Cecil sashayed back to the wet bar and picked up the cocktail shaker, muttering under his breath. I caught a handful of words, mostly swear words.
I laughed. “Do you think I look pretty, Cress?” There was nothing more satisfying than having a lovely young person tell you that you looked nice. Normally, young adults enjoyed nothing more than telling you that you look old, dried up, and crusty.
“You look stunning.” She stared at me. A strange heat bloomed in her eyes, and suddenly, I felt a little awkward.
“Thanks.”
The heat disappeared, and she arched an eyebrow. “But where will you put your weapons?”
“Umm.” I patted my beautiful gown. “I don’t know. Nowhere? I’m not really a weapons kind of girl, Cress.”
“You must.” She marched over, pulling an assortment of blades and daggers out of various sheathes in her skin-tight leather vest and pants.
“Leave her alone, Cress,” Cecil poured a measure of tequila into the shaker and tossed in a shovel of ice.
“No,” she said stubbornly. “It is my duty. I amisanayrin ayawa; I must make sure she is armed.”
“Mistress of the blade,” Nate supplied helpfully.
“The company weapons expert,” Eryk added.
“Right.” I nodded thoughtfully, as Cress knelt before me. I hadn’t had a chance to figure out the dynamics of their company yet; they obviously had established roles and specialties. Donovan, the prince, was obviously in charge, and Cress, his scary warrior princess girlfriend was the second, with Eryk, the fireelemental and Nate, the battle mage, deferring to both of them.
It didn’t surprise me in the slightest that Cress was the weapons expert. I let out a little shriek as she knelt before me abruptly and slid her hands up my thigh, caressing my skin gently. “What are you?—”
“You will have to wear a sheath,” she muttered, lifting the hem of my gown and getting right in between my legs. I felt a slap of leather. A cold tingle of a buckle brushed my skin as she fastened something onto me. “There. You will have room for at least four blades on that sheath. You will have to carry your throwing knives in your purse.”
There was a crash, as Cecil slammed the shaker down on the bar. He spat out the words between clenched teeth. “She’snotputting throwing knives in her Joy Linman crystal-embellished clutch!”
The door slammed. “Cress.” Donovan’s voice was as cold as the grave. “She has no need for weapons. She will be with me.” His tone dropped even further. “Step back. Now.”
Ooh. Donovan didn’t like Cress touching other people, including women. That was interesting. No wonder he took her everywhere. Someone clearly had trust issues.
She stood up and turned to faced him. “There is banwyn excrement all over this city, Donovan,” she said, her voice just as icy. “Connor is here with at least a hundred of his vicious lower-realm minions. She will need to be armed with at least a crystal blade to repel them, since she is not in control of her own magic.”
He let out a low noise—a gruff grunt of exasperation. “Fine. One blade. Tourmaline.” He checked his watch. “And hurry. We must go now; it is almost time. I am concerned that the scribe stone may be stolen when Ahdeannowyn opens up his Domicile to his guests.”
“The professor’s place isn’t a magic manor, Donovan. It’s just a regular house.”
Cress curled her lip. “It is a Domicile.” She plucked out a small black dagger from a hidden spot at her ribs, flipped it, and handed it to me. I took it.
“Thanks.” It felt cold in my hands. “Can you fill me in on what the hell a banwyn is, so I know what to stab?”
“A demon-like creature from a realm in the Lower World,” she explained. “They are lower-vibrational, vicious beasts who feed on fear and desperation and thrive in chaos. Connor consumed their spark stone many years ago and imbibed their power. The banwyn now follow him as he offers them a chance to feast in other realms. Like this one,” she added darkly.
“What’s their power?”
“They can sense when someone is weakened, panicked, and easily overwhelmed.”
“That doesn’t seem like much of a magical power. You’d just look for the person with a sweaty brow, a fidget spinner and anti-anxiety medication in their handbag.”
“It is subtle but useful magic. A malevolent person would use it to their advantage to find people who are easy to manipulate, something that Connor already excelled at. The banwyn need the power to select their victims. They are small creatures, not physically powerful by themselves, so they need to choose their meals wisely. They swarm their victims, biting them with small, sharp teeth. They do not imbibe blood nor flesh, however. They feed on their victim’s fear and panic, and if the attack is prolonged, the victim will go insane.”
I made a face. “Yeesh. So, what do these little demons look like?”
“They look like human children.”
I looked at her. “What?”
