lawn. If this kept up, someone would notice the vultures.
Druan turned to the minion. “If the time vault has been moved, it couldn’t have gone far. It was heavy as a ship.” He’d tortured a young warrior decades ago, attempting to discover how they transported the vaults, but the warrior had stayed loyal until death.
Another knock sounded, and Malek walked into the room without waiting for permission. The minion dropped his head in deference as Malek passed.
“The human is here,” Malek said, brushing the streak of silver adorning his thick, auburn hair.
“Let him wait,” Druan said, wishing he could throw Malek out, or at least figure out why he was here. But he couldn’t refuse hospitality to one of the League. He turned to the minion. “Time’s running out. Find the vault or you’ll be replaced. ”
He would’ve checked on it sooner, but he’d been so busy with the war and trying to salvage his lost virus, while convincing the rest of the League that the warrior had lied. He’d never dreamed someone might move the damned thing.
The minion kept his head lowered. “Yes, Master.” He followed Malek from the room, and Druan thought he saw a smirk.
That one needed watching. With minions, you never knew when they’d turn on you. If this wasn’t over soon, he’d get rid of the lot of them and start fresh. He knew a demon in Haiti who could supply as many as needed.
He moved back to the mirror, concentrating, but all he could see was himself. That oaf of a sorcerer. He frowned, growing angry when he realized how often he was slipping into human expressions, even when there was no one around to see his disguise, although he was glad it had remained intact after all this time. He admired the front and then turned away from the mirror, spinning his head around backwards.
Yes. That side was holding up, as well.
***
It was worse than trying to keep up with a child. Bree tucked the receipt in her wallet and searched the street for Faelan’s dark head. A warrior should be easy to spot. She hoped he was a warrior. A demon couldn’t look that good.
Then again, Satan couldn’t have been too ugly, or Eve would’ve run screaming from the Garden of Eden instead of listening to his lies. And Lucifer, the morning star, the signet of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty—yikes—until his pride corrupted him and he tried to become greater than God. The dark angels, demons disguised as angels of light, all beautiful. Like Faelan, who was hiding everything but his name. He probably would’ve hidden that too, if he hadn’t been half unconscious when she asked.
Bree spied a bakery, and a few stores down, a lingerie shop. Food and sex. She hurried toward Margaret’s Bakery, since it was closest. An assortment of delicious aromas teased her nose as she opened the door. A round, pink-cheeked woman smiled from behind the counter.
“I’m looking for a man—” Bree started.
“Aren’t we all, dear? All I got’s bread and doughnuts, but they’re the next best thing.”
“I don’t know about that… well, maybe doughnuts. I’ve lost my… friend. He’s tall—six four—longish dark hair, wearing a kilt.”
“Oh, him.” She smacked a hand over her heart. “I’d take him over doughnuts any day. He just left. Ate all the banana nut bread samples and headed for the lingerie—”
Bree’s feet were already in motion as she shouted thanks over her shoulder. The door slammed on the woman’s reply. Bree speed-walked down the street, dodging the morning shoppers, her tote bag with Faelan’s new clothes bumping her thigh.
Faelan in a lingerie shop? He’d have a heart attack. In his time prostitutes would’ve worn more clothing than the average woman today. Bree burst through the door, and there he was, in all his kilted glory, standing near the edible panty display, holding a tiny piece of material in his hands.
“Go ask if he needs help,” one of the slack-jawed girls whispered to
Druan turned to the minion. “If the time vault has been moved, it couldn’t have gone far. It was heavy as a ship.” He’d tortured a young warrior decades ago, attempting to discover how they transported the vaults, but the warrior had stayed loyal until death.
Another knock sounded, and Malek walked into the room without waiting for permission. The minion dropped his head in deference as Malek passed.
“The human is here,” Malek said, brushing the streak of silver adorning his thick, auburn hair.
“Let him wait,” Druan said, wishing he could throw Malek out, or at least figure out why he was here. But he couldn’t refuse hospitality to one of the League. He turned to the minion. “Time’s running out. Find the vault or you’ll be replaced. ”
He would’ve checked on it sooner, but he’d been so busy with the war and trying to salvage his lost virus, while convincing the rest of the League that the warrior had lied. He’d never dreamed someone might move the damned thing.
The minion kept his head lowered. “Yes, Master.” He followed Malek from the room, and Druan thought he saw a smirk.
That one needed watching. With minions, you never knew when they’d turn on you. If this wasn’t over soon, he’d get rid of the lot of them and start fresh. He knew a demon in Haiti who could supply as many as needed.
He moved back to the mirror, concentrating, but all he could see was himself. That oaf of a sorcerer. He frowned, growing angry when he realized how often he was slipping into human expressions, even when there was no one around to see his disguise, although he was glad it had remained intact after all this time. He admired the front and then turned away from the mirror, spinning his head around backwards.
Yes. That side was holding up, as well.
***
It was worse than trying to keep up with a child. Bree tucked the receipt in her wallet and searched the street for Faelan’s dark head. A warrior should be easy to spot. She hoped he was a warrior. A demon couldn’t look that good.
Then again, Satan couldn’t have been too ugly, or Eve would’ve run screaming from the Garden of Eden instead of listening to his lies. And Lucifer, the morning star, the signet of perfection, full of wisdom and perfect in beauty—yikes—until his pride corrupted him and he tried to become greater than God. The dark angels, demons disguised as angels of light, all beautiful. Like Faelan, who was hiding everything but his name. He probably would’ve hidden that too, if he hadn’t been half unconscious when she asked.
Bree spied a bakery, and a few stores down, a lingerie shop. Food and sex. She hurried toward Margaret’s Bakery, since it was closest. An assortment of delicious aromas teased her nose as she opened the door. A round, pink-cheeked woman smiled from behind the counter.
“I’m looking for a man—” Bree started.
“Aren’t we all, dear? All I got’s bread and doughnuts, but they’re the next best thing.”
“I don’t know about that… well, maybe doughnuts. I’ve lost my… friend. He’s tall—six four—longish dark hair, wearing a kilt.”
“Oh, him.” She smacked a hand over her heart. “I’d take him over doughnuts any day. He just left. Ate all the banana nut bread samples and headed for the lingerie—”
Bree’s feet were already in motion as she shouted thanks over her shoulder. The door slammed on the woman’s reply. Bree speed-walked down the street, dodging the morning shoppers, her tote bag with Faelan’s new clothes bumping her thigh.
Faelan in a lingerie shop? He’d have a heart attack. In his time prostitutes would’ve worn more clothing than the average woman today. Bree burst through the door, and there he was, in all his kilted glory, standing near the edible panty display, holding a tiny piece of material in his hands.
“Go ask if he needs help,” one of the slack-jawed girls whispered to
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