed rather than demanded. Zella hammered until she got what she wanted,” Brigette said. “And it didn’t offer me power or riches. It promised me…”
Levet waited for her to finish. “What?” he finally prompted. You couldn’t just leave a gargoyle hanging. It was rude.
“Freedom.”
“And what else?”
She glanced away. “Nothing.”
Levet clicked his tongue. “That cannot be true.”
“You don’t know anything about me or what I was promised.”
“I know that you already have your freedom,” Levet told her. “So why are you so desperate to find your mystery voice?”
She stepped back as if his words had struck a physical blow. “Shut up, you ugly lump of concrete.”
Levet sniffed at her sharp tone. “No need to be testy. And I am not concrete.”
Her jaw clenched, then with an obvious effort she regained command of her fiery temper.
“You said you smelled something,” she said between clenched teeth. “What is it?”
Levet shrugged. “Druid.”
* * * *
Basq had surprisingly managed to sleep in the cool darkness of the cellar. Perhaps it was the certainty that he was going to need his strength later, or more likely, the fact that while they’d been napping, he’d pulled Chaaya’s slender body into his arms with her head resting against the center of his chest. The sensation of having her nestled against him was intensely satisfying. As if she was filling a restless void he hadn’t even realized was gnawing at him.
Still, he wasn’t stupid.
He knew Chaaya would be furious if she woke to find herself snuggled against him. Not because she didn’t want him. He could catch the scent of her desire whenever they were near each other. But she was determined to pretend that he was nothing more than an undead lump of boredom. Basq grimaced. All right, maybe she didn’t have to pretend. He could be a lump of undead boredom, but that didn’t keep her from wanting him.
Careful not to wake his companion, he arranged her on the floor with the tablecloth pulled over her slender form. Unlike most humans, her body temperature never changed, but it made him feel better to know she was covered.
Moving soundlessly out of the cellar, Basq paused to glance around the building above them. Empty. He quickly exited through the broken window and headed up the narrow lane. There was a grayish light filtering from the sky, but he wasn’t worried about daylight arriving to ruin his complexion. Bullas were created by magic. There was no true sun to turn him to ash. Yet another reason he’d often chosen to hide in them.
The streets were thankfully empty of the drunken crowd that had spilled from the bar after the fight, although there were a handful of demons who were busy cleaning the front windows of their various businesses or wandering the street in