She nodded. Whatever was on the other side of the door would be easier to face than staying here.
They went up the stairs, Rainier leading while she guarded his and the children’s backs. The door opened with a dramatic creak—and they were back in the kitchen.
And somewhere in the house, a gong sounded.
Good. Good. One problem solved. As soon as Surreal closed the cellar door, he reengaged the illusion spell that hid the stairs.
Now they would see how well Lucivar fared in the cellar.
The ball of witchlight floated on the end of his war blade, challenging the smothering darkness.
Lucivar hated the cellar. Too dark, too damp, too closed in for a man who belonged to a winged race.
Too much of a reminder of the salt mines of Pruul.
This Jenkell bastard. This writer. How much did he know about the SaDiablo family? Was he choosing some of the things in this house because heknew they would provoke memories, or was it all just chance? Did he know enough about Eyriens to understand the difference between living within a mountain and being trapped under the ground?
Didn’t matter. There was a punch of fear that came from memories, so he let fear fuel temper. He’d gotten out of the salt mines of Pruul. He would get out of this house too.
The kitchen looked exactly the same—except for one thing.
“The bowl of peaches is gone,” Surreal said, turning slowly as she looked more carefully at the room. “Did the ‘caretaker’ remove the bowl or are we in a different room despite how this looks?”
Suddenly all four children screamed. A moment later, the smell of urine stung the air.
Rainier gave her a sheepish look as he closed a drawer. “The spiders are still here.”
Currents of air. Not fresh air, exactly, but different from the cellar. The witchlight revealed no opening, no difference in the walls. But there were those currents of air. And then…
The roar took him by surprise, had him shifting into a fighting stance.
No movement. No rushing attack. Just that warning.
“Jaal?” he called softly. “Kaelas? It’s Lucivar.”
It was possible that Jenkell had hired other Blood to hunt down a tiger or an Arcerian cat. As one of the demon-dead, either feline would be a lethal predator. Of course, either one would be just as lethal if it was dumped into the house alive. Wouldn’t even need one of the kindred if it was a live predator.
But if the cat wasn’t part of the spells in the house…
Using the air currents as a guide, he moved closer to the wall—and was rewarded by a snarl.
He’d heard it often enough to recognize that snarl and knew which cat he was dealing with. He just wasn’t sure if the snarl was meant as a greeting or a threat.
“Kaelas? It’s Lucivar.”
What was there? A passageway that had been built when the house was inhabited so that servants could move back and forth from the house to another building? Or was it just a dirt tunnel that had been dug as an escape route when the house was being made into this nightmare?
Either way, he couldn’t see Jaenelle asking one of the cats to guard a tunnel, and neither cat had been with her this morning, so neither was close enough to have reached the house this soon.
That left a shadow guarding the tunnel. Almost as deadly as the real thing. Maybe a little more so if Jaenelle made it. There was a faint hope of reasoning with the real Kaelas, since the cat knew he’d get yelled at if he attacked another male who belonged to Jaenelle. But a shadow followed a set of commands. Lucivar figured “kill” was the dominant command for anything Jaenelle had placed in the tunnel.
He was about to call again when the male rumble that was Kaelas’s psychic voice thumped against his inner barriers. Kaelas’s voice, but not Kaelas. So itwas a shadow guarding the tunnel.
"Do not eat Lucivar. Do not eat Surreal. Do not eat Rainier." The shadow Kaelas sounded grumpy about having his list of edibles restricted.
Damn shadow couldn’t eat anyone anyway. Maul and kill, yes. Eat, no.
At least, he was fairly sure a shadow couldn’t really eat someone. Then again, it wasn’t smart to make assumptions about any shadows Jaenelle made.
“The Lady told you not to eat me?”
A pause. Then, reluctantly, "Lady said do not kill you."
Hell’s fire. He would have to tell Jaenelle she was giving these shadows a little too much of the original’s personality. Unless it had been told to, a shadow shouldn’t be making that distinction.
“Have you seen Surreal?”
"Smelled her. Gone now."
“Out the tunnel?”
"No."
Not surprising. Surreal and Rainier didn’t know Jaenelle and Daemon were waiting outside, had no reason to think Jaenelle was responsible for the cat guarding the tunnel. Instead of heading out of the house, they must have headed back in.
Lucivar started to turn away, then stopped and considered that faint presence he’d sensed in the house—the little writer-mouse scurrying behind the walls, watching and listening. Then he considered that, shadow or not, it never hurt to make a large predator happy—especially if he might need to use the tunnel to get everyone out of the house.
He told the shadow cat, “If any other human tries to get out through the tunnel, you go ahead and eat him.”
As he walked away to explore another part of the cellar, the shadow Kaelas’s pleasure purred at him through the psychic thread.
Daemon circled the fence around the house, a slow prowl. Watchful. Aware.
There was no sign of anyone in the house. No movement of a curtain, no face at a window. Of course, he hadn’t seen any lights last night, and there had to have been lamps or candles burning.
So he couldn’t trust what he was—or wasn’t—seeing.
But he had to trust that when Lucivar punched through the spells and opened up a way out of the house, he would see it.
He stopped over the spot where the tunnel was located and considered the shadow cat standing guard. Seemed a shame to waste such a magnificent predator. Maybe…
Instead of continuing his prowl, he retraced his steps and returned to the Coach.
“Mrs. Beale was very efficient,” Jaenelle said when he stepped inside. “Yuli and I have discovered more food in the chill box and pantry. We’re going to heat up some soup. Do you want some?”
He shucked off his coat and vanished it. “Yes, I want some, and I’ll heat up the soup.”
“I can heat up soup.”
“I’m sure you can.” Having made the attempt to teach her a couple of cooking basics, he wasn’t sure of that at all.