A Kiss Of Shadows   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

Doyle had said he'd try to find a middle ground, and he was already working on it. How terribly prompt of him.



Chapter 26

THE STONE ROAD ENDED ABRUPTLY IN THE GRASS. THE ROAD, LIKE THE paths, stops short of any mound. We stood at the end of the road and there was nothing but grass beyond. Grass trampled down by many feet, but trampled down evenly so that no one way was more traveled than any other. One of our old nicknames is "the hidden ones." We may be a tourist attraction now, but old habits die hard.

Sometimes fey-watchers will camp outside the area, using binoculars, and see nothing for days, nights. If anyone was watching in the chill dark, they were about to see "something."

I didn't try to find the doorway. Doyle would get us inside without any effort from me. The door rotated on some schedule of its own, or perhaps the queen's schedule. Whatever caused it to move, sometimes the door faced the road and sometimes it did not. As a teenager, if I wanted to sneak out at night and come home late, I could only hope that the door hadn't moved while I was out. The small magic needed to search for the opening would alert the guards within, and the jig, as they say, would be up. I'd thought more than once as a teenager that that damned door moved on purpose.

Doyle led me out onto the grass. My heels sank in the soft earth, and I was forced to walk almost tiptoe to keep the heels free of dirt. The gun in its ankle holster made it a very awkward way to walk. I was glad I hadn't chosen higher heels.

As Doyle led me away from the avenue and the ghostly lights, the darkness seemed thicker than it had before. The lights had been dim, but any light gives the darkness weight and substance. I clung a little harder to Doyle's arm as we left the light behind us and walked into the star-filled dark.

Doyle must have noticed because he offered, "Do you wish a light?"

"I can conjure my own will-o'-the-wisp, thank you very much. My eyes will adjust in a minute."

He shrugged, and I could feel the movement as his arm raised in my grasp. "As you like." His voice had fallen into its usual neutral tone. Either he was having trouble finding a middle ground for his voice, or it was simply habit. I was betting the latter.

By the time Doyle stopped halfway around the mound, my eyes had adjusted to the dim, cold light of stars, and the rising moon.

Doyle stared at the earth. His magic gave a small warm breath along my body as he concentrated on the mound. I stared up at the grass-covered earth.