I blinked and lifted my head. Trey stood with his cousin, hands on his hips as he glared at her in exasperation. I turned my head slowly to find Prince Brendon Banes looking down at me, his brow furrowed in concern.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and soothing.
I stared at him for a long moment.Why is it always the wrong person?“I—”
The world went black before I finished the sentence.
Interruption Three
The Real Present Day
A Gated Community for Evil Mages
Seeking Assistance
The pocket dimension where The Lord of Darkness, Prince of Shadows, Bringer of Terrible Evil, The Great and Powerful Cyril lived was both more secure and easier to enter than the young apprentice’s dimension. Yes, The Good Wizard had to argue with the guard at the gate, then return to the Good Wizard’s Council to file the proper paperwork to enter an evil dimension, then argue with the guard some more, then visit the Council of Evil for a day pass, then argue with the guard athirdtime simply because the guard was bored and liked arguing, but in the end, The Good Wizard did enter it, and that was the important part.
The Prince of Shadows lived in a two-story house that was a mesh between a proper manor and an evil lair. Winged grotesques guarded the corners, glowering down at all who dared approach. Bright flowers lined the drive, adding a pop of color. The flowers drifted lazily in the breeze, their sweet scent inviting people to come closer. The Good Wizard narrowed his eyes, suspecting the flowers were more dangerous than the grotesques, and walked down the exact center of the drive.
The front door was black with beautiful carved filigree that, upon closer inspection, hid a sinister sharpness of thorns and fangs and claws. It pulsed and shifted restlessly, primed to attack any intruders.
To the right of the door was a brass button. Above it, a sign warned: “Solicitors Will Be Devoured.”
The Good Wizard hesitated. He was, technically, soliciting help from the evil mage. Did that count? Then he remembered that he was a good wizard, not a common salesman. He would not cower before evil.
Still, he chose to raise his fist and knock, rather than pressing the button.
A high-pitched shriek tore through the air. The Good Wizard clamped his hands over his ears to drown it out, only to belatedly realize it was a noise ofexcitement.
“Oh, honey, they’ve finally returned!” The woman’s voice was followed by several thumps, and then the door was thrown open. She blinked in shock as she stared at their visitor. “You aren’t Rick. Or Brendon. Or Kit. Or Trey, or even Wilde, who I’m sure my husband is most excited to meet.” She looked him up and down and her lip curled in displeasure. “You’re awizard.”
“Cookie, who is—”
“Stay back, pumpkin. I’ll deal with him.” The woman stepped onto the porch, closing the door firmly behind her. “If you’ve come for him, you’re too late. He’s already retired.”
The Good Wizard’s brow furrowed. “That’s not in the records.”
“Damn your records. You come intomyhouse, and threatenmyhusband, and you will feelmywrath.” Magic shifted around her, transforming her face from a lovely woman in her early-sixties into something fiendish. Long teeth, shadows in her eyes, a wild hint of the swamp on her breath.
“Ma’am, I assure you, I am no threat to your husband. I seek his help.”
The hag disappeared and the woman returned. She batted long, dark lashes at him and said, “Oh my, why didn’t you simply start with that?”
“You didn’t give me the chance.”
She ignored him and opened the door again. “Darling, you have a customer.”
“A customer? Dewdrop, I’m not a businessman.” The man who came down the stairs was perfectly ordinary. His graying hair was mussed from running his hands through it, and his clothes were clean but rumpled from sitting behind a desk all day. Fine lines creased his face, but his back was straight, his body still strong and sure of itself.
The moment Cyril spotted The Good Wizard, his eyes narrowed in distrust. He snapped his fingers and his whole demeanor changed. His clothes, previously a mix of white and soft gray, darkened to pitch black. A black cloak to match settled around his shoulders, the hood obscuring his face. “You dare trespass—”
“Pookie,” the woman scolded. “Do you think I’d let him into our home if he meant to hurt you?”
Cyril paused, then lowered the hood. He did not change his wardrobe a second time. “Dearest, you know I value your opinion and your instincts, but he is agood wizard. They do not patronize evil, at least in the non-insulting definition.”
“I’m afraid we’ve had to make an exception,” The Good Wizard said. To add to the drama of his announcement, he pulled the prison crystal holding Brutus Arnulf out of his robes.
Cyril stared at the crystal for a moment then invited The Good Wizard inside.
