Page 10 of Demon Loved
There was no need for the voice to think that Belshegar had any ulterior motives.
To be fair, he didn’t think he did. This was all about fact-finding, and if said fact-finding involved talking to a very beautiful witch, what of it?
Those justifications sounded good enough to him. Whether they were entirely true was another matter.
He stayed through most of Brianna’s final set of music, but slipped out about ten minutes before seven, figuring it was probably a good idea to go up to the hotel and confirm their dinner reservations, and perhaps change his shirt. From what he’d seen, Jerome appeared to be a very casual place, and yet he didn’t know whether a simple, dark T-shirt was the proper attire for what appeared to be a rather fancy restaurant.
All of his clothes and other “personal” belongings had been supplied by the voice, which seemed to have had a better idea of what might be needed during this trip to Jerome than he ever could. Everything in the limited wardrobe he’d been provided appeared to be equally casual, just more T-shirts and jeans, but Belshegar told himself that was no real impediment.
It wasn’t as if he didn’t have powers of his own.
While he hadn’t spent a great deal of time with any humans besides Elena, he’d still seen pictures in the magazines and books she’d kept in her attic bedroom, and had also seen what men had been wearing at her wedding reception. Quite possibly, a suit coat and tie wouldn’t be needed here, but a dress shirt in a shade of dark green felt appropriate, along with a pair of lace-up shoes to replace the heavy boots he’d previously had on.
Now that he was properly outfitted, he went downstairs, confirmed his reservation, and then wandered around the ground floor of the hotel and did his best not to look too at loose ends. Although he could sense ghostly presences here and there, none of those spirits seemed inclined to approach him or interact in any way, which he had to admit was something of a relief. They were interesting, true, but he didn’t want to do anything that might attract some attention.
At seven twenty-five, he went back up to the restaurant to wait. Not for very long, however, since Brianna McAllister appeared just a minute before their appointed waiting time.
It seemed she’d also decided her attire wasn’t entirely appropriate for The Asylum, since she’d changed out of the jeans and sleeveless blouse she’d worn for her appearance at the wine tasting room. Now she had on a simple dress in a shade of cornflower blue that echoed the color of her beautiful eyes, and her slender feet were adorned with a pair of low, silvery sandals.
He’d thought her stunning before, but now she looked like a goddess in that blue dress with her pink-painted toenails peeking from beneath the long, flowing hem.
“Hi,” he said. Not the most eloquent of responses, he supposed, but it was still better than standing there and gawking as though a unicorn had just emerged from the elevator.
Which was foolish, he knew. Unicorns didn’t exist on this plane.
“Hi,” she replied. Was that just the slightest flicker of admiration in her eyes?
No, he must be imagining things. Although he knew the mortal form the voice had provided — and had originally been created by Loc — was considered quite attractive by human standards, he guessed it would take some kind of godlike being to impress someone as beautiful as Brianna McAllister.
To his relief, the woman standing at the desk up front — some kind of hostess? — seemed to realize their party was now complete, because she said, “This way, please.”
Belshegar hung back for a second or two so Brianna could fall in behind the hostess. He took up the rear, noting that the restaurant was quite full on a day when normally it shouldn’t have been very busy. Had it been simple luck that had allowed him to reserve a table, or was some force higher than he…or even the voice…stepping in to make sure his way was made as smooth as possible?
No, that was probably assigning himself — and his mission here — far more importance than it actually deserved.
However it had happened, it seemed his luck was meant to continue, for he and Brianna were given a table by a window, one that faced east and showed the twinkling lights of Jerome below and the near-dark landscape beyond. By this hour, everything was dusky purple, with no real features that could be discerned, but it was no less beautiful for that.
He and Brianna seated themselves and picked up their menus. While he was still mostly unfamiliar with human food, he knew he could eat any of it if necessary, for the body he wore was human enough, even if the spirit it contained was something entirely other. And because he didn’t want to appear any more awkward than he already had, he’d perused the restaurant menu that had been waiting on the desk in his hotel room so he could familiarize himself as best he could with its contents.
That was why he knew he wanted to order the chicken tenderloins in poblano sauce rather than some of the heavier offerings. At Elena’s reception, he’d consumed some beef and thought it too rich for his very new tastebuds, so he’d immediately gravitated toward the restaurant’s lighter fare.
Brianna — Bree, he reminded himself, although he thought the longer form of her name suited her better — gave the menu only a cursory glance before setting it aside. Concerned, Belshegar asked, “Does nothing look good to you?”
At once, she smiled. “Oh, everything’s good at The Asylum. It’s just that I know the menu pretty much by heart because my brother is the chef here.”
Startled, Belshegar stared back at her. Of course, he understood that most witches and warlocks had regular jobs — mainly because that was what Elena had told him, even though her grandmother hadn’t worked, had stayed home all day so she could keep an eye on her troublesome, demon-summoning granddaughter — but still, he supposed he hadn’t been expecting Brianna McAllister to have such a close connection to the restaurant he’d selected for their dinner.
“So I know all the food here is really good,” she continued. “Tonight, though, I think I’ll have the shrimp skewer. What about you?”
“The chicken tenderloins,” he replied, and she looked pleased.
“Well, that’ll make it easy to choose the wine,” she said, then paused, a hint of concern touching her lovely features. “If you want to order a bottle, of course,” she added hastily.
What would half a bottle of wine do to him?
Probably not all that much. The champagne he’d drunk at Elena’s wedding reception didn’t seem to have had much of an effect at all, so he thought it should be safe enough to share a bottle during his meal with Bree.
“A bottle sounds like an excellent idea,” he said. “But you can choose. Perhaps something local?”
