Tangled Webs

turned, but Daemon shifted just the little bit needed to place Jaenelle partially behind his left shoulder, still giving her a view of the boy while acting as another shield.
    He felt resigned amusement coming from Jaenelle, but no protest, no attempt to brush off that instinctive defense.
    The boy was at that awkward age of being no longer a child but not quite a youth. Between his age and the fact that he was landen, he was an unlikely threat to either of them. That didn’t make any difference.
    “The other Lady and gentleman took some of the children with them,” the boy said, sounding hopeful.
    Daemon crooked a finger and made a “come here” gesture. Better to let the boy come to them. Something shy about this one, something…
    «He’s been hurt,» Jaenelle said.
    Daemon clamped down on his temper. Coming from someone with Jaenelle’s past, “hurt” and “wounded” didn’t mean the same thing. Hell’s fire, someone coming from his past recognized the difference. «Abused physically?»
    «Not sure. But there’s a feel to such children. Like recognizes like.»
    He heard the pain under the words.
    “What’s your name?” he asked the boy.
    “Yuli.”
    “You said a Lady and gentleman went into the house? How long ago?”
    “Not long.”
    “What did they look like?” Jaenelle asked.
    “The Lady was pretty,” Yuli said. Then he lifted a hand and added hesitantly, “But I think her ears looked a little funny.”
    “Pointed?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “The gentleman,” Daemon said. “Did he have wings?”
    Yuli shook his head. “He wasn’t from Dhemlan either, ’cause he had light skin.”
    It sounded like Rainier had come with Surreal. Which meant Lucivar hadn’t arrived yet. Unless he’d come before the children had gathered to watch the house.
    “If they took some other children, why didn’t you go with them?” Daemon asked.
    He saw the flinch, felt the tremor of hurt.
    “I live at the orphans’ home,” Yuli said. “The others don’t want…” The words faded into a pained silence.
    “Well, then,” Jaenelle said, “that’s fortunate for us.”
    Her voice was like a summer breeze washing over the boy, but Daemon heard the ice underneath the warmth.
    “Someone threw a stone out the window,” Yuli said. “Just before your…” He frowned and looked across the street.
    “Coach,” Daemon said.
    “Your Coach appeared.” Yuli swung around and pointed to the lawn on the other side of the fence. “It’s over there.”
    “Once we cross that line, the spells will engage,” Jaenelle said.
    Daemon didn’t bother to argue about the “we” part of that sentence. He’d fight her into the ground before he let her cross that line and get tangled up in those spells.
    “I’ll get it!” Yuli said. The boy slammed through the gate, sending it crashing back against the fence as he sprinted to a spot in the lawn.
    Jaenelle hissed. “Power.”
    “How…?” Daemon glanced at her. Her Jewel, which usually looked like Purple Dusk with streaks of the other colors of Jewels, now glowed Rose. She was at the lightest end of her range of power.
    “There’s a hint of Blood in him,” she said. “He’s not pure landen.”
    Damn it! “Does he have enough power to trap him in those spells?”
    “Don’t know.” She paused, her attention focused on the boy.
    “No. He’s not strong enough to do Craft, so he’s not strong enough to trigger the spells.”
    Daemon held his breath anyway until the boy raced back through the gate, holding out a bundle tied with ribbons. Murmuring thanks, he took the bundle, then used Craft to put a knife-edge on his right index fingernail. As he cut the ribbons, Jaenelle created a globe of witchlight.
    «That’s not the most practical light,» Daemon said, glancing at the globe that was a swirling rainbow of colors.
    «It serves the purpose,» Jaenelle replied with a touch of tart sweetness.
    A glance at the boy, whose eyes were wide with delight. Daemon offered no other comments as he unwrapped the handkerchief and vanished it. When he held a piece of paper in one hand and a paperweight in the other, the globe changed to a soft white light.
    The three of them stared at the paperweight—and then watched the illusion spell change a dead, slightly squashed baby mouse trapped in solid glass into a creature pounding on a glass globe while squeaking for help.
    Daemon stared at the globe. There was something grotesquely fascinating about the spell, something