Dark Light of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #2)

Dark Light of Mine (Overworld Chronicles #2) Page 41

Elyssa took a bit herself and nodded. "Nutty."

"Well, it is Mr. Nutter's Angel Biscuit." I nodded at the posters on the MagicSoft and Orange windows. "Who are the guys in the posters?"

"That's Thaddeus Crumble, the guy who founded MagicSoft, and he," she said, nodding at the Orange poster, "is Enias Glover, founder of Orange. They used to be partners at one point before splitting up to do their own thing."

I gestured at the MagicSoft poster. "I'll bet he got a few wedgies in school."

"Even if he did, I'm sure he's more than made up for it," Elyssa said. "He's one of the richest people in the Overworld and that's saying something considering how many centuries some of the older members have had to collect their fortunes."

"He still looks like a nerd. Especially with those square glasses."

"I think the glasses are rather stylish," said someone with a haughty British accent from behind us.

I twisted so quickly in the bench I fell off it and onto my butt. Elyssa, meanwhile, sprang away from the voice, her hands held in a fighting pose.

"Did I startle you?" asked the very short man standing several feet back from the bench. His voice was much deeper than I would have expected from someone so short—he barely reached up to Elyssa's waist. But he wore a dark green suit with a silky sheen and a funny little red bowtie. He wore his auburn hair combed neatly to the side. Long sideburns stopped well short of the mutton chops Ryland had favored, and a prominent nose gave his small face far more gravitas than his tiny stature should have carried.

Just as I was about to ask who someone was for the millionth time that day, the small man smiled and said, "I am Phissilinth. If you would be so kind as to follow me, I'll show you the way."

What the hell kind of name was Phissilinth? I wanted to ask. His name was longer than he was. But my stomach clenched and folded itself into a tiny ball of anxiety when I realized this guy was going to lead me to Underborn. Elyssa seemed to realize the same thing and relaxed a bit though she still stared at the tiny man with caution.

"Don't you need to blindfold us or something?" I asked.

He chuckled. "No, no, good sir. You'd never be able to find the place I'm taking you unless we wanted you to." A wicked gleam entered his otherwise jovial eyes. "And even if you did, you'd never survive to tell of it."

Chapter 27

My legs tried to turn and carry me as far away from Phissilinth as possible, but the shame of running from him, even if he was a highly qualified midget assassin, caused my ego to revolt and prod the coward inside to go with the little man. Aside from the one crack about killing me if I ever did find their hideout, Phissilinth sounded like a very pleasant British chap. Short as he was, he didn't walk with the same waddle small folk usually did, instead keeping the limber stride of a very agile child.

"Don't let his size fool you," Elyssa whispered as we walked behind our guide. "I get the feeling anyone who thinks he's easy prey ends up dead."

"The same thought occurred to me," I muttered. "He's probably like the British version of Yoda without the bad grammar."

"This way, please," Phissilinth said, leading us to a nondescript brown door set in one of the many alleys leading away from GrottoPark. He gripped the brass handle on the door—it was several inches above his head—and twisted it open.

After a moment of hesitation, I stepped into a small marble foyer where antique chandeliers hovered overhead and dark green-and-purple striped wallpaper covered the walls. A burgundy-carpeted stairwell led up to a small dimly-lit balcony. Elyssa stood to my side, her eyes searching every square inch of the place.

"How are we not supposed to find this place?" I asked her under my breath. "It's right off the stupid park, for goodness sake."

Phissilinth shut the door behind us and, removing an old-style skeleton key from his pocket, locked it. My ego suddenly joined hands with my cowardice and they fell like heavy jagged rocks into my midsection, weighing me down with a feeling of doom. Had he brought us here to kill us?

Elyssa looked up the stairs then back to Phissilinth who stood next to the door, counting quietly to himself.

"Well?" she asked. "Are we going to stand here all day or—"

Phissilinth held up a hand to quiet her, then slipped the skeleton key back into the lock, twisted it again. The door unlocked with a click. He opened it and my eyes bulged. Instead of seeing the alley we'd come down and the park beyond, a grim stony passageway greeted us with a belch of dank mildew-scented air. Flickering neon lights attached to the wooden support beams in the corridor bumped up the creepy factor by a bazillion.

"How? Where? What?" I couldn't form a complete sentence.

"As I said, my lady and gentleman, there is very little danger of you stumbling across our humble abode." He stepped through. "If you'd continue to follow me, please."

I looked sideways at Elyssa. She wore a dull expression as if she'd seen this sort of thing too many times before. Maybe she had, being a Templar and all. Considering what she'd told me about the Gloom and other planes of existence, being a Templar sounded more adventurous than the Peace Corps.

I took her hand and stepped through the door. Phissilinth shut it behind us and locked it again. As if to show us that, yes, his precious little key was magic, he unlocked the door and opened it to reveal a blank stone room that seemed to go nowhere.

"Will that key take you anywhere?" I asked.

"This is just a copy of the Master Key," he said. "It can take you quite a few places, but the Master Key can take you just about any place there's a door."

I really wanted to get into the hows and whys of magic keys. Could he use it on doors without locks? What about folding doors, car doors, or the toy doors on a Barbie playhouse—not that I had one of those, mind you, but darn it all, I wanted to know! But the little man tucked the key away and led on while I kept my curious mouth shut. Besides, my mind had more pressing concerns weighing on it—like how to survive what was to come.

Then something occurred to me and I smiled.

"What are you thinking?" Elyssa asked.

"I just figured this all out," I said. "Well, not the magic key part or the guardian angel part, or even the strange mystery girl part, but something important."

"Spit it out then."

I cupped my hand over her ears like a kid telling a secret. "The little guy is Underborn."

She tilted her head to the side, looking the little man over, probably sizing him up and deciding if I was right. It made sense to me. We'd probably reach a room somewhere then he'd take a seat, proclaim his real identity, and then murder us after having a good laugh.

I shuddered.

After a few short minutes we reached a large stone room with a roaring fireplace against one wall to chase the damp chill from the air, and a large round wooden table with about a dozen or so seats around it. Several brown leather couches sat in a triangular formation with a rich oriental rug spread out on the floor between them all. A stout oak coffee table covered with magazines and books took up the space between the couches.

"If you'd take a seat, please," Phissilinth said, motioning his hand at the couch. "Would you like some hot tea and biscuits while you wait?"

"Are they poisoned?" I asked. "Are you going to kill us?"

He chuckled. "Murdering guests would make for dreadful manners, sir. Please make yourself at home and my lord will be with you in a few moments."

Elyssa sat down and picked up a Cosmopolitan from the table. "Hey, it's a current issue." She showed me the cover.

"What kind of assassin keeps Cosmo on the coffee table?" I said, looking over the stack. I found a copy of Popular Magic and flipped it open to an article demystifying the reaction between Mentos and soft drinks.

Though the noms have their own "scientific" explanations, we've discovered their theories only partially account for the volcanic reaction between The Freshmaker and tasty carbonated beverages. How? Because Mentos were created by one of our very own Overworlders who added his own magical twist to the candy. How else do you think young people miraculously come up with great ideas to crash parties, recover lost soccer balls, and land that hot young lady after eating one of the delicious candies?

"What are you so engrossed in?" Elyssa asked, bending over the magazine.

"I want a subscription to this magazine," I said. "You should see all this cool stuff they do in here."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're going to be a magic nerd aren't you?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "Holy crap, they did a test of flying carpets in here." I looked at her. "Flying carpets! They exist!"

"I wouldn't trust my life to one of those stupid things. They're still magic-fiction as far as I'm concerned."

"What do you mean? Haven't they been around since Arabian Nights?"

"That's a fairy tale, silly." She giggled. "Yes, things like flying carpets and brooms and all that nonsense have been around for ages but the Conclave banned all means of obviously magical transportation so the noms don't freak out."

My heart sank. "That sucks."

"If you're really set on zipping around on a magic carpet, there's a guy in the Grotto who rents them out."

My heart soared. "Why didn't you say so in the first place, woman? We could've been flying all over the place instead of walking."

"I didn't think about it. And I don't trust those flimsy things either."

I rubbed my hands together. "Man, I hope Underborn doesn't kill us. I really want to fly on a magic carpet."

Elyssa squeezed me and kissed my cheek. "You're so sexy when you giggle like a kid."

"Yeah, yeah," I said. "A kid in a candy store. It's really gonna suck if he does kill us." I pressed a hand to my forehead as gravity popped a hole in my happy balloon. "All I want is to enjoy life, not feel like me or the people I care about could die at any moment."