“This is so neat.” Colby dug her feet into my scalp. “And creepy.”
“Here’s a handy-dandy map.” Clay took a folding brochure from a display sheltered by the sloping roof. “They ask for a donation of five dollars per person.” He took cash from his pocket. “Looks like…” He squinted. “Okay, I don’t see where to put the money, so I’m going to shove it through the mail slot and call us paid.”
Curious about this place, what value it held for my mother, I took one too. A quick scan told me the thin paper held no answers. It was a generic pamphlet, not a cipher to decode the mysteries of the universe. Still, I folded it carefully and tucked it into my back pocket.
Flames licked across my periphery as Asa exchanged one form for another.
“Rue.” The daemon trotted over to me. “Hi.”
“Hi yourself, big guy.” I gestured toward the sanctuary. “Smell anything?”
Nose wrinkling, he breathed in deep. “Water, moss, birds, alligators, fish—”
“Anything magical?” I rested my hand on his arm. “Anything unusual?”
“Maybe.” He passed me a hank of his hair. “Pet.”
Oh, yeah.
He was getting the hang of blackmail all right.
“Let’s go for a walk.” I clicked my tongue then snapped his hair. “Giddyap.”
“You want ride?” His eyes brightened. “On back?”
“Uh, no.” I backed away as far as I could without letting go altogether. “I don’t want to poke an eye out.”
The daemon touched the tip of one horn, and a frown dragged down his mouth.
I felt like the worst kind of jerk for putting that look on his face, and I rushed to make it up to him.
“All the trees.” I gestured overhead to the heavy limbs, draped in curling Spanish moss. “The limbs look pointy.”
When my meaning hit him, he grinned until his canines flashed. “Rue like my horns.”
“I do like your horns.” I shoved him. “Now, let’s get to work.”
Before I thought too much about how good Asa looked wearing them.
Clay let us take the lead, and Colby flattened herself against my head. I was only half kidding about the limbs and moss, and I didn’t want her to damage a wing. The daemon, as long as I kept raking my fingers through his hair, honed his focus on the hunt. We came to a fork in the boardwalk, and he pointed right.
“Smell magic.” He filled his lungs. “Daemon magic.”
“Surprise, surprise.” I gazed out into the murky water. “Anyone you recognize?”
Say, Delma, who had either taken my warning to heart about staying out of Samford or had lured us out to the middle of nowhere to monolog us to death. Me? I was leaning toward door number two.
“No.” He planted his palm on the railing. “I find out.”
Fist tightening on his hair like that would hold him, I gasped when it ripped from my fingers.
His beautiful hair.
He landed with a loud splash that would attract predators and stayed under.
“What is he doing?” Clay rushed up to me then yelled at nothing, “Ace, have you lost your mind?”
The daemon’s head broke the surface, and he swam to an open space about the width of Tadpole Swim. He treaded water, spinning a slow circle, nostrils flaring, then dove again.