him. More a curse than a blessing. He felt . . . lighter . . . cleaner.
With his usual calm, Gray had stepped into a hastily rearranged program and houses had been reasonable, but they couldn’t bank on the curiosity factor forever. In any case, Gray’s husky tenor was a crowd-pleaser, but not enough to carry an entire production. A grin curved Erik’s lips. It had been beyond good to see the other man. Someone whose self-contained good sense and loyalty he could count on. The spurt of humor fled.
Godsdammit, Magick was a chancy thing—fuck, he should know—and now it seemed Gray was mired in it hip-deep as well. A man with a sentient shadow? Erik shook his head in disbelief, stopping with a curse when his wound pulled.
He’d had a little time to become accustomed to Cenda before the Unearthly Opera left Concordia, and he’d approved. Not only was she a sweetheart, she was good for his friend. So what if rills of flame sparked from her palms and fiery salamanders danced in her hair? Gray and his fire witch were mated in such a way that having seen them together, he couldn’t imagine them apart.
But a few hours ago, Gray had strolled into the Spring Green Parlor, followed by a dark replica of himself, and introduced his shadow to Erik, his eyes glinting silver with amusement. Damn him. Erik’s skin had pebbled, all the fine hairs rising on the back of his neck.
“Uh,” he’d said stupidly, “pleased to meet you.”
Shad—gods, it even had a name!—had nodded pleasantly enough, and Erik had been embarrassingly relieved the shadow hadn’t offered its hand.
By the Horned Lord, he hoped to hell Gray knew what he was doing. But when he’d asked why they’d come, his friend would not be drawn, merely raising those slanted brows and saying it had been Deiter’s idea. Erik rubbed his nose, brooding. The old reprobate never did anything without a reason—unless there was alcohol involved. And gods, the man was a Purist. The irony of it was incredible. Grimly amused, Erik snorted.
The latch clicked and a figure in a shabby robe slipped through the door. Well, well, speak of a demon and he appears.
“Purist Deiter,” said Erik. “I’ve been looking forward to speaking with you.”
“Shut up,” said the old wizard. Cautiously, he cracked the door and peered out. “You’re supposed to be asleep.” He closed the door. “All clear. Gods, bossy women make me want to spit.” Framed by a neat gray beard tied off in three plaits, his mouth contorted as if he were about to do just that.
Erik raised a cool brow. “You’re talking about my Prue?”
“Her and that daughter of hers and that Rose woman. Not to mention Bartelm. Bah!” The drinker’s paunch wobbled beneath the robe.
Erik fought the desire to smile. “Your eyes must be going if you think Bartelm’s a female.”
“Bartelm’s as much an old woman as Nori.”
“He saved my life. And Nori showed me how to use my—” Erik broke off. It still felt so strange to say it out loud. “Magick.”
“Hmpf.” Sinking into a chair by the bed, Deiter scowled. “Yes, well. You don’t get to the rank of Purist by being a complete fool.” He settled back. “About the Magick—”
“Get me out of here and we’ll talk.” Erik threw back the sheet and swung his legs to the floor, letting the breath whistle out from between his teeth. That wasn’t too bad.
Deiter’s brows rose. “Don’t you think you’d better dress? You’re a lot of interesting colors, man, but you’re still, ah, interesting.” His rheumy gaze roamed the length of Erik’s torso in nostalgic appreciation. “Shit, getting old makes the Dark Arts look tempting.”
“There’s a robe behind the door. Tansy brought it for me.”
“She the tasty little morsel with the big eyes and sweet tits?” Deiter tossed the garment over.
Erik grunted an affirmative, concentrating on working his bad arm into a wide sleeve.
The old wizard grinned, watching him struggle. “I think she fancies me, that one.”
Fuck, it still hurt to twist his upper body. “Sure, same way she fancies her granda.” With a vicious jerk, he sashed the robe around his waist.
“I’m an old man,” said Deiter mildly. “You just said so yourself.” He rose to hold the door open. “I’ll yell for help if you fall. Where are you going, by the way?”
Erik gripped the dresser, testing his legs. He didn’t need nursing, he was feeling stronger by the minute. Casting the patiently waiting wizard a dark glance, he