Interruption Six

Interruption Six

“You mean to tell me,” Cyril began, pinching the bridge of his nose, “that a knight stormed the forest and defeated you in your dragon form, all to rescue the groom’s lover who I was specifically trying to keep occupied during the wedding? All in a matter of hours?”

He’d left his wife sleeping peacefully in bed when the shadow-walker had summoned him. Since they couldn’t talk in the bedroom without waking her, they’d snuck down to the inn’s dining room to converse in hissed whispers. The lights remained off to not alert the owners, so Cyril could only see a hint of the shadow-walker’s silhouette. It made him feel like he was talking to himself.

The shadow-walker added mulishly, “There was also a wizard.”

Which only made things worse. Cyril hated nothing more than a goody-two-shoes wizard who interfered in his plans. Tapping his fingers on the table, he asked, “Did the wizard fight?” If he did, that would be against the rules—the shadow-walker was a Level Two demon, after all. Cyril could file an official complaint with the council and have him removed from this story in a snap.

“No. He did offer assistance and training.”

Dammit, mentorship was perfectly within the limitations. Sighing, he rubbed his temples and considered what to do next. Part of him wanted to simply attend the wedding and let the groom fuck it all up on his own—there were enough pieces in play for it to be a spectacular failure—but that sounded so … so … so side character! He wasn’t a side character, dammit, he was a villain, and he was going to act like one!

He just had to figure out what pieces were still in play. “Who was the knight?” he asked. “Was it the prince’s lover? The one the imp saw at the marketplace?”

“This one was a young woman with red hair.”

“Hm, perhaps it was the bride. But no, why would she want to rescue her fiancé’s lover?”

“I assume she was there to rescue the groom.”

Cyril pursed his lips. “Demon.”

“Yes, master?”

“Was the groom inside the tower when you activated scenario four-ten?”

The shadow-walker remained silent.

“You do realize that locking him inside the tower with his lover was the exact opposite of what I wanted?”

More silence.

After a few minutes, Cyril realized that the outline of the shadow-walker had disappeared. He wondered how long he had been talking to air.

“Level Two my ass,” he muttered. He really needed to hire better minions. And perhaps write a complaint to both councils about the leveling system—it clearly needed reassessment. “I’ll just have to do it myself.”

He went back up to the room and softly stroked his wife’s hair until she stirred and looked up at him with a sleepy smile. “Morning already?” she asked, clutching her pillow tighter like she didn’t want to leave the bed yet.

“No, dearest, but something came up.”

Her pretty pink lips pursed in a pout. “Honey, must I remind you that we are on vacation? If we miss this wedding—”

“I promise I’ll return before then.”

She continued to pout for a moment before insisting, “You better.” Then she wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him down for a long, thorough kiss, before sinking back into her pillows and returning to dreamland. Hopefully she remembered the conversation in the morning, but just in case, he left a note on the desk explaining his absence.

Outside the inn, he pulled the hood up on his black cloak, swished his arm dramatically, and disappeared into the night.