Sheila Rambles

Please excuse Sheila from working on her novel for the next several days as she will be attending DragonCon and feels she will be more relaxed and productive if her work is considered a nice bonus instead of an obligation.  She intends to resume work on the fourth of September.  Thank you.

“He’s still there,” she said quietly. “Is he?”  Claude turned to look.  “You’d think a magician of his level would have a little more sense than that.” Delany felt that tensing in the air again, like thunderclouds building. Argentine turned and stalked away and the pressure slackened. “ There’s a good boy,” he said.  “Let’s get you back up to Mr. James’ suite, shall we?  You are still staying there, I hope.” “I am.  I was just . . . on my way back.” “We always appreciate returning guests.  Well-behaved ones, at least.  Though you’ve been remarkably troublesome without even making an effort.”

“Oh, he definitely wants you dead—with your throat cut inside of a summoning circle.  Depending on who your father really is, your blood will either bind the demon to his will or unleash it without restraint.  He seems convinced that you are his daughter, or else he is mad enough to believe that summoning an unbound demon is an acceptable risk.  Either way, it would be a catastrophe and I will have no rest until he is stopped.” “Do you ever rest?  When’s the last time you slept?” Sebastian paused to calculate.  “About two and a half years ago.”

We trade cities.  I speak to him of Venice; he speaks to me of Berlin.  There is a place near where a friend of his lives that used to be an airport.  “Hitler’s little baby,” he calls it.  It’s a public park now, he explains, where the runways are now used by skaters and people fly kites when the wind is good for it. The pride and joy of a brutal dictator is now a place where people fly kites.  A place where my friend discovered how delightful flying kites could be.  This is why I have hope in humanity.

“You have abused my hospitality no less than twice, and in ways that count double against you.  There will be no third chances.  You are no longer welcome at the Vaumont, Mister Argentine.  Get out before I seal the wards against you.  Mister Blake is a guest who understands when it is time to leave.  You would do well to follow his example.”  The man turned to Delany and extended his hand.   “Miss Riordan, I presume?  Claude Vaumont, at your service.” Delany tentatively took his hand.  He smiled and placed a light kiss upon her knuckle before leading her inside.