The Edge of Dawn Read Online Free PDF Page A

say I escaped.”
    He closed the trunk. “Nope.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    He chuckled, “And ruin my reputation. No thanks.”
    He opened the car door for her. She stared up. He lifted an eyebrow. Sighing aloud, the thwarted Narice got in.
    The highway signs led them into downtown Grand Rapids, the state’s second largest city. When he eased the car into the valet parking lane of a large stately hotel, she didn’t know what to think. The red-coated doormen politely held open the door and the man she knew as Saint escorted her inside. The lobby had frescos painted on the high ceilings, ornate cherrywood furniture and a sedate air that exuded old money. He led her past the highly polished desk where smiling scrubbed faces greeted arriving and departing guests, and over to the bank of elevators. Narice had a thousand questions but kept them to herself because evidently hell would freeze over before he gave her any real answers.
    They emerged onto the twelfth floor and stepped out into a carpeted hallway that was as hushed as it was elegant. Lush green plants in foot-high planters lined the hallway walls. The carpet was so thick she couldn’t hear her own footsteps. At the far end of the hall were two burly men dressed in blue business suits, standing on either side of the last door. Both were brown-skinned men with foreign features that reminded Narice of the Ethiopian uncles of one of her students.
    As Narice and Saint approached, one of the men smiled, showing beautiful white teeth, “Welcome back, Mr. St. Martin. Is this the lady?”
    Her escort nodded. “The bad guys almost beat me to her, though.”
    â€œThey are like cockroaches,” the man answered with disdain, “but I’m sure The Majesty will be pleased that you played the role of champion.”
    The man then turned his attention to Narice. “Welcome.”
    â€œThank you,” she replied warily. She now had more questions than ever. It was obvious that English was not his native language, but he smiled at her as easily as if she were kin. What did this all mean? And who in the world was The Majesty? She thought the proper title for a ruler would be Her or His Majesty.
    Once again she was ushered forward with her questions unanswered. The expansive suite had the rich exotic smell of incenses and perfumes. Amidst the hotel’s conservative cherrywood furniture, pillows brocaded in striking ethnic patterns were spread about the carpeted floor like vivid desert flowers.
    Areas of the room were shrouded behind gossamer-thin veils hemmed in silk. Bearded old men with brown skin and wearing sandals moved about silently. A few of them met her eyes but dropped them immediately and withdrew. Narice shot Saint a puzzled look, but the sound of a gong drew her attention away.
    The deep note resonated in the air for a long moment before fading away. As the silence returned, a small group of men, also dressed in white, processed in.
    Narice couldn’t say if these were the same men she’d seen in the room earlier, but they certainlylooked old enough. She’d be willing to bet a few of them had to be over a hundred.
    When the procession halted, two younger men entered carrying a large gilded chair. It was opulently upholstered in bold purple velvet and embroidered with a large black griffin on the chair’s back. The old men parted like the Red Sea so the chair could be placed between them. Then a man and a veiled woman entered. The woman had her hand resting gracefully upon her escort’s arm. He was robed in white. Her robes were purple and underskirted with black. The purple and black scarf covering her hair flowed to her waist and had the sheen of polished silk. She looked old, but determining her true age was impossible. The veil revealed only that her skin was brown and her eyes, the color of gold.
    The woman took a seat in the gilded chair, and the escort moved back to stand with the other men.