but even so, this heat is unnatural. No matter—I have more pressing matters to worry about.
If Trent is anything like Mason, he could transform at any point now. He could shift into a half-man, half wolf when he releases, and I can’t cast Maintain the Flesh anymore. Not in this place, at any rate. If Trent shifts, even a little bit, he’s likely to split me open.
I need to remember that now, to remind myself that he’s the enemy. It’s a question of survival , I tell myself, silently picking up the silver spike where Trent dropped it beside us.
I still need to beat him, to drive this weapon into his heart. I can do it easily while he’s on the verge of release. Not on his terms, with speed and strength, but on mine, with seduction.
I raise the spike up in the darkness, as if stretching in pleasure, tighten my grip with both hands, and then hope my aim is true in this darkness.
11. Caught in the Act
A loud, grating sound fills the room, worse than nails on a chalkboard. Stone grinding on stone. An outline of light appears against the wall. I hide the spike behind my back.
The outline grows brighter as a portion of the wall recedes. It’s not a door. More like a slab. It must weigh hundreds of pounds, but somebody is pulling it out from the other side. When light finally does stream into the room, it’s blinding.
I can barely make out the silhouette of a man. Whoever is moving this massive section of wall is doing it by hand. The person sets the slab aside easily as my eyes adjust. I’m expecting to see the giant of a man. I’m surprised by the reality. It’s just the opposite.
He’s slender and slightly built across the shoulders. Not tall, but not short either. I’d say my height exactly. I smell him before I can see his face. Cologne. Something scented with juniper and lemon. It saturates the room. He steps through the slab entranceway without ducking.
When my eyes finally adjust, I realize that I’ve seen him before. His face is handsome, if not boyish. He looks young, maybe eighteen years old like me, but I know better. The man has thick auburn hair, worn in his face like a teenager, but can’t be said to be wearing much else.
An old iron key is against his hairless chest, suspended from a metal chain, and he’s wearing a pair of old-fashioned boxers, for modesty.
His eyes remove all questions as to who this is standing before me. The golden eyes of a lion. I know this man all too well.
Felix Eichmann.
This is the man who seduced Trixie, Saffron’s daughter, and drained her potential.
I’m still straddling Trent with a silver spike behind my back. Felix can see it clearly, causing him to smile with amusement.
“If it’s not too much trouble, could you refrain from killing Trent? I still have use for him.”
His voice is neither high nor deep, but full of playful arrogance. The first and last time I met this man was memorable. I was casting a protective ward to keep Felix away from Trixie with Candice and Saffron. It worked, and he was driven back, but that was five years ago.
Candice and Saffron never explained why Felix has designs on Trixie, but what I do know is that he waited until she turned eighteen. That’s when he offered her a job at his multinational corporation. A placed called The Vault, the most secure storage facility in the world.
Felix and Trixie had a relationship during her employment, or something resembling a relationship. It was mostly Felix having his way with her at his convenience. It had been going on for a while before I found out and told Candice and Saffron.
When Saffron found what Felix had done to Trixie, she was furious, angrier than I’ve ever seen her before or since. Saffron stormed off in a murderous rage, but Candice talked her down, which was tense. Rather than killing him, they decided to hex him.
I actually thought that was a strange decision at first, especially if killing a manipulative warlock was the easier mundane solution to their
If Trent is anything like Mason, he could transform at any point now. He could shift into a half-man, half wolf when he releases, and I can’t cast Maintain the Flesh anymore. Not in this place, at any rate. If Trent shifts, even a little bit, he’s likely to split me open.
I need to remember that now, to remind myself that he’s the enemy. It’s a question of survival , I tell myself, silently picking up the silver spike where Trent dropped it beside us.
I still need to beat him, to drive this weapon into his heart. I can do it easily while he’s on the verge of release. Not on his terms, with speed and strength, but on mine, with seduction.
I raise the spike up in the darkness, as if stretching in pleasure, tighten my grip with both hands, and then hope my aim is true in this darkness.
11. Caught in the Act
A loud, grating sound fills the room, worse than nails on a chalkboard. Stone grinding on stone. An outline of light appears against the wall. I hide the spike behind my back.
The outline grows brighter as a portion of the wall recedes. It’s not a door. More like a slab. It must weigh hundreds of pounds, but somebody is pulling it out from the other side. When light finally does stream into the room, it’s blinding.
I can barely make out the silhouette of a man. Whoever is moving this massive section of wall is doing it by hand. The person sets the slab aside easily as my eyes adjust. I’m expecting to see the giant of a man. I’m surprised by the reality. It’s just the opposite.
He’s slender and slightly built across the shoulders. Not tall, but not short either. I’d say my height exactly. I smell him before I can see his face. Cologne. Something scented with juniper and lemon. It saturates the room. He steps through the slab entranceway without ducking.
When my eyes finally adjust, I realize that I’ve seen him before. His face is handsome, if not boyish. He looks young, maybe eighteen years old like me, but I know better. The man has thick auburn hair, worn in his face like a teenager, but can’t be said to be wearing much else.
An old iron key is against his hairless chest, suspended from a metal chain, and he’s wearing a pair of old-fashioned boxers, for modesty.
His eyes remove all questions as to who this is standing before me. The golden eyes of a lion. I know this man all too well.
Felix Eichmann.
This is the man who seduced Trixie, Saffron’s daughter, and drained her potential.
I’m still straddling Trent with a silver spike behind my back. Felix can see it clearly, causing him to smile with amusement.
“If it’s not too much trouble, could you refrain from killing Trent? I still have use for him.”
His voice is neither high nor deep, but full of playful arrogance. The first and last time I met this man was memorable. I was casting a protective ward to keep Felix away from Trixie with Candice and Saffron. It worked, and he was driven back, but that was five years ago.
Candice and Saffron never explained why Felix has designs on Trixie, but what I do know is that he waited until she turned eighteen. That’s when he offered her a job at his multinational corporation. A placed called The Vault, the most secure storage facility in the world.
Felix and Trixie had a relationship during her employment, or something resembling a relationship. It was mostly Felix having his way with her at his convenience. It had been going on for a while before I found out and told Candice and Saffron.
When Saffron found what Felix had done to Trixie, she was furious, angrier than I’ve ever seen her before or since. Saffron stormed off in a murderous rage, but Candice talked her down, which was tense. Rather than killing him, they decided to hex him.
I actually thought that was a strange decision at first, especially if killing a manipulative warlock was the easier mundane solution to their
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