Given a couple of the limos had made their way to the curb and the rest were in the process of doing so, I suspected only the passengers had been magically blinded. Though, given the fact that everyone had made their way to the little sidewalk in front of the destroyed doors, maybe the others hadn’t been blinded for long. They’d all known exactly where to head when they (clearly) thought I was about to blow them up.
Smoke rose from one of the limos in front. I could just see another with the trunk all twisted. Someone’s luggage had probably suffered from that one.
Absolutely no one moved in the ensuing silence.
“So…” The glass crunched under my stiletto as I stepped forward, my voice echoing around the cavernous space. The late-afternoon sunlight shone through the large tunnel entrance behind me. “That was some sort of welcome, was it? Some sort of magical…howdy-do?”
“Maybe you should’ve taken some of that chocolate Ex-Lax,” Ulric said, and the pressure released. The people in red coats slowly pulled their arms away from their heads, peering over their shoulders. Limo drivers poked their heads out from around the ruined entrance, seeing if the coast was clear. Cyra’s fire swirled around her, and everyone else gave her a lot more room than she actually needed.
“Seems to me,” Mr. Tom said to Niamh, “that you failed to tell her that mages typically give a show of their power when their guests first arrive.”
“That might’ve slipped me mind, yes,” Niamh said, dusting the glass from her shoulder. “But now we know that our Jessie has more power.”
“Shh.” Mr. Tom batted at her, then looked upward and into the corners of the door. “They might have surveillance out here.”
“She’s not telling them anything they didn’t just realize.” Hollace stepped forward and looked away from us, down the long tunnel and out the small hole on the other side. “What should we do about the basajaun?”
“Did he run?” I asked in disbelief, slipping my hand through Austin’s held-out arm. I could feel the basajaun now, walking back toward us.
Mr. Tom sniffed. “Your limo driver took off running like a coward. The basajaun went after him. Apparently he didn’t like the idea of anyone getting away. Cyra, you are making black spots on the cobblestone. For a centuries-old soul, you are horribly bad at containing your magic.”
“It’s harder to control after rebirth,” Cyra said. “Doubly hard after many rebirths in a short period of time. It usually takes me a few months to level out.”
“I never thought I’d miss the dolls,” Hollace said. “Let’s hope there’s a lot of rock in this place, which won’t catch fire, or I’m going to be sprinting out of here like the basajaun. Only I won’t be trying to catch anyone.”
“Niamh didn’t tell you about the show Elliot Graves would put on either, huh?” I asked Austin quietly as everyone set to work wrestling the luggage out of the trunks with twisted metal. Thankfully, they all (loudly) blamed it on Niamh.
“She did—” Austin cut off as he walked me through the ruined glass doors and then stopped, surprise blistering through the link.
He’d clearly expected some dark series of tunnels, small spaces carved into the rock with low ceilings, rough rock walls, and uneven ground. And if not that, something other than the luxurious setup before us.
Cream walls rose to the curved ceiling, sporting a rectangular square of muted light surrounded by thick white paneling. A large gold chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling, dripping with crystals. The metal frame curled up and supported a candle with a flickering magical flame. A design of large blue flowers with darkened violet middles was painted on the walls, their deep brown stems painted close to the ceiling so the blooms hung downward, with pops of yellow birds flying or sitting within them.
“That reminds me of the flowers you got me on our first date,” I mumbled, tracing their path along the walls. “Different flowers but similar color scheme.”
In contrast to the white paneling around the glowing patch of light, dark baseboards lined the floor and the large open doorways leading away from the front room. A couple of blue velvet chairs, the same shade as the flowers on the walls, waited in front of us, pushed up against a small table as though inviting us to sit until our accommodations were ready. There were more small seating areas beyond that, situated in front of large ornate mirrors to make the room look bigger.
“Niamh did tell me he’d put on a show,” Austin said, picking our conversation back up as he guided me to the chair setup. I sat down happily enough. There was plenty of luggage outside, but I wasn’t supposed to help my people get it. This week, I would act like some sort of duchess, expecting everyone to do everything for me. I wasn’t all that put out by that.