Demon Revealed (High Demon #2)(44)
Author: Connie Suttle

Ry, if you’d thrown ice water in my face, I might have wakened more slowly. Lendill was now sitting straight up in bed.

Yeah—it got our attention too. I think Reah is catatonic, right now.

Do you have any names?

Not yet, Lendill, but we’ll send information if we get it.

Ry—do your best, you and Tory—make sure Reah isn’t too scared to speak. Aurelius said she was crying, she was so scared when he talked to her. That isn’t what I meant to happen.

Lendill, what were you doing when you were nineteen?

Raising hell in school—why?

Reah wasn’t prepared for this. She worked in a kitchen all her life until now. And just because she managed to kill off a few spawn on Mandil, you put her in the middle of this. Tory complains about it every day. At least that man she married isn’t bad—he seems to care about her. If he didn’t, I don’t think he’d live long after this is over. Ry wasn’t mincing words with the Vice-Director.

I know. Look, I’ll try to make it up to her, somehow. Just—do your best to smooth things over, all right?

I’ll do what I can, but Grampa Wylend already asked me to look out for her. You don’t turn down Grampa Wylend.

I would imagine not. Lendill’s sending was dry. He didn’t think too many people managed to defy a request from the King of Karathia. Ry cut off the communication and Lendill, now wide-awake, stood up and went to turn the light on over his desk. He’d received a message from his father three days earlier. He hadn’t heard from Kaldill Schaff in years. Wondering why he was getting a message now, Lendill punched in the private code to contact his only living parent.

Kaldill stood in his kitchen on Wyyld. Not long ago he’d learned to bake bread. He enjoyed it now—getting out of bed early to set the dough to rise. He hadn’t needed much sleep in a long while. If Lendill hoped to wake him, he’d failed. Kaldill smiled brightly as his son’s face appeared on the comp-vid screen. "Lendill, you finally choose to return my call?"

"Father." Lendill nodded respectfully.

"I suppose you want to know what I want?" Kaldill was still smiling.

"Yes, father, that’s why I contacted you." Lendill knew not to trust the smile; Kaldill could have the worst news and would still be smiling at his son.

"Ah, well," Kaldill employed power to settled the comp-vid on the wall before his face so he could keep working and still speak with his son.

"Well, what?" Lendill had never had the patience the others of his race did. He was only half-elven, after all. He’d wondered through the years just what it was that convinced his father to have a child with a humanoid. Lendill looked human, but his father had pronounced him immortal the moment he was born. Another of Kaldill’s talents, Lendill now knew. Lendill would have died long ago if he hadn’t been immortal. He just didn’t get any other gifts from his father’s race. Lissa, who was very powerful, had given him mindspeech. He still hadn’t told Kaldill about that, else his father would be contacting him in that way—quite often, more than likely.

"I know you are attracted to someone; I saw it while I was working not long ago," Kaldill pounded dough onto the smooth, floured surface of his wood countertop.

"So? I have been attracted to several, over the years."

"Not like this."

"I still don’t understand why you contacted me about it." Lendill was feeling grumpy with his father, who treated all matters as if they might be trivial. As a general rule, anyway.

"I contacted you because, in the words of some of your mother’s race—I still love her, even though she is gone from me—you are f**king this up." Kaldill’s cursing was legendary among his race, but he seldom used Alliance Common during profanity-laced outbursts.

It was early and Lendill had a difficult time following Kaldill’s convoluted speech for a moment. "You’re saying I’m f**king this up? Father, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you use that humanoid term before."

"It exists; therefore I will use it if it applies. It does not alter the fact that you may be ruining any chance you might have with the woman who is your breath, your heart and your soul."

Lendill’s eyes widened. Breah-mul, Cheah-mul and Deah-mul were popular phrases on Wyyld. Few knew that those words were Elvish in origin. Many Elf words permeated the native language of Wyyld. "You can’t know she is those things," Lendill scoffed, although he felt worried. His father was seldom wrong about these things. Actually, his father had never been wrong about these things.

"You are f**king this up," Kaldill repeated, shaking a flour-coated finger at Lendill. "Make it right or make your peace with being alone for the rest of your life."

"Father, what are you doing?" Lendill directed the conversation away from himself.

"Making bread. It is my new hobby. I like it. Go back to bed." Kaldill punched the button on the comp-vid, terminating the call.

Lendill cursed. One never won an argument with Kaldill Schaff. Kaldill was right all the time and he knew it.

Chapter 11

Grish had a battalion of cooks, kitchen helpers and medical assistants, all busier than ants when something attacks their nest. It made sense—Grish being in as poor health as he was. We’d been awakened by servants—Ry and Tory had spent the night in my suite but in an adjoining bedroom. Grish’s plantation palace was quite large, but my suite was one of the smaller ones. The reptanoids were quartered nearby—Farzi, Nenzi and two others slept in Farzi’s suite, the rest of them inside a second suite. My suite was squeezed between both. I would have welcomed Tory in my bed the night before, I think—I felt cold, although the air was warm on that portion of Zephili. Sleep hadn’t come easily, either.

Ry says there aren’t any cameras; I’ll be there tonight, baby. Tory was sending mindspeech as we sat down at a huge table, waiting for breakfast. Breakfast was almost intolerable—the food was bland and unseasoned, likely prepared so Grish could digest it. He hadn’t made any accommodations for his guests—we all received the same meal he was having. At least the juice was good—freshly squeezed. The citrus must have been grown on Grish’s plantations. We appeared to be near the equator again, just as we’d been on Urdolus. Grish didn’t feed himself, either, he depended upon the monkey-like creature to lift the spoon and drop mushy food in his mouth. Much of it dribbled down his chin. An assistant stood by to wipe Grish’s face regularly with a napkin. I’d seen Grish move his hands and arms to gesture while he spoke, so I failed to understand why he refused to feed himself.

I didn’t want to watch Grish eat lunch later, so I asked for a sandwich and went outside on Grish’s patio. He had a beautiful pool, but I had my doubts that he ever used it. Plenty of comfortable chairs were set beneath umbrellas, with small tables sitting nearby. Farzi, Nenzi and the others came out to join Ry, Tory and me.