Free Demon Demon Burning Bright, Whisperings book four by Linda Welch

bones
on, no elegant tables or accent pieces. The hall was a formal
waiting room bathed in light from tall windows along the left
wall.
    A woman peeled from the others and glided
over the polished floor. She stopped in front of me and did a
little dip, a kind of curtsy. With her arms held out from her
sides, her sleeves hung from wrists to floor, the ends pooling with
her bright-yellow gown where it bunched on the pale tile. Her
straight black hair swung over her cheek as she lowered her head.
Black eyes glinted below sable lashes.
    “How may I help you, Lady?” she asked in
low, musical tones.
    I spoke through the lump lodged in my
throat. “I’m here to see the High Lord.”
    She smoothly rose, head still down. “He is
engaged with his Council. If you would care to - ”
    “Great. I know the way.” I started toward
the throng. O h shit please let me pass ! I couldn’t barrel
through a horde of demons who refused to move.
    They moved aside, opening a jagged path
which meandered across the hall to one of the staircases which wind
up the walls to the next floor.
    I went up the stairs. I’d never liked these
stairs. Imagine what looks like an inch-thick coat of perfectly
lucent wax over marble; they look as if arcane magic holds water in
place over them. I put my palm flat to the wall, but didn’t feel
secure. At the top, in the gallery, I leaned over the carved wood
railing to see demon faces staring up at me. I turned my back on
them and strode down the long hall to the Council Chamber. The bulk
of my Ruger clung to my ribs, making me feel I wasn’t completely
helpless.
    I stopped at the closed double doors to draw
a breath deep through my nose into my lungs before I slapped my
hands on the wood panels and pushed.

CHAPTER FIVE
     
     
    I stood in the Council Chamber with its
silken chocolate walls which seemed to ripple if I moved my head.
The dripping chandelier cast a mellow golden swath over the demon
councilors who regarded me with hooded eyes. Lawrence sat in a
throne-like chair on the dais at the back of the circular room. He
was taller than I remembered and his glossy chestnut hair now bore
a metallic sheen. His eyes were dark, gleaming bronze. His features
were sharper, too, with a high, proud nose and swooping brows. How
old was he now? Eight? He looked all of twelve.
    I didn’t recognize all the councilors. The
guy with black hair whose gently mounding stomach fascinated me
last time was absent; also Darja, she of the aging face, young
woman’s body and fading salmon hair. I didn’t remember the others
well, but enough to know they were not here. Only two of the
original councilors remained: Gareth, and the white-gray haired
woman. Six male Gelpha were new to me.
    The half-circular table was gone. The
councilors no longer faced Lawrence, they sat in two straight lines
running diagonally from the dais, their high-backed wingchairs
positioned so they could see most the room by turning their heads.
Each chair had a small table beside it, on which I saw long-stemmed
glasses and small dishes. The Council had gone casual.
    The arrangement bothered me. They should be
facing Lawrence, not sitting with their shoulders to him.
    “Miss Banks,” Lawrence said, voice deeper
than last time we spoke, “how nice to see you.”
    The expression in his eyes did not match the
rising lilt of his words, but I couldn’t read the steady gaze he
laid on me.
    “To what do we owe this pleasure,” Gareth
asked.
    “I’m looking for Royal.”
    Gareth lifted his glass from the table and
regarded the lilac liquid as his brows met in a perplexed frown.
“Ryel is not here. Did he say he would be?”
    Clenching my hands to fists, I shifted
uncomfortably on my feet. “I haven’t seen him nor spoken to him in
days. He up and . . . disappeared.”
    A demon with glinting gold eyes and helmet
of burnished pewter hair lopped off at his ears shifted in his
chair. “He could be anywhere. Why come to us?”
    Tension made my stomach