“That dagger you had. Where did it come from?”
“Dagger? You mean the one from the ritual?”
“Yes.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I’ll show you.” I bring forth my trusty dagger from Nagyvárad and slice it across my palm. Nothing. I throw it on the desk and point out to my sides, waving my fingers about. “Nothing in the armory hurts me. That isn’t in my armory and it hurts me. Where did you get it from?” I ask again. He ponders the question for a moment, picking up the dagger and examining it. “Nice,” he says to himself. “Explain this to me,” he points to my sides and waves his fingers about as I did.
“Every weapon ever created.”
“Every weapon?” he says in wonder.
“Every one created.”
“I knew you had access to Gladius Infernus, but I didn’t realize it was all of them. Impressive.” His eyes glint as he takes in the possibilities and I see for the first time a sliver of his Demonic side. He sees me noticing and he covers it up quickly.
“So how is it, I don’t have access to that one?” I ask again.
I can see him debating whether to tell me or not, his desire to win me over with honesty beating out the desire to keep it a secret.
“It hasn’t yet been created,” he says. “At least not here.”
Gee, cryptic much?
“I need a bit more than that,” I say, crossing my arms.
He also crosses his arms, mimicking my gesture. “The Dragon Realms are not of this world. Not even part of this…” he waves his hand about, “network of Realms, which we all come from. The Underworld, Earthside, the Spirit Plane are all connected.” He pauses and I am thinking, Spirit Plane? like some kind of idiot. “The Dragon Realms are far beyond any of this. The dagger I pulled on comes from there. As time moves so differently there and its plane of existence is fundamentally different, as far as your armory is concerned it doesn’t exist. So, therefor
e, no weapon from there exists,” he explains.
Interesting. Makes sense, I guess.
“So, that would lead me to believe that the armory, and the Power behind it, is what protects me from harm from the weapons in it,” I deduce quite nicely, if I do say so myself.
“I would say that is a strong possibility,” Xane agrees.
Huh. It also goes some way to explaining why fangs and claws work on me. As they are very much weapons in their own right, they aren’t weapons that have been created and are obviously not in the armory. Well, I’ll be. I am finally learning useful stuff. Maybe I should pursue something with Xane. He seems to know a lot about all of this and helps me draw conclusions that I would never have come up with on my own.
“I told you we would be exceptional together,” he whispers as my face must give my thoughts away. “I will leave you to think it over now that you see the possibilities of what we could be.”
He Astraports out, leaving me alone and confused.
Glancing at the clock, I see it is now 8 AM. I haven’t sensed Devon yet, so I go off in search of him. Them, I think, unpleasantly.
I don’t find them downstairs, so head up to his room. Pushing the door open, I find that it’s empty and the bed not been slept in. Hm, must have taken my advice then. Makes me chuckle though to think he didn’t want to bring her to his bedroom.
I knock on the door next to his. No response. I use my Vampire hearing to listen, ignoring the voice in my head that yells, “Eavesdropper!” I hear breathing so at least they are both still alive. I push the door open – it is my house, after all – and discover them both fast asleep. Fully clothed to my relief, but entwined around each other, her head on his chest and their fingers laced together. She looks at peace. Good. This will go far in her efforts to control herself. Devon senses my presence and opens his eyes. He sees me watching them in the gloom of the heavy drapes, drawn tightly to protect her, and he grimaces. Obviously not best pleased to be found this way. I wonder why that is? He untangles himself carefully so as not to disturb her.
“Hey,” he says softly
“Hey,” I say. “I was concerned. It’s late.”
He looks at the clock. “Yeah, we only got to sleep late.” I nod knowingly and he snaps, “We were just talking.” Why he feels the need to defend his actions is beyond me. I hold my hands up in defense and he sighs. “Sorry. I am still trying to get used to this.”
“No need to apologize. I know what you are going through.”
“Can you take over for a bit? I need a break,” he says.