Free Shadowed by Demons, Book 3 of the Death Wizard Chronicles by Jim Melvin Page A

my powers and  . . . ”
    As if she already knew the story, Laylah was undeterred. “Like you said, it was accidental,” she purred, reaching for him again. “I don’t believe I’ll be harmed.”
    Torg took another step back. “ You won’t be harmed, perhaps, but half of Duccarita will end up in flames.”
    Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ve waited my entire life for this. How much longer must I be denied?”
    The wizard smiled, but it was bittersweet. “When the time and place are right, we both will know it. Do not despair, my love. Our moment will come. And as my Vasi master used to say, ‘It will be well worth the wait.’”
    FOR THE FIRST time since he could remember, Lucius was entirely alone. He scanned the room distrustfully. There was one window with a wooden shutter, closed and tightly latched. Two small beds with straw-stuffed mattresses were pressed against the side walls. In the middle of the room stood a wobbly wooden table with a pair of crooked chairs. Another of the foul-smelling oil lamps provided the only light.
    Lucius removed the Mogol war club from the belt at his waist and laid it and the uttara on one of the beds. He sat down on the other and buried his face in his hands. Though the sight of Jord being blown from the sky still tormented him, the thought of Torg and Laylah alone in the room next door tortured him even more. How could he stand it? How could he not?
    Lucius sat there for what felt like a very long time. He was startled when his door swung open without a knock. He looked up, hoping beyond hope it was Laylah come to tell him that it was all a big mistake, and that he was the one she truly loved. But instead of his queen, a feisty woman with short red hair stomped into the room bearing a basin of steaming water that looked far too heavy to carry so easily.
    “Don’t look so disappointed. I’m not that ugly.”
    “Huh?” was all Lucius could manage.
    “Ha! A man of few words. I love it. You and I might have a future together! Why waste time talking?”
    “Huh?”
    “Do you have all your wits? Ah, never mind.” She sprinted merrily out of the room and returned with towels, soap, and a change of clothing.
    “These ought to fit you real good,” she said, her dark eyes sparkling. “You are a fine figure of a man. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
    “Thank you,” Lucius muttered.
    She exploded with laughter. Then she leaned down, kissed him on the cheek, and sprang from the room, slamming the door behind her.
    Lucius sat in stunned silence, trying to digest what had so frenetically occurred.
    You are a fine figure of a man  . . .
    Lucius felt a tingling in his groin. The strange woman had somehow changed his mood from sour to sweet. He stood and removed his grimy clothes, then took a long time scrubbing himself with soap and drying himself with a towel. He put on black trousers and boots, a white shirt, and a red waistcoat. Everything fit surprisingly well.
    You are a fine figure of a man  . . .
    Now it was almost midnight, but Lucius didn’t feel like sleeping. He was starving and “thirsty,” as dear ol’ Ugga would put it. Lucius opened the door and peeked out. A ways down the hall, he could see a wavering light from a blazing hearth. Some of his companions already had found their way to the parlor, it appeared.
    The door to Torg and Laylah’s room remained closed. Lucius felt another stab of jealousy, but just then the woman reappeared and grabbed his hand.
    “Come on, slow-poke! What are you waiting for?”
    With a surprising display of strength, she dragged him down the hall toward the parlor. Ugga, Bard, Rathburt, and Elu were already there, each drinking from pewter mugs. Though all four had eyes that were red and swollen from their recent upset, they still managed to smile when he joined them, and it warmed his heart. Suddenly he realized that he loved them like brothers.
    “Come sit by the fire, Master Loo-Shus, and have something to