I set down my fork. Did they give me the wrong plate?
No. You said you were hungry. I never eat much.
I was going to ask him how they knew what to bring, then picked up my fork and shoveled more food into my mouth
instead. Two could play this game.
I ate in silence, slowly, savoring every bite, trying not to notice as he picked at his meager food. He wasnt as thin as the first time Id seen him. Hed filled out a bit, and there was definition to the muscles of his arms. Strong arms. But I knew thathed carried me effortlessly, flown with me
No, that was wrong. I had no idea where that notion had come from, but it was ridiculous. Just as I finished the heavy meal, feeling not quite sated, coffee and a raspberry pastry arrived in front of me. I glanced up at him. No chocolate bribes?
It was a test. You have never liked chocolate, he said, giving me another piece of information. I was strongly tempted to demand a hot fudge sundae, but he was, as always, correct. I didnt like chocolate. I had no idea how he knew these things, the minor details of a human life, but he did. It wouldnt do to underestimate him.
The maître d appeared at our table when we were done, and I expected to see a discreet bill placed at Azazels elbow. There was no neat folder in Edgars hand. He knows youre here, the man said in an undertone. He wants to see her.
An annoyed expression crossed my companions face. She needs time.
It wasnt a suggestion, my lord.
Azazel tossed his heavy linen napkin on the table. Another man would have sighed in frustration. Azazel simply looked colder, if that were possible. He rose, glancing down at me. Come.
I was beginning to hate that word in his cold, commanding voice. Im not finished. In fact, I was too full to eat much more, but I was determined to fight him at every step.
Yes, you are. He reached down for me, but I managed to keep out of his way, rising and almost knocking the chair over in my hurry to keep out of his grasp. The other customers were watching now, surreptitiously, and I wondered if it was good manners or something about Azazel in particular that made them circumspect. Or perhaps they were just so beaten down they didnt really care.
I took a quick look around, wondering if there was anyone I could turn to for help. But the moment I tried to catch someones eyes, the person turned away as if I were unclean. I huffed with annoyance. I was on my own, but that was no novelty. Id survived thousands decades
No, that wasnt right. Id survived years without anyones help, and Id survive this. After all, Id managed to get out of the last trap hed laid for me. Granted, it had been by his good graces, though I hated to call it that. His guilty conscience.
This new situation wasnt nearly as desperate. He wasnt threatening to kill me, at least not so far. Things had to be looking up.
We made a strange procession, the maître d leading the way through a door in the back of the dining room into a maze of dark, narrow hallways, Azazel behind me to keep me from bolting. It was scarcely necessarywhere would I go? I tried to ignore my growing panic as we went deeper and deeper into the bowels of the building. If I was about to confront someone who could bend the intimidating Azazel to his will, then this creature must be terrifying indeed.
We finally stopped in front of a large, unprepossessing door. Our guide knocked, then pushed it open, and a none-too-gentle nudge from Azazel propelled me forward.
I found myself in a cozy room with comfortable furniture scattered about, a fire blazing in the fireplace, piles of books on most surfaces. The kind of place one would want to spend a rainy afternoon, I thought, looking around me for the inhabitant.
I hadnt seen him at first, sitting in an overstuffed chair, at one with the cozy room. He was very old, with silky pale hair covering his scalp and drifting over his ears. He was as colorless as everyone else in this place, and I wondered if the same thing would happen to me and my captor, assuming we stayed long enough. He wore some kind of robe, and there was the comforting scent of pipe smoke in the air. Odd, how cigarettes and cigars smelled nasty but pipe smoke seemed dignified and comforting.
The old man gazed at me out of milky eyes, a pleasant expression on his lined face. There you are, my dear, he said, and his accent was British. No surpriseit fit perfectly with the ambience of old books and older brandy. His eyes narrowed as he saw Azazel behind me, and he was patently displeased. Azazel.
Beloch, Azazel murmured in return with the merest inclination of his head. This is not a good time.
Its a good time for me, the man called Beloch said in a sharp tone. Youll have to adapt. He turned back to me, and his smile was both charming and avuncular. If he and Azazel were enemies, then he was clearly my new best friend. My dear, why dont you have a seat across from me? Its been a long time since Ive had such
a lovely young woman visit me in my old bachelor quarters. This is quite a treat. Azazel, pour us both a glass of brandy. Pour one for yourself while youre at it.