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So Shamas could work with the weather? Camille could call the lightning, and Iris and Smoky were adept at frost magic, but working with active weather systems was dangerous. Even I knew that.
But sorcerers liked to control as much as they could of the world. They had no compunctions about summoning beings to do their bidding. But right now, I didn’t care, because Shamas’s rain and hail were drenching the flames. The water must have been charmed for it to quell the magical fires so quickly.
Whatever the case, as we watched, the flames died down, and within five minutes they were extinguished and the house sat, smoldering, a third of it in ruins. But at least it wasn’t burned to the ground.
I looked at Martin. “What the hell are we going to do with him? We can’t take him home like a puppy dog.”
Menolly groaned. “Oh fuck. Maybe we could tell Wilbur he burned up in the fire and put the guy out of our misery?”
Camille cleared her throat. “As much as I’d like to de-animate Martin, we can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair. Not unless Wilbur dies. If that happens, then yes, we go ahead and put Martin to rest. But for now, until we know the truth, we owe it to Wilbur to keep his…pet…alive.”
I stared bleakly at the house. “Just what do you suggest we do with him, then? It’s not like we can chain him up outside on a leash. Can we?” A hopeful note crept into my voice. After all, I was the optimist of the group.
Smoky let out a snort. “I cannot believe you women are debating what to do with the creature. I think he should be destroyed, but I can tell you aren’t going to allow that. Therefore, it stands to reason that we need to lock him up somewhere. I suggest we store him in the safe room down at the Wayfarer.” He turned to Menolly. “What say you?”
She groaned and face-palmed. “Oh geez, do we have to? I mean, Erin’s living at Vampires Anonymous now, so it’s empty, but really, I don’t want a ghoul in my bar.”
“He won’t be able to get out,” I said, eager to have him anywhere but at our house. “He doesn’t need food or to go to the bathroom.”
“He doesn’t need food? Of course he does. Ghouls need flesh to feed on. If you think I’m cooking him a steak to keep him from taking a bite out of one of my customers…” Menolly stopped, grimacing. She looked from Smoky to me, then to Camille. “I see you have your minds made up. Fine. But I’m not taking him in my Jag. Somebody else has to take him down.”
Morio snickered. “We could put Rodney in there with him. Maybe they’d kill each other off.” Rodney was a twelve-inch-tall bone golem who could grow to life size. He could have been the love child of Rodney Dangerfield and Howard Stern…only worse.
“Oh gods, I can’t imagine that. I wish Grandmother Coyote would take him back. I suppose we should make more use of him, but I hate taking him out of the box, the little freak. I wish we could just bury him and leave him there.” Camille shuddered. She hated Rodney. So did I. So did Menolly.
“He’s supposed to obey me, but sometimes I worry that he’s on the verge of being able to break through my control.” Morio stood up and motioned to Martin. “Come on, you freakshow. Let’s get you somewhere safe until your daddy is out of the hospital.”
I stared at him, stifling a laugh. Camille rolled her eyes, and Menolly snorted. Smoky eyed Martin, frowning.
“I suggest Shade take him down to the Wayfarer. Menolly, I can take you.”
Shade swiveled around on his heel. “Me? Why me? Why not you?”
Smoky shrugged, a half grin on his face. “You are from the Netherworld. Ghouls are undead. It makes sense.” He stood back, pushing back his trench and sliding his hands into his pockets. His hair whipped around, almost dancing.
“I see.” Shade’s lip quivered, and the two dragons locked gazes. Shade was older than Smoky, but he was only half dragon, and that made a difference. After a moment he let out a little huff, then laughed. “Fine, then. I will take the ghoul.”
“Whoever takes the ghoul, fine, but if I’m going down there, we have to get moving. I need to get back before sunrise.” Menolly walked over to Smoky. He opened his trench and she slid her arm around his waist.
Shade rolled his eyes. He strode over to Martin and, without ceremony, swept Martin under one arm. Martin stiffened, stared at him, sniffed, and then went limp. What the hell? Ghouls couldn’t go comatose. They might shut down and sit still for hours until ordered to do something, but there would still be an unearthly light in their eyes. But Martin—he looked like he’d fainted.
With a laugh at our incredulity, Shade said, “I’m part Stradolan. I have many hidden talents.” And then, without another word, he vanished. Smoky followed, taking Menolly with him.
Morio grabbed Camille to him and gave her a sound kiss. “Let’s get home, wife. This weather is abominable.”
On the walk up the road to our driveway, Camille caught up to Shamas, who was walking a few yards ahead of us. She slid her arm through his and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Thank you,” I heard her say.
“For what?” Shamas inclined his head, and his arm snaked around her waist. But his hand stayed well off her butt, which was a good thing by the look on Morio’s face as he watched.
“For helping us. For putting out the fire on Wilbur’s house. Wilbur is a pain in the ass, but he’s helped us in the past. I don’t believe he betrayed us. At least…I hope he didn’t.” She hung her head.
Shamas reached down and kissed her hair. Then, with a glance over his shoulder at Morio and me, he gently disentangled himself from her, pulling back.
“It’s okay. I understand why you were angry at me. I just hope…that at some point you can forgive me and accept that I only want to help you. And…Delilah and Menolly, too. I’ve got a lot to learn, still, but I’m trying.” He touched her hand, then turned around and walked up to me.
I stared at him, still not particularly impressed. “Yes?”
