Blood of the Sorceress. Maggie Shayne

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СКАЧАТЬ of desert. Demetrius thought the colors were interesting. Different, certainly, but hardly worthy of all the fuss they were making. They were just rocks, after all.

      They drove through Sedona, heading north, then turned onto a side road. To the left were more of those massive red rocks. To the right, a sprawling, gated mansion where he figured some celebrity must live.

      “Well? What do you think?” Gus asked.

      “What do I think about what?” Then he realized the limo was turning toward the closed wrought-iron gate, which opened to allow it to move slowly through. The gate, he noted at last, bore two entwined N’s.

      Beyond the tall gate lay paradise. There was no other word for it. Dead ahead, at the end of the wide paved drive, was a four-car garage with a rooftop patio protected by ornate rails, and with tall glittering fabric “sails” to provide shade. The house that rose above the garage was like a small red stone palace. It had a circular painted third story and even an observatory atop that. He noticed that the driveway continued past the garage, curving up a small hill and circling a huge fountain where a trio of topless mermaids poured water from their cupped hands into a pool. Beyond the fountain was the front door.

      “Ned Nelson told me confidentially that he’s gonna have to unload most of his houses anyway,” Gus said as the gate closed behind them.

      A beautiful Latina woman was working in a flower garden. As they passed, Demetrius stared out the tinted window into her dark brown eyes, which flashed blue, and for a split second she became a platinum-haired avenging angel.

      He jerked away from the window.

      “People won’t vote for a President who seems too wealthy,” Gus went on. “He can probably keep three, maybe four, but more than that would be pushing it.”

      “So the staff …?”

      “Are paid for the next twelve months,” Sid said. “So are the taxes.”

      Gus nodded an agreement. “Ned says by then our stock in his companies should be earning us enough to maintain the place on our own. He threw in the limo, a pimped-out Jeep Wrangler and Jag. A Jag, D-man. And an expense account for incidentals. Wait, I have it here somewhere.” Gus felt around, then finally pulled a small leather ledger from an inner pocket of his designer suit jacket and handed it over.

      Demetrius opened it and looked at the dollar amount noted at the top of the first page. Then he lifted his head and blinked. “Those must be some incidentals.”

      The limo circled the mermaid fountain and stopped at the front entrance, which was just as spectacular as the rest of the place. Sid got out, came around and opened the car door.

      Demetrius stepped out and into his new life. The life he deserved. The one he’d come here for. He savored that knowledge, then turned and walked up the broad flagstone steps, passing between two pillars into a domed entryway to a pair of massive hardwood doors with dragon-head knockers. “This is living,” he said softly.

      Gus sent him a knowing look, then returned his gaze to the entrance. “It was no mistake you gettin’ hit by that car, D-dog. No mistake at all. You see that naked blonde again, you oughtta be thankin’ her.”

      A throat cleared. They both turned. Sid was standing behind them in his crisp uniform and chauffeur’s cap, with some of his carrot curls peeking out from beneath the hat.

      “What is it, Sid?” Demetrius asked.

      A small smile tugged at the corners of the younger man’s lips. “I was told to remain at your service. I’ll just park the limo and make use of one of the rooms in the staff quarters behind the garage—with your permission, sirs.”

      Demetrius looked at Gus, who shrugged.

      “How many bedrooms does this house have, Sid?” Demetrius asked.

      “I believe there are twelve, sir.”

      “That has to stop. It bothers me. Call me Demetrius, all right? And he’s Gus.”

      “All right. Demetrius.” Sid looked as if he was battling a smile.

      “I know. It’s a mouthful. So, Sid, you say we have twelve bedrooms. And how many staff members live here?”

      “I’d have to find out.”

      “Still, I don’t see why you should take a room in the garage.”

      “It’s fine, really, sir—Demetrius, sir. The staff quarters are nice.”

      “Still—”

      “I’ve stayed there before. I really like it.”

      “All right, then, if that’s the way you want it.”

      “It is, sir.” He looked as if he was about to correct himself, then decided not to. “Will there be anything else?”

      Demetrius glanced at the front doors. “No, I guess not.” But for some reason he couldn’t seem to make himself open them.

      Sid looked at the two of them for a long moment, then nodded. “Maybe I should give you the grand tour of the place, show you everything you might need to know, introduce you to the staff.”

      Demetrius sighed in abject relief, only realizing what he was doing when it was too late to prevent it.

      “Yes,” he said. “That would be great, Sid. I am completely out of my element here anyway, and this … this is just a little bit overwhelming, even though …” He turned to look at the sprawling lawns, the gardens, the koi swimming in the fountain, his heart swelling a little in his chest. It was nice here. He would have everything he had ever wanted here. “Even though it was meant for me.”

      Sid couldn’t possibly have understood, but he nodded as if he did and, reaching past Demetrius, opened the massive doors.

      3

      After five weeks, Demetrius was finally beginning to feel at home in the mansion.

      He was lying on the chaise on the balcony outside his third-floor suite, basking in the Arizona sun. Below him, scantily clad models and actresses and various hangers-on frolicked in the pool, in the fountains, in the spa. So did Gus.

      So had he, at first. And for quite some time over the past five weeks. But now he was bored. And extremely restless.

      “Excuse me, Mr. D?”

      He didn’t blink. Didn’t turn. He’d come to rely on Sid, the limo-driver-slash-man-Friday, more and more. Sid explained things to him when he didn’t quite follow them and didn’t ask questions about why he didn’t quite follow them. He didn’t ask questions about anything. Not when Demetrius had sawed off the cast on the jet. Not when he’d managed to make a starlet he’d seen on a television show appear at his front door and, later, in his bed. And not when he’d left a pile of caviar cans with holes burned through their bottoms on the ground out back after target practice with his amazing double-edged blade. Nothing.

      “What is it, Sid?”

      Sid hesitated before answering, which made Demetrius СКАЧАТЬ