Demon Revealed (High Demon Series #2) (22 page)

"I know you're not," Teeg dropped onto the bed next
to me. "Reah, I don't care if you sleep with someone else, as long as you
love them and they aren't taking advantage of you. I just want to protect you,
sweetheart. Gods, you're so young." He pulled me against him.

"If I'm too young, why did you marry me?"

"Now see, you're already learning to twist my words."
He lifted my face for a quick kiss. "You're not too young for me to love
you." His mouth quirked into a grin.

"Sounds like contempt to me." I struggled to escape
his grip.

"Reah, hush." Teeg's arms tightened about me. "Trust
me, there is nothing I have for you except love. I wish there was some way I
could get that message through so you'd understand it."

"Sure." I struggled in his arms again. Teeg was
strong—more so than he looked, and he looked quite strong. There were things
that he still didn't know about me. Things that I didn't know how to tell him,
if the time ever came when I could tell him.

"Shhhh," Teeg gathered both my hands in one of his,
kissing them before holding them against me to keep me still. "Now is a
perfect moment, Reah. We're together, and nobody is asking us to do anything. You're
safe in my arms, my love." The teardrop fell before I could stop it or
wipe it away. Safe? Even in Teeg's arms I didn't feel safe. I didn't feel safe
anywhere. Not as long as I belonged to the ASD. Vice-Director Lendill Schaff
would use me as much as he could, even when I didn't have the background or
experience to be where I was, doing what I was. I shuddered and wept.

* * *

Alcohol didn't have as much of an effect on Teeg as it might
on others. He sat at the kitchen island and drank anyway. "Mind if I join
you?" Tory walked into the kitchen.

"Glasses are over there," Teeg jerked his head
toward a cabinet. Tory pulled one out and sat down nearby. Teeg poured out the
bourbon. Tory downed his glass in one swallow. Teeg poured more bourbon. "Any
advice on how to deal with women?" Teeg asked, topping off his glass.

"None," Tory replied, downing his second glass.

* * *

"We'll be back before you know it," Arvil blustered.
I don't know why he even bothered. Heaving a frustrated sigh, I turned away
from Teeg, knowing I'd probably start crying again if I looked at him. Ry and
Tory flanked me as Astralan and his brothers prepared to fold the rest of us to
Zephili.

Folding is always so fast, and I knew as soon as my feet
landed on a polished wood floor that it might be a while before I got to see
Teeg again. I had my comp-vid communicator in my bags, but that was small
consolation.
Avilepha, I will be with
you
, Tory reassured me. I
knew that, but how closely would Arvil be watching us? A servant came and bowed
to Arvil and the Hardlows. The rest of us barely got a glance. He was small, pale-skinned
and dressed in white linen, this servant. He was also dangerously close to
blending with the wall color.

"I am Master Grish's private assistant," he informed
us. "Master Grish is waiting—please follow me." Farzi was beside me,
Nenzi on the other side while Ry and Tory came behind. I didn't miss the frown
that tugged at Farzi's mouth as we followed Grish's assistant.

Were the others prepared for Grish? I know I wasn't, but I was
hidden behind taller people, so the widening of my eyes wasn't seen. Grish was pale,
ancient and shrunken. Every bit of exposed skin was wrinkled beyond imagining.
Staring was rude, so I turned to Farzi. His face was set in a frown—he didn't
like Grish at all. If Farzi had problems with this one, it was probably a good
idea to be wary.

I also saw why Grish hadn't come to greet us himself—he sat on
a wheeled chair with a high back. It was motorized and heavy—I couldn't see his
personal assistant pushing Grish around in it. Wispy strands of colorless hair
were combed away from Grish's face, and he appeared cadaverous to me. A
monkey-like creature sat on the arm of Grish's chair, and the creature operated
the controls, moving Grish's chair from one place to another.

"So, Arvil San Gerxon, you bring your business partners
with you? Don't think I fail to recognize Wilffox and Wilffin Hardlow,"
Grish spoke. "If you think I will charge less for the use of my fields because
they present a danger to me, then think again. You are on my world and I am not
without resources." Grish's voice was breathless with the effort to speak
and his eyes were nearly lost in his face, they were so sunken. Those eyes
darted back and forth, now, watching Arvil and the Hardlows closely. He should
have been watching the warlocks instead. The moment three more men folded into
the room, attempting to throw some wizardry or other around us, Astralan and
Stellan had them fried to a crisp. They screamed as they died; I watched in helpless
horror as their bodies turned to ash and disintegrated before us. Nenzi and
Farzi each gripped one of my arms as I struggled to hold back a scream. Arvil
and the others barely spared a blink as Grish's wizards died quickly. At least
Astralan and Stellan had enough power to kill swiftly.

"Don't send threats against us—I assure you we've
survived for a very long time with the help of our warlocks," Wilffox informed
a cowering Grish. "Now, we can have a civilized meeting and perhaps come to
some arrangement, or we can fry you where you sit and take what we want instead.
Personally, I have no desire to run Zephili—I just need the use of your fields
for a few full turns."

"I expect to be compensated well," Grish whined. As
first meetings went, this might be the worst I'd ever seen or been a part of. Farzi
was now as close to me as he could get on my left, Nenzi was hugged up against
my right side and Tory was nearly holding me up from behind. Ry stood close
enough that he'd be included in our shield, as would the other reptanoids, I
noticed. A small question niggled at me, but I didn't have time to dwell on it
right then—Arvil and the Hardlows were engaged in a standoff with Grish of Zephili.

"We will inspect your fields tomorrow, to see if they are
suitable. We will compensate you if we find them so, Grish." Arvil waved a
hand as if that would make his words true. I didn't hold much hope that Grish
might survive if Arvil found the fields too much to his liking. "May we
hope you still have your bribes in place with the Alliance?"

Arvil's question stunned me and Tory put a hand on my shoulder.
Warning me, no doubt, not to make a sound. I didn't—I knew better. We were in a
dangerous game and the stakes had just been raised. I hoped Ry or Tory were
busy sending mindspeech to Lendill. My brain had gone into frozen overload and I
wasn't sure I could have sent anything at that moment.

* * *

Lendill?
The Vice-Director was receiving mindspeech
from Rylend Morphis in the middle of the night.

Ry, this had better be good
, Lendill opened one eye,
determining that it was still three clicks before dawn.

Maybe—Arvil San Gerxon just asked Grish of Zephili if he
still had his bribes in place with the Alliance.

Ry, if you'd thrown ice water in my face, I might have
wakened more slowly
. Lendill was now sitting straight up in bed.

Yeah—it got our attention too. I think Reah is catatonic,
right now
.

Do you have any names?

Not yet, Lendill, but we'll send information if we get it.

Ry—do your best, you and Tory—make sure Reah isn't too scared
to speak. Aurelius said she was crying, she was so scared when he talked to her.
That isn't what I meant to happen
.

Lendill, what were you doing when you were nineteen?

Raising hell in school—why?

Reah wasn't prepared for this. She worked in a kitchen all her
life until now. And just because she managed to kill off a few spawn on Mandil,
you put her in the middle of this. Tory complains about it every day. At least
that man she married isn't bad—he seems to care about her. If he didn't, I
don't think he'd live long after this is over
. Ry wasn't mincing words with
the Vice-Director.

I know. Look, I'll try to make it up to her, somehow. Just—do
your best to smooth things over, all right?

I'll do what I can, but Grampa Wylend already asked me to
look out for her. You don't turn down Grampa Wylend
.

I would imagine not
. Lendill's sending was dry. He
didn't think too many people managed to defy a request from the King of
Karathia. Ry cut off the communication and Lendill, now wide-awake, stood up
and went to turn the light on over his desk. He'd received a message from his
father three days earlier. He hadn't heard from Kaldill Schaff in years. Wondering
why he was getting a message now, Lendill punched in the private code to
contact his only living parent.

* * *

Kaldill stood in his kitchen on Wyyld. Not long ago he'd
learned to bake bread. He enjoyed it now—getting out of bed early to set the
dough to rise. He hadn't needed much sleep in a long while. If Lendill hoped to
wake him, he'd failed. Kaldill smiled brightly as his son's face appeared on
the comp-vid screen. "Lendill, you finally choose to return my call?"

"Father." Lendill nodded respectfully.

"I suppose you want to know what I want?" Kaldill
was still smiling.

"Yes, father, that's why I contacted you." Lendill
knew not to trust the smile; Kaldill could have the worst news and would still
be smiling at his son.

"Ah, well," Kaldill employed power to settled the
comp-vid on the wall before his face so he could keep working and still speak
with his son.

"Well, what?" Lendill had never had the patience the
others of his race did. He was only half-elven, after all. He'd wondered through
the years just what it was that convinced his father to have a child with a
humanoid. Lendill looked human, but his father had pronounced him immortal the
moment he was born. Another of Kaldill's talents, Lendill now knew. Lendill
would have died long ago if he hadn't been immortal. He just didn't get any
other gifts from his father's race. Lissa, who was very powerful, had given him
mindspeech. He still hadn't told Kaldill about that, else his father would be
contacting him in that way—quite often, more than likely.

"I know you are attracted to someone; I saw it while I
was working not long ago," Kaldill pounded dough onto the smooth, floured
surface of his wood countertop.

"So? I have been attracted to several, over the
years."         

"Not like this."

"I still don't understand why you contacted me about it."
Lendill was feeling grumpy with his father, who treated all matters as if they
might be trivial. As a general rule, anyway.

"I contacted you because, in the words of some of your
mother's race—I still love her, even though she is gone from me—you are fucking
this up." Kaldill's cursing was legendary among his race, but he seldom
used Alliance Common during profanity-laced outbursts.

It was early and Lendill had a difficult time following
Kaldill's convoluted speech for a moment. "You're saying I'm fucking this
up? Father, I'm not sure I've ever heard you use that humanoid term
before."

"It exists; therefore I will use it if it applies. It
does not alter the fact that you may be ruining any chance you might have with
the woman who is your breath, your heart and your soul."

Lendill's eyes widened.
Breah-mul
,
Cheah-mul
and
Deah-mul
were popular phrases on Wyyld. Few knew that those words were Elvish
in origin. Many Elf words permeated the native language of Wyyld. "You
can't know she is those things," Lendill scoffed, although he felt worried.
His father was seldom wrong about these things. Actually, his father had never
been wrong about these things.

"You are fucking this up," Kaldill repeated, shaking
a flour-coated finger at Lendill. "Make it right or make your peace with
being alone for the rest of your life."

"Father, what are you doing?" Lendill directed the
conversation away from himself.

"Making bread. It is my new hobby. I like it. Go back to
bed." Kaldill punched the button on the comp-vid, terminating the call.

Lendill cursed. One never won an argument with Kaldill Schaff.
Kaldill was right all the time and he knew it.

Chapter 11
 

Grish had a battalion of cooks, kitchen helpers and medical
assistants, all busier than ants when something attacks their nest. It made
sense—Grish being in as poor health as he was. We'd been awakened by
servants—Ry and Tory had spent the night in my suite but in an adjoining
bedroom. Grish's plantation palace was quite large, but my suite was one of the
smaller ones. The reptanoids were quartered nearby—Farzi, Nenzi and two others
slept in Farzi's suite, the rest of them inside a second suite. My suite was
squeezed between both. I would have welcomed Tory in my bed the night before, I
think—I felt cold, although the air was warm on that portion of Zephili. Sleep
hadn't come easily, either.

Ry says there aren't any cameras; I'll be there tonight,
baby
. Tory was sending mindspeech as we sat down at a huge table, waiting
for breakfast. Breakfast was almost intolerable—the food was bland and
unseasoned, likely prepared so Grish could digest it. He hadn't made any
accommodations for his guests—we all received the same meal he was having. At
least the juice was good—freshly squeezed. The citrus must have been grown on
Grish's plantations. We appeared to be near the equator again, just as we'd
been on Urdolus. Grish didn't feed himself, either, he depended upon the
monkey-like creature to lift the spoon and drop mushy food in his mouth. Much
of it dribbled down his chin. An assistant stood by to wipe Grish's face regularly
with a napkin. I'd seen Grish move his hands and arms to gesture while he
spoke, so I failed to understand why he refused to feed himself.