Page 92 of The Demon's Delight
Imogen reached for the tray. “I’ll pour.”
Ophelia laughed. “If you’re not in the mood for my whiskey, Imogen, just say so.”
Imogen chuckled as she started pouring the steaming brew into laughably tiny china cups. They were disproportionately small compared to her hands, not to mention Magnus’s. “You’ll have a roomful of unexpected overnight guests if we start drinking now. Been a tiresome ride.”
“That wouldn’t be so awful, now would it?” Ophelia asked.
“I thought you didn’t like visitors?” Lovette teased, giving the old woman a wink.
“I enjoy therightones from time to time.” She turned her attention to me again. “Now you. Let me get a good look at you.” She spun completely in her seat so she could hold my facebetween her hands. Her soft fingertips brushed some wisps of hair away from my eyes. It was a gesture so full of gentleness that tears prickled. I’d never known a grandmother, but she embodied the kind of energy I expected from such a person. Ophelia turned my head back and forth, examining it in the light. “Been a long, long time since one of your kind graced my doorstep.”
“My kind?”
“We’ll get there, my dear. Drink your tea. I’ve a table to sort.” She got down from her chair with a grumble and went over to a little alcove behind the kitchen. Under a stained-glass window was a table, and on the table was a curious assortment of items.
Lovette gave me an encouraging wink. Imogen just leaned back in her seat, eyes closed as though she were going to take a little nap. Magnus sat stiffly in his chair, looking like he could actually do with a good serving of whiskey.
Out of habit, I pulled the little horse carving from my pocket and held it in my hand, stroking the gold parts. The smooth metal under my fingers never failed to calm my nerves.
“Come over here, Hailon.”
I stood, obeying immediately. They had all impressed very firmly that Ophelia could be dangerous if disobeyed or provoked. Magnus had reinforced this sentiment, but with much more urgency, and he’d been borderline distraught that he hadn’t brought some kind of candy for her. I didn’t understand his wariness, as all I’d felt from her was kindness so far, but perhaps my gauge was off.
She stood me in front of the table of random oddities, her hands hovering and adjusting something here and there. There was a small pile of salt and a mix of crystals all spread out from one another. Herb bundles and sand. Shreds of paper.
“Hold this.” She handed me a bell. “Ring that please.”
I shook the little bell by the handle, but the clapper only made a dead clanking noise. Ophelia gazed up at me and nodded, shifting around several things on the table. She turned a chunk of amethyst upside down and traded a decent-size piece of rose quartz for a smaller one of jade and a polished round tiger’s eye. She shuffled the order of things, stepping back when everything was to her liking.
“Again?” she prompted.
I was prepared for another dullclankbut was rewarded with a vibrant clear tone.
Ophelia beamed. “Good, good.” She put her hand out. “The little carving you have, may I see it?” Reluctantly, I handed over the little horse. The ancient stone kin set the figure on the sill of the window behind the table after giving it a thorough examination and friendly pet. “Now. Let’s just…” She collected tiny amounts of sand and salt and a sliver of the jade that had broken off. She put all those in the smallest cauldron I’d ever seen, and once the candle under it was lit, added two pinches of the shredded paper. “Your hand?” I held it out to her, and she pricked the tip of my finger so quickly I barely saw her move. Two drops went into the cauldron. “Would your demon have been upset about that, do you think?” she asked cryptically.
“Sorry?”
She grinned and waved a hand. “Never mind, never mind. He’ll be sad to have missed it, I’ll bet. But it’s nice not to have to tell someone to mind their manners.”
Perplexed, I put the pad of that finger between my lips and sucked the sting away, still unsure what exactly she was talking about.
“Vassago wasn’t that bad,” Magnus chuckled. “It was Rylan who really got offended by it.”
Ophelia made some singsong sounds in her throat, clearly amused by the memory of Seir’s brothers reacting to herdrawing blood from their mates. There was an odd comfort in knowing others had come before me through this strange ceremony.
The mixture started to smoke, first a billowy cloud of gray, then the smoke turned yellowish, and a square shape took form.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, stepping back when I realized that faces were forming, like a portrait being painted in puffy smoke.
“It’s alright.” Ophelia nodded. She reached over and patted my shoulder comfortingly, the other three stone kin still rooted to the chairs in her living room.
A woman’s face took shape first. Her smile was soft, her eyes too. Her cheekbones were prominent, and there was something about her hair that seemed unusual, but I couldn’t put my finger on quite what. The man was tall, broad. He had an impressive beard and expressive eyes. He also had what appeared to be slightly pointed ears.
“Who are you?” I muttered.
The man looked shy, almost ashamed, as though he could actually see me standing in front of him, hear my question.
The woman turned his way, smiling up at him as though he’d hung the moon. He turned and pressed his forehead to hers. It was then I realized what was happening with her hair. She had tiny horn nubs on the top of her head. Then they both turned back to the front.
