Concerned Parents Consult an Expert
Always the more impulsive one, Rick would have chased the children all the way into the Grimnight Forest if his husband hadn’t proposed a more rational plan: “Fight evil with evil.”
They would consult one evil mage to help them confront another.
Before they left, Rick wrote a letter to his sister to keep her up to date on this new development. On the outside of the envelope, he wrote in giant letters:
URGENT. DO NOT IGNORE. I MEAN IT, FRANNY.
The attendant gave him an odd look but accepted the letter without comment.
That done, they left Misfortune and headed straight for the one evil mage they called friend.
The Lord of Darkness, Prince of Shadows, Bringer of Terrible Evil, the Great and Powerful Cyril, did not have any servants to answer his door when the bell rang in the late afternoon.
He had no appointments scheduled and was not expecting company, so he ignored it.
Living in a gated community did not save him from solicitors—he suspected one of the other residents purposefully sicced them on everyone.
The doorbell rang again.
“Honey, are you going to get that?” his wife called from her office.
Cyril sighed and closed the ancient tome of dark magic he’d been studying.
Of the two of them, she had the soonest deadline, so it made the most sense for him to deal with their visitor.
He took the long way around, stopping by her office.
He tried to peek at the latest novel, but her hands quickly covered the papers, refusing him even a quick glance.
With a soft chuckle, he kissed the top of her head, then moseyed down to the front room. If he took long enough, perhaps the unwanted visitor would get the hint and leave.
The doorbell rang a third time.
Irritation coursed through him at their insistence, and by the time he reached the door, it simmered into anger.
The shadows gathered around him, blotting out the light and obscuring Cyril’s face.
“Who dares disturb me in my lair?” he demanded as he flung the door open.
Then he blinked in surprise at the familiar faces.
“Rick? Brendon? What are you doing here?”
“Sorry we couldn’t write ahead,” Rick said, fidgeting nervously. “It’s an emergency. May we come in?”
Cyril dropped his shadows and stepped back, gesturing for the princes to enter. “Of course, of course. Sorry about the theatrics—thought you were a salesman.”
Lucinda poked her head out of her office and smiled brightly when she saw their guests. “Brendon! Rick! How long has it been?” she asked, bustling over to pull both men into a tight hug. Then answered her own question: “Too long. Did Franny and Kit join you?”
“No, they’re still in Woe,” Rick replied. “We’ve come today because our son and niece are on a quest to defeat a great and terrible evil.”
She gasped, pressing her hand to her chest. “They aren’t coming after my Cyril, are they? He’s just about to retire!”
“I am?”
“You are,” she replied with a flash of sharp teeth.
“Oh, yes, I am …” He wasn’t sure if he’d forgotten making that promise to her, or if she was simply lying to defuse the situation.
“No, of course not,” Brendon assured them. “They’ve gone to the Grimnight Forest to break the curse.”
“We need whatever information you can spare about the Lord of Grimnight—” Rick trailed off as Cyril burst into laughter. It lasted for a solid minute.
“I take it you’re familiar with him,” Brendon said.
Even Lucinda struggled to suppress her giggles. She pressed her hand to her lips, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, we’re both very familiar with”—the giggles won, and she could barely speak—“His Grimness.”
Cyril wiped tears from his eyes, his breath short as he said, “We both apprenticed under my old master. Brutus failed to earn a title while we were studying together, then one day showed up claiming to be the Lord of Grimnight.”
“Stealing titles isn’t uncommon,” Lucinda explained. “But it was such a quiet affair—no bloodshed or showmanship—that his claim has become a joke in the community.”
“I haven’t seen him in years.” Cyril’s gaze grew distant with thoughts of the past. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Rick pursed his lips. “He might no longer be the failure you imagine.”
“True,” Cyril admitted, “He’s certainly had time to improve. However, any son of yours would easily outmatch him. You would make a far better evil mage than Brutus, even without formal training.” The highest compliment he could offer a non-professional.
“Our main concern isn’t the lord himself,” Brendon explained. “It’s his apprentice.”
“Apprentice?” Cyril howled in outrage. “What do you mean he has an apprentice?” In all his years as an evil mage, Cyril had never found the right person to become his apprentice.
By the time he began looking in earnest, all the good ones had been snatched up.
He’d offered the role to Rick once, but he’d chosen to stay in the Desolated Lands with Brendon.
Yes, they were happy together, but it was a waste of evil talent.
Lucinda gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “That’s right! I remember now.”
“What?” Rick asked, tensing in anticipation. He grabbed his husband’s hand for support.
“It was five or six years ago.” She shook Cyril’s arm to jog the memory loose. “That young man you all fought over.”
Cyril’s brow furrowed, then smoothed. “Oh yes. Came looking for a master and showed enough raw talent that he started a damn bidding war. Then he had the gall to choose Brutus. He had such horrible taste, I forgot all about him.”
“I didn’t,” Lucinda said with a beaming smile. “He was a pretty little thing, hair as white as snow and eyes as black as night, and a name to match: Wilde.”
They had a name, but it wasn’t enough. They needed a way to neutralize the apprentice without interfering with the children’s quest.
“Cyril, how would you encourage an apprentice to betray their master?” Rick asked.
Cyril looked at him with pure admiration, wishing once again that the prince had pursued a life of evil. “You make him a better offer.”