by E. G. Foley
“It’s all right to be rude sometimes, Iz. Just ask Maddox.”
“Or you,” she shot back.
“Never!” he said with a grin. “C’mon. Let’s go find the others. I believe Dani was trying to save us a table so we could all sit together.”
Izzy nodded and waved her fan, still looking like she needed some air, but she walked along beside him through the crowd.
“So. He’s spending time with Sapphira again, is he?” She went up onto her toes, nonchalantly searching the ballroom in the direction Maddox had gone. “Is Bellissima throwing herself at him again? Oh, never mind, I don’t even care.”
“You don’t?”
“No! Well, maybe. I don’t know. He’s impossible. One minute he treats me like I barely exist, and the next, he’s bossing me around.”
Jake sent her a confused glance.
Izzy heaved a sigh. “Never mind. It’s just—he’s been a total stranger ever since Ravyn went missing. I know he’s upset, but he doesn’t have to shut me out. Then he overreacts like you just witnessed. It’s so immature!”
Jake shrugged sympathetically. He had personally given up hope of making any sense of their relationship. The weird part was that Maddox St. Trinian was the only person Isabelle couldn’t read. Her empath powers allowed her to sense the emotions of everyone around her. But not Maddox.
One of the clairvoyant advisers had told her it meant that their fates were inextricably tied somehow.
But that could mean anything—good or bad.
Shrugging off her romantic woes, he got back to the task at hand. “So, did your new admirers have anything useful to say about Red?”
She snorted. “No. They were too busy bragging about how brave they were going to be if there’s a war.”
“Guess they wanted to impress you.”
“Then they should start by treating me like an actual human being with an actual working brain. Strike up a real conversation instead heaping me with stupid flattery. But no. They don’t even care what’s on the inside. All they see is my face. If one more idiot tells me how blue my eyes are, I’m honestly going to clobber him.”
Jake glanced dryly at her. Isabelle was scowling. He could barely contain his amusement, for such an outburst from the demure young empath was rare.
“All right, then.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, “I don’t mean to complain. I just hope that when the time comes, my parents betroth me to a man who actually cares who I am as a person. Not just some silly china doll to set up on the mantel at his estate.”
“Don’t worry, coz, all that’s still a long way off,” Jake said. “You’re not even making your debut until the spring. And what with the Dark Druids and all this talk of war, the world might’ve ended by then. You might get out of it altogether if there’s an apocalypse.”
She laughed. “Here’s hoping.”
Jake flashed a teasing glance at her, then spotted Dani waving eagerly to them from the round table she had secured for their group.
He had seen her sitting there earlier, alone, arms crossed, looking bored and disgusted with how this night was turning out. After all her high hopes about the Harvest Home party, she was having no fun at all.
He felt terrible for abandoning her, but it had only been an hour or so, and he was determined to keep her out of this as much as possible.
Beckoning them over, Dani must’ve noticed Isabelle’s pallor, for her protective gaze homed in on the older girl. As official lady’s companion to the viscount’s daughter, Dani made it her business to look after Isabelle.
Abandoning the table at once, Dani rushed over to Izzy’s side. “What happened? Are you all right? Do you need to leave?”
“Do I look that bad?” Izzy exclaimed.
“You’re an interesting shade of green,” Jake admitted.
“Come and sit down,” Dani ordered, hurrying Isabelle over to the table before some other group could claim it.
Jake followed as Dani pulled a chair out for Izzy, going all mother hen. “Do you need some ginger ale? Almond biscuits?”
“That sounds wonderful, Dani. You are so thoughtful.”
“Pish,” the Irish lass said as the debutante sat down gracefully. Dani scampered off to fetch her refreshments.
“Honestly, what would we do without her?” Isabelle murmured.
Jake stared after the redhead. “I don’t ever want to think about that.”
Moments later, Nixie sauntered out of the crowd nibbling a lemon biscuit. She plopped into a chair at their table.
“Anything?” Jake asked.
The little witch shook her head, making the glittered orange spider brooch in her hair sparkle. “Nope. Not about your Gryphon, anyway. But I did collect a load of juicy gossip I could probably sell to the Clairvoyant for a small fortune.” Nixie finished her lemony treat in one irreverent bite.
Isabelle lifted her eyebrows.
“Where’s the boy genius?” Jake asked her, since those two had become inseparable of late. “Still out talking to the giants?”
“Let’s hope my brother didn’t get stepped on,” Izzy interjected.
“No, he’s back. The giants were clueless.” Nixie glanced around. “He’s getting himself another cup of coffee.”
“Ah.” Jake nodded. “I take it he had another late night in his lab?”
Nixie shrugged. “You know Archie. He’s determined. He takes an idea into his head and doesn’t let it go until it either works or he finds some other way.” She paused. “Say. Do either of you think he’s been acting kind of weird lately?”
Jake and Isabelle looked at her intently.
“Weird how?” Izzy asked, but Jake quickly stifled the conversation when he saw Archie coming.
“Speak of the devil! Ahem.”
Just then, Archie drifted over to them in his tweed coat and bowtie, one hand in his pocket, the other holding one of those little Italian coffees he’d fallen in love with during their Grand Tour.
He was chatting with the amiable Sir Peter Quince, the youngest of the Elders, who served as chancellor of Merlin Hall and dean of all student programs.
This place couldn’t run without the easygoing wizard and his adoring wife, Jillian. Her official title, of course, was Lady Peter Quince, but with the couple’s laidback manner, the chancellor’s wife insisted that everybody simply call her Jillian.
Sir Peter wore his official black wizard robe draped over his clothes, along with his usual orange tie. Behind his tortoiseshell spectacles, his friendly eyes were thoughtful.
“Well, I have faith in you, Dr. Bradford,” he was saying to Archie, who, in fact, did hold two university degrees despite being only twelve. “Keep me posted on your progress, won’t you? If there’s anything else you need for your lab, equipment and such, let us know. We will spare no expense to see our poor Aleeyah restored to her usual self.”
Archie nodded. “Thank you, sir. I won’t rest until the djinni is free.”
As the pair joined them, the boy genius smiled a weary greeting at everyone, and Sir Peter paused at their table.
“And a fine good evening to you all,” the chancellor said cheerfully.
The kids answered in kind.
They were all very fond of him and his non-magical wife. Jillian had been following a few feet behind her husband, delayed by all the people who wanted to chat with her.
A trim blond woman with a reputation for being supremely organized, Jillian Quince reminded Jake a bit of a librarian, though he wasn’t sure why. It could’ve been her hair in a tidy bun, the spectacles dangling from a chain around her neck, or the modest cut and understated hue of her clothes.
Gray seemed to be her favorite color, but dull as it was, she looked pretty, nonetheless. She had fine eyes and a warm smile.
“Bit more exciting around here tonight than it’s been the past few weeks, eh?” Sir Peter said.
They agreed it was.
“It’s a lovely party,” Dani chimed in as she came
bustling back with Izzy’s refreshments.
“Inn’t, though? Compliments to this fair lady.” Sir Peter hooked his thumb toward his wife, who now joined them. “Jilly-bean did all the work of planning it, organizing everything—”
“Well, Miss O’Dell was kind enough to help me put up the decorations,” Jillian said as she reached her husband’s side. As she slipped her arm around Sir Peter’s waist, Archie glanced at Dani in surprise.
“Did you? I didn’t know that.”
“You’ve been kind of in your own world lately, Arch,” Nixie said.
“Well, it looks really nice,” Jake told the couple and Dani.
“Glad you approve, Lord Griffon! Enjoy the party, all. Cheerio.” Sir Peter gave them a wink and then strolled on, tugging Jillian with him by the hand.
As an Elder, he had to assist with hosting duties, just like Aunt Ramona.
When he had gone, Jake poked Archie in the shoulder. “Did you talk to the giants?”
The boy genius nodded, but his dark eyes filled with regret behind his spectacles. “Sorry, coz. That yielded precisely zed.”
Jake sighed. “I guess I’m not surprised. Worth a try, anyway.”
“I’m just glad I didn’t get squashed out there,” Archie replied. “Bloody menace, those big feet.” He sipped his coffee and gave Nixie’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze as he stood behind her chair.
What an odd couple they were, Jake thought. Though they were opposites in every conceivable way, somehow they got along swimmingly together.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that they were both brilliant in their own ways, a pair of huge brains. As advanced as Archie was in science, Nixie was his equal in her magical studies.
Indeed, she was such an outstanding student that the Elder witch herself had volunteered as Nixie’s official mentor in magic.
“So, are we ready to eat?” Archie asked after taking another gulp of coffee. “We can go and get in line for the buffet now, if you like.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for Mother and Father?” Isabelle asked.
“Oh, I saw them. They said to go ahead and eat whenever we want,” Archie replied. “You know them. They’ll be socializing all night.”
Isabelle nodded to her brother, then glanced at her companion. “Thanks for the snack, Dani. This is really helping.”
As the empath finished her ginger ale, Jake was glad to see the color had returned to her cheeks.
Dani nodded, then elbowed Jake. “Let’s go nabble some of that roly-poly pudding before it’s gone.”
Jake smiled at her, gesturing politely. “After you, carrot-cake.”
Dani grinned at the latest form of her nickname.
Nix and Izzy rose from their seats while the boys took off their jackets and draped them over two chairs to signal that the table was taken.
Izzy set her fan down in front of her place for the same purpose, but Nixie removed the glittery orange spider clip from her hair and gave it a tap with her wand.
The hair clip became animated, ready to scamper onto anyone who tried to sit down at their table.
“That would keep me away,” Dani said in surprise.
With a clever smile, Nixie slipped her wand back into its holster on her waist.
Then they all headed toward the long buffet tables, where people were queuing up to heap their plates with the bounty of the harvest feast.
Since he really had very little appetite, Jake gestured to the others to go in front of him. He took his place at the end of the line, and then suddenly felt someone tap him on the shoulder.
He turned around to find his mentor and head of security, Guardian Derek Stone, looming over him.
The dark-haired warrior looked even more intense than usual as he bent his head toward Jake. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
Jake’s heart jolted at the serious look on Derek’s rugged face.
Instantly, he realized that one of two things must’ve happened. Either Derek had found out that Jake and his team of “spies” had been making inquiries tonight about the location of the Black Fortress.
Which meant he was about to get a wigging.
Or the fearless Guardian himself had heard something about Red—something he could share.
Jake desperately hoped it was the latter. Because being scolded by the likes of the mighty Derek Stone was no fun at all.
The big warrior didn’t look angry, though, so maybe it was the latter option. Jake prayed that was the case.
He nodded, his stomach knotting with anticipation to hear the news, whatever it might be. “Lead the way.”
Derek straightened up and turned around. At once, he started plowing off through the crowd. Jake hurried after him with barely a glance behind. His friends were busy collecting their plates, chatting together, and peering ahead to see what food selections awaited.
They didn’t even notice as Jake slipped away, hurrying after Derek.
Ahead, the wide-shouldered master Guardian strode out of the ballroom.
Jake followed anxiously, his heart pounding with suspense to hear what Derek had to say.
CHAPTER 7
Once a Guardian
Hundreds of miles to the east, night had only just arrived. Sunset faded, and a moody autumn twilight crept over the Carpathians, waking the owls, the bats, and other creatures of the night.
Including Prince Janos.
He had arisen from his coffin and was just finishing up getting dressed for the night, tying his cravat before the mirror—simply out of habit, of course. There was no reflection there anymore.
Pity, that.
He knew he had not aged a day since that fateful night in his early twenties when he’d made his decision to join the undead. Still, it irked him that he no longer got to see that handsome face, dark green eyes, and long, glossy black hair that had made him such a favorite with the ladies.
Hmm. On second thought, maybe it was better that he couldn’t look himself in the eye anymore. He was not sure he could have done it even if he got the chance.
But so be it. He was what he was now, and there was no going back. No changing it, no undoing bad decisions. Some mistakes one simply had to live with.
Forever.
He heaved a soul-weary sigh. Immortality was such a bore.
At that very moment, a bloodcurdling scream rose from somewhere outside the front of his castle.
Not that this was terribly unusual.
Still, when the scream was followed by a flurry of diabolical giggling, Janos turned from the empty mirror with a scowl. “Oh, what now?” he muttered under his breath. Then whooshed over to the window to see what was happening.
There, by the silvery light of moonrise, he beheld an infuriating sight down in the stone courtyard below.
Not again!
It seemed his dear little hatchlings had lured yet another wagonload of unsuspecting travelers to their doom.
His children, some twenty or thirty of them—he could hardly keep track—the tallest of which, now stood about as high as his waist.
What the little darlings would do by the time they were up to his shoulder, Janos did not care to contemplate.
Cute as cherubs, vicious as wolves, they were chasing the peasants gleefully around the stone enclosure. They had been ill for so long, but now, thanks to that healing potion he had demanded from the Order in exchange for key information about the Dark Druids, his hatchlings had recovered.
And how.
The bigger boys were presently taunting their prey, trying to grab the poor souls hiding under the wagon, while the toddler-sized ones were climbing up to try and gnaw on the terrified horses’ necks with their nubby little fangs.
Janos scowled. They were just children, though, and didn’t know any better.
What really infuriated him was the sight of their beautiful mothers (three of the six) clapping their hands and cooing their encouragement to the little monsters.
“That’s it, darling, bite
the horsey! Good girl!”
“Terrify your prey, my dove, it improves the flavor!”
Janos rolled his eyes.
Once upon a time, he had thought it would be amusing to have a different wife for every day of the week, but he had lost interest in the game once he realized he was badly outnumbered when it came to domestic arguments.
He feared he was losing altogether when it came to how to raise the hatchlings, even though the children liked him best.
Thank God he had quit, bride-wise, while he was ahead.
The other half of his harem must not have arisen from their coffins yet, but that was just as well. Dealing with three of his ladies at once was challenging enough.
Look at them, he thought, shaking his head. They did not know the meaning of pity.
“Hurry, darlings!” Morgravaine called to her brood. “Don’t let that fellow get away. Over there—he’s trying to run!”
The peasant man fled with a scream as two ten-year-old boys sprinted after him with freakish speed, laughing.
“That does it,” Janos muttered to himself.
A long time ago, he had been a Guardian of the Order, after all, serving under Derek Stone himself before his fall from grace, when his wicked, lovely ladies had led him astray.
Old habits died hard, it would seem. Defend the weak, protect the innocent. All that rot.
Well, he might be a vampire prince these days, but he would not sit around and let his children eat the neighbors.
Seriously perturbed, Janos left his chamber at once and marched out of the castle, his black banyan robe billowing out behind him, his boot heels ringing out over the cold, clammy flagstones.
The sounds of terror and childish hilarity grew louder as he stomped down the ancient staircase and through the dim, drafty great hall of his gloomy Gothic castle.
In the next moment, he flung open the double doors onto the courtyard and bellowed at his brood: “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”
The moment he burst out wrathfully from the castle into the courtyard, the children flocked away in a rush of wings and nails-on-chalkboard shrieks.
“Get back here!” he thundered.