Djinn Justice (The Collegium Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

smiled at her blazingly and hooked her hand through the crook of his elbow, as if they were to take a stroll.
    Only then did the tension of the moment break. She blinked as the room they’d entered finally burst into her awareness. “Good grief.”
    The café at the fort’s entrance was unexpected, but normal enough. This room was like something out of an eighteenth century palace. Long and narrow, it led inescapably to the heavy door at the other end. Gilt-framed paintings in the Rococo style lined the walls. Graceful, spindly and uncomfortable looking chairs were spaced at regular intervals, and dared visitors to sit in them. Underfoot, a sky-blue carpet edged in gold thread delineated the walkway. The ceiling was painted with a cherub-haunted mural.
    Fay shut her mind to the décor designed to overawe.
    “It’s a pain in the butt to clean. You should hear the staff complain and the art restorers shriek at every cobweb.” Steve led her forward. “It would be simpler to strip it back and have something modern.
    She stared at him and his casual dismissal of such grandeur.
    He put a hand on the heavy door in front of them. “This opens to the Court. It’ll give you an idea of the fort’s real purpose before we pass through it to the corridor to Granddad and Grand-mère’s private rooms. At this hour, they’ll be finishing lunch.”
    “Maybe we shouldn’t interrupt their meal?” She bumped into him as he froze in the open doorway, blocking her access and view. “Steve?”
    “I don’t think interrupting lunch will be a problem.” He moved into the room and brought her with him.
    Fay recognized Uncle instantly.
    The djinn had changed his appearance to that of a middle-aged European man with fair silvering hair and a lean build, but the sly mischief in his gaze, as much as the aura of his magic, gave him away.
    Not that Fay could spare the djinn as much attention as his threat level warranted, nor appreciate the vast room with its soaring ceiling, stone walls and tingling sense of power. Not when two elderly people watched her with grave suspicion and disapproval.
    Steve’s grandparents. They had to be. His grandfather sat at the head of the boardroom table with his wife on his right.
    The djinn lounged in an executive chair midway down the table. “Come in. Don’t be shy. We’ve been waiting for you.”
    Steve let the door go. The slam of it closing echoed around the stone-walled chamber. It felt ancient, the air in the room heavy with the weight of centuries of judgment. “Good afternoon, Granddad, Grand-mère. Uncle. I’m glad you’re all here to welcome Fay.”
    “Faith Olwen .” Steve’s grandfather supplied her full name, stressing her surname to indicate he knew who she was. In his thin face, his mouth was a tight line of displeasure.
    “Mage and former Collegium guardian,” Steve responded steadily.
    “Oh dear.” The downbeat on the second word was a die-away sigh of distress. Mrs. Jekyll added a tiny, deprecatory shake of her dark auburn-haired head. The soft waves of her hair didn’t move, fixed in place. She was stylish, fastidiously made-up, and gave the impression of a plump, pampered housecat. Her sour expression ruined the look, puckering a mouth precisely outlined in pink lipstick.
    Fay snapped her shoulders straight. Judged and found wanting. She’d endured worse. Her own parents had used and abandoned her, even if she was rebuilding her relationship with her mom. That Steve’s family objected to her wasn’t a new pattern in her life—and she had Steve. For his sake, though, she had to make this work. “Nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Jekyll.”
    Mr. Jekyll nodded. Mrs. Jekyll continued to glare.
    Uncle grinned. “Pull up a chair.”
    Fay and Steve crossed the chamber, their footsteps echoing on the stone floor. The room was impossibly large and expansively empty despite the hulking boardroom table. The air was cool and still, faintly eddying only now with their movement.