Blood of the Sorceress. Maggie Shayne
shook himself as if she’d hit him between the eyes with a mallet.
“I think it might be a good idea if I go with you to see him,” Lilia said. “Chances are he’s still a part of this. Possibly being manipulated by unseen forces, even now.”
He nodded. “I’ll call the hospital, make the arrangements. We can go first thing in the morning.”
They all continued clearing until the table was bare and gleaming, and the dishwasher was chugging softly. As everyone but Tomas gathered in the living room, sitting comfortably around the fireplace, Selma brought around coffee and dessert, eventually taking a seat herself. Tomas had gone off to make his phone call, and now he returned. He looked pensive.
“What’s up, babe?” Indy asked, reading his face.
He met her eyes, frowning and shaking his head. “Father Dom. He’s … gone.”
“He died?” Indy whispered.
Tomas blinked out of his state and focused on his wife. “No, no, he’s not dead. He’s gone. He got up and walked out of the hospital. They tried to stop him, they couldn’t even believe he was strong enough, but …” His frown deepened. “What the hell is he thinking?”
Gus pushed Demetrius’s wheelchair through the hospital corridors toward the exit, because that was hospital policy. Demetrius didn’t think much of it, but Gus was having a ball, so he put up with it. Besides, he’d already upset the staff by checking himself out before they’d deemed him healed. He, however, knew that he was.
Gus was brimming over with childlike excitement. “Wait till you see our ride, boss. We’re finally getting what we deserve outta this life, let me tell you that.”
The automatic doors opened at their approach. Demetrius was looking behind him to ask Gus what he was talking about, but then he turned and saw the gleaming black stretch limo through the open doors, and blinked. “Are you kidding me?”
There was a man in a chauffeur’s cap standing beside the car, holding a passenger door open. He was young, a green-eyed redhead with a friendly smile and a smattering of freckles across his nose and spilling onto his cheeks. “Mr. Demetrius, Mr. Gus,” he said with a friendly nod. “I’m Sid, I’m your driver.”
Demetrius got out of the wheelchair and shook the kid’s hand. “Sid. And, um, where exactly will you be driving us?”
“To the airport, sir. Mr. Nelson’s private jet is waiting to take you to his—that is, to your new home.” He beamed.
“A private jet,” Demetrius repeated, because the words were not making sense in his brain quite yet.
“He said nothing but the best for you, Mr. Demetrius. And I’m assigned to you for as long as you need me.”
“Assigned to me?”
Sid gave a shrug and a smile. “Your right-hand man.”
“I’m his right-hand man.” Gus’s tone was unfriendly.
Sid laughed. “Don’t be silly, Mr. Gus. I’m the employee. You’re the boss.”
“I’m the boss?”
“Well, one of them, anyway.”
Gus looked at Demetrius and then back at Sid again, smiling this time. “Well, let’s get this show on the road, then.”
“Yes, sir!”
Gus climbed into the back of the limo and made himself comfortable. Demetrius got in beside him, wondering if he’d hit his head during the accident and was dreaming all of this.
But he didn’t wake up, and everything seemed to flow in logical order, so he didn’t think so. Within an hour they were flying through the skies in an airplane, Sid in the passenger cabin along with them.
“Do you need anything to make you more comfortable?” Sid asked. “It’s going to be hours before we land.”
“Is there any food on this bird?” Gus asked. “’Cause I’m so hungry I could—”
“I’d like to get this cast off, Sid,” Demetrius interrupted. “Is there anything I could use to cut it?”
Sid looked a little alarmed. “But it’s only been a few days since your accident.”
“I know, but …” He shot a quick look at Gus, seeing the same kind of worry in his eyes. “The doctor was being overly cautious. Nothing was actually broken.”
“It most certainly was,” Gus said. “Your arm was broke in three places. I was there when the doc showed you the X-rays.”
“He misread them, Gus. My arm is fine.” And it was. It had been since about twenty-four hours after the accident. He’d felt the bones knitting and known that he was healed. Every other injury had vanished, too. Where he had been scraped and cut, he now had smooth tanned skin without a mark on it. Where he’d been bruised, there was nothing. His pain was gone. He thought he might be immortal. At the very least, he had supernatural powers. He healed in a single day. He had a cup and a knife that could make his wishes come true, and he had a blonde from some other realm stalking him. He didn’t know what had existed before the void. But he was sure there had been something, and he was suddenly very curious to know what. And whether it would explain his current abilities.
In the meantime, he intended to enjoy everything life had to offer.
Sid brought him a steak knife, and he proceeded to divest himself of the cast. He made a mess of it, scattering white dust and fragments all over the carpeted floor, but Sid assured him he needn’t worry about it. When his arm was free, though dust-coated, he turned it, bent it, moved his wrist and elbow. “That’s better,” he said.
Sid and Gus looked at him as if he’d just walked on water. But he pretended not to notice, put his seat back and closed his eyes.
He didn’t wake until they landed, and as he leaned forward to look out the tiny window beside his seat he saw a barren wasteland.
“Where are we?”
“Arizona,” Gus said. “Don’t worry. It gets much more colorful where we’re going. You just relax, the journey’s almost over.”
He’d certainly traveled far, Demetrius thought. Perhaps too far for the blonde woman to track him down again. He hoped so.
Then why did something inside him ache at the thought? He didn’t even know her.
Soon he was in the back of another limo, with Sid driving once again, and two hours after that, give or take, they were winding through fascinating scenery. Sid and Gus were oohing and ahhing and pointing as they passed towering rock formations of rust red, fronted by acres of desert. Demetrius thought the colors were interesting. Different, certainly, but hardly worthy of all the fuss they were making. They were just rocks, after all.
They drove through Sedona, heading north, then turned onto a side road. To the left were more of those massive red rocks. To the right, a sprawling, gated mansion where he figured some celebrity must live.
“Well? What do you think?” Gus asked.
“What do I think about what?” Then he realized the limo was turning toward the closed wrought-iron gate, which opened to allow it to move slowly through. The gate, he noted at last, bore two entwined N’s.
Beyond the tall gate lay paradise. There was no other word for it. Dead ahead, at the end of the wide paved drive, was a four-car garage with a rooftop patio protected by ornate rails, and with tall glittering fabric “sails” to provide shade. The house that rose above the garage was like a small red stone palace. It had a circular painted third story and even an observatory atop that. He noticed that the driveway continued past the garage, curving up a small hill and circling a huge fountain where a trio of topless mermaids poured water from their cupped hands into a pool. Beyond the fountain was the front door.
“Ned