Heir to the Shadows (21 page)

Jaenelle stepped back. "Race you home," she said, and vanished.

Saetan hesitated. He took a long look at the meadow with its wildflowers and the mountains in the distance.

He would give it a little while longer before he began searching for Daemon Sadi.

2 / Kaeleer

Greer crept behind the row of junipers that bordered one side of the lawn behind SaDiablo Hall. The sun was almost up. If he didn't get to the south tower before the gardeners began scurrying about, he'd have to hide in the woods again. He might be demon-dead now, but he'd spent his life in cities. The rustling quiet and blanket dark of a country night unnerved him, and despite not being able to sense another presence, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched. And then there was that damned howling that seemed to sing the night awake.

He couldn't believe someone like the High Lord didn't have guard spells around the Hall. How else could a place this size be protected? But the Dark Priestess had assured him that Saetan had always been too lax and arrogant to consider such things. Besides, the south tower had always been Hekatah's domain, and with each of her many renovations, she'd added secret stairways and false walls so that there were entire rooms tucked away that her own spells still kept carefully hidden. One of those rooms would keep him sheltered and shielded.

Provided he could reach it.

Slipping his hands into his coat pockets, Greer left the junipers' protection and walked purposefully toward the south tower. That was one of the rules of a good assassin: act as if you belong. If he was seen, he hoped he'd be dismissed as a tradesman or, better yet, a guest.

When he finally reached the door in the south tower, he began walking slowly to the left, his left hand feeling the stones for the catch that would open the secret entrance. Unfortunately, it had been so long, Hekatah couldn't remember exactly how far the entrance was from the door, especially since she'd made sure the alterations at the Kaeleer Hall didn't match the ones she'd made in Terreille.

Just when he thought he'd have to return to the door and start over, he found the chipped stone that held the hidden latch. A moment later, he was inside the tower, climbing a narrow stone stairway.

Shortly after that, he discovered just how far the Dark Priestess had misled him—or had misled herself.

There were no luxuriously furnished apartments in the south tower, no ornate beds, no elegant daybeds, no rugs, no drapes, no tables, no chairs. Room after room was empty and swept clean.

Greer put his left hand over the black silk scarf around his throat and pushed down the panic.

Swept clean and empty. Just like the secret staircase, which should have been thick with dust and cobwebs.

Which meant it wasn't as much of a secret as Hekatah thought.

He tried to tell himself it didn't matter since he was already dead, but he'd been in the Dark Realm long enough to have heard stories about what happened to demons who crossed the High Lord, and he didn't want to find out firsthand how much truth there was in those stories.

He returned to the chamber that had once belonged to Hekatah and began a systematic search for the hidden rooms.

They, too, were empty and clean. Either her spells had broken down over time or someone else had broken them.

There had to be somewhere he could hide! The sun was too high now, and even with the quantity of fresh blood he'd been consuming, the daylight weakened him, drained him. If all the rooms had been found . . .

At last he found a hidden room within a hidden room. More of a cubbyhole, really. Greer couldn't imagine what it had been used for, but it was disgustingly grimy and cobwebbed, and therefore safe.

With his back pressed into a corner, Greer wrapped his arms around his knees and began to wait.

3 / Kaeleer

Andulvar rapped sharply on the study door and walked in before getting a response. Swinging toward the back of the room, he stopped as Saetan quickly—and rather guiltily— hid the book he'd been reading.

Hell's fire, Andulvar thought as he settled into the chair facing the desk, when was the last time Saetan looked that relaxed? There he was, the High Lord of Hell, with his feet on the desk, wearing house slippers and a black sweater. Seeing him like that, Andulvar regretted that the days were long past when they could have gone to a tavern and wrangled over a couple of pitchers of ale.

Amused by Saetan's discomfort, Andulvar said, "Beale told me you were in here—taking care of correspondence, I believe he said."

"Ah, yes, the worthy Beale."

"Not many houses can claim a Red-Jeweled Warlord for a butler."

"Not many would want to," Saetan muttered, dropping his feet to the floor. "Yarbarah?"

"Please." Andulvar waited until Saetan poured and warmed the blood wine. "Since you're not doing correspondence, what are you doing? Besides hiding from your intimidating staff?"

"Reading," Saetan replied a bit stiffly.

Always the patient hunter, Andulvar waited. And waited. "Reading what?" he finally asked. His eyes narrowed. Was Saetan blushing?

"A novel." Saetan cleared his throat. "A rather . . . actually, a very erotic novel."

"Reminiscing?" Andulvar asked blandly.

Saetan growled. "Trying to anticipate. Adolescent girls ask the most terrifying questions."

"Better you than me."

"Coward."

"No argument there," Andulvar said, refusing to rise to the bait. Then he paused. "How are things going?"

"Why ask me?" Saetan propped his feet on the corner of the desk.

"You're the High Lord."

Saetan put a hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. "Ah, someone who remembers." He sipped the yarbarah. "Actually, if you want to know how things are going, you should ask Beale or Helene or Mrs. Beale. They're the triangle who run the Hall."

"A Blood triangle always has a fourth side."

"Yes, and whenever something comes up that requires 'Authority,' they prop me up, dust me off, and plunk me in the great hall to deal with it." Saetan's warm smile lit his golden eyes. "My chief functions are to be the Lady's loyal guardian and, since Beale would never deign to have his attire ruined by hysterics, to be a shoulder to cry on when Jaenelle throws her tutors off their stride— which seems to be averaging out to three or four times a week."

"The waifs doing all right then."

Saetan's smile vanished, replaced by a bleak, haunted expression. "No, she's not doing all right. Damn it, Andulvar, I'd hoped . . . She's trying so very, very hard. She's still Jaenelle. Still inquisitive and gentle and kind." He sighed. "But she's unable to respond to the overtures of friendship from the staff. Oh, I know."

He waved a hand, dismissing an unspoken protest. "The relationship of servants to the Lady of the house is what it is. But it's not just them. Between that business with Menzar and the friction that exists between her and the rest of Luthvian's students, she's become timid. She avoids people whenever she can. Sylvia hasn't been able to coax her into another shopping trip, and that Lady has tried. She and her son, Beron, called a few days ago. Jaenelle managed to talk with them for about five minutes before bolting from the room.

"She has no friends, Andulvar. No one to laugh with, no one to do silly girl things with. She hasn't made the Offering yet, and she's already too aware of the gulf between herself and the rest of the Blood."

Saetan slumped in his chair. "If only there was some way to get her to resume her life again."

"Why don't you invite that little ice harpy from Glacia to visit?" Andulvar said.

"Do you think she would be brave enough to come to the Hall?"

Andulvar snorted. "Considering the letter she wrote you, if you let that one through the door, she'll probably be stepping on your toes."

Saetan smiled wistfully. "I hope so, Andulvar. I do hope so."

Regretting that the easy mood would change, Andulvar drained his glass and set it carefully on the desk.

"It's time you told me why you wanted me to come back to the Hall."

"Tarl was the one who suggested you might be able to help," Saetan said as he and Andulvar made their way to one of the walled gardens.

"I'm a hunter and a warrior, not a gardener, SaDiablo," Andulvar said gruffly. "How am I supposed to help him?"

"A large dog has staked out a territory in the north woods. I first heard it the night Sylvia told me there was something wrong in Halaway. It's killed a couple of young deer, but outside of that, the foresters haven't been able to find a trace of it. A few nights ago, it helped itself to a couple of chickens."

"Your foresters should be able to handle it."

Saetan opened the wooden gate that led into the low-walled garden. "Tarl found something else this morning." He nodded to the head gardener, who was standing near the back flower bed.

Tarl brushed his fingers against the brim of his cap and left.

Saetan pointed to the soft earth between two young plants. "That."

Andulvar stared at the clear, deep paw print for a long time before kneeling down and placing his hand beside it. "Damn, it's big."

Saetan knelt beside Andulvar. "That's what I thought, but this is your expertise. What really bothers me is it seems so deliberate, so carefully placed, as if it's a message or a signal of some kind."

"And who's supposed to be getting this message?" Andulvar rumbled. "Who would be expected to come in here and see it?"

"Since Lord Menzar's abrupt departure, Mephis has quietly checked everyone who serves the Hall, inside staff and out. He didn't find anything that would make me believe they can't be trusted."

Andulvar frowned thoughtfully at the print. "Could be a lover's signal for a secret tryst in the garden."

"Trust me, Andulvar," Saetan said dryly, "there are simpler and more effective ways of setting up a romantic adventure than this." He pointed to the paw print. "Besides, short of removing the dog's foot, how would anyone find the brute, bring it here, and convince it to leave one print in this exact spot?"

"I'm going to look around," Andulvar said abruptly.

While Andulvar studied the rest of the walled gardens in the waning daylight, Saetan studied the print.

He'd managed to push aside the nagging worry until Andulvar had arrived, almost hoping the Eyrien would look at the print and shrug it off with an easy explanation. Now Andulvar was worried, and Saetan didn't like it.
Was
someone trying to set up a meeting? Or just lure someone away from the Hall?

Snarling softly, Saetan brushed dirt across the print until there was no trace of it. He got to his feet, brushed the dirt from his knees, glanced at the flower bed, and froze.

The paw print was as deep and as clear as it had been a minute ago.

"Andulvar!" Saetan dropped to his knees and smoothed dirt across the print again.

Andulvar rushed in, the air from his wings stirring the young plants, and knelt beside Saetan.

They watched in silence while the dirt rolled away from the print.

Andulvar swore viciously. "It's been spelled."

"Yes," Saetan said too softly. He used the equivalent strength of a White Jewel to obliterate the print again. When it came back just as quickly, he went to the Yellow, the next level of descent. Then he tried Tiger Eye, Rose, and Summer-sky. Finally, at the strength of the Purple Dusk Jewel, the print was barely discernible.

With a vicious swipe of his hand, Saetan used the strength of his Birthright Red to eliminate the print.

It didn't return.

"Someone wanted to be very sure this print wasn't carelessly erased," Saetan said, wiping his hand on the grass.

Andulvar rubbed his fist against his chin. "Keep the waif from wandering around by herself, even in these gardens. Prothvar and I aren't much help in the daylight, but we'll keep watch at night."

"You think someone's foolish enough to penetrate the Hall?"

"Looks like someone already has. That's not what's bothering me." Andulvar pointed to the now-smooth dirt. "That's not a dog, SaDiablo. It's a wolf. It's hard to believe a wolf would choose to get this close to humans, but even if it's being controlled by someone, what's the point of bringing it here?"

"Bait," Saetan said, immediately sending out a psychic call to Jaenelle. Her distracted acknowledgment reassured him that she was sufficiently engrossed in her studies to remain indoors.

"Bait for what?"

Instead of answering, Saetan made a sweeping probe of the Hall and the surrounding land. There was that muzziness in the south tower, the fading effects of the shielding spells Helene and Beale had broken as they cleared out the tower and uncovered Hekatah's secret rooms. There was also that odd ripple in the north woods.

Saetan probed a little longer and then stopped. Getting into the Hall had never been difficult. Getting out was another matter.

"Bait for what, SaDiablo?" Andulvar asked again.

"For a young girl who's lonely and loves animals."

4 / Kaeleer

Greer huddled in a corner of the secret cubbyhole, whimpering as that dark mind rolled through the very stones, probing, searching.

He struggled to keep his mind carefully blank as the surge of dark power washed over him. He couldn't safely bolt before sunset, but if he were caught here, how would he explain his presence? Having lost one little darling, Greer doubted any explanation would appease the High Lord right now.

When the psychic probe faded, Greer stretched out his legs and sighed. As much as he feared the High Lord, he didn't relish going back to Hekatah without any information. She would insist he try again.

It would have to be tonight. He would find the girl's room, look her over, and return to Hell. If Hekatah wanted to get any closer and risk coming face-to-face with Saetan, she could do it herself.

5 / Kaeleer

Saetan headed for his suite, hoping a little rest would bring inspiration. Earlier that evening, he'd tried to convince Jaenelle to contact some of her friends. He'd failed miserably and, in the process, had learned a lot about an adolescent witch's emotional volatility.