Holy Smokes (14 page)
“I assure you, we’re not playing games. Maybe I’d better start at the beginning…”
“You’re gonna want to sit down,” Jim told the dragon. “Once she gets going, it’s hard to stop her.”
“Silence, demonic one,” I said, smiling at Bastiano. If I thought he looked surprised at the news that we weren’t there to banish him, he was downright flabbergasted by the time I was done relating the pertinent events of the last few months.
“You were the mate of the green wyvern—I am glad to know that Drake still has charge of the sept—but now you are Fiat’s mate?” he asked.
“In name only. Fiat tricked us into that situation. He’s…well, you know what he is.”
Bastiano nodded. “Cruel,” he said.
“Bastard,” Jim said with a sniff.
“Evil to the core,” said Rene.
“Looks like a porn star,” added Uncle Damian. “Don’t trust men who look like they make their livings with their dicks.”
A slight flush rose on Bastiano’s cheeks.
“Present company excluded, naturally,” I told him, shooting my uncle a glance. “This is going to sound horribly rude, I just know it, but would you mind me asking how old you are? Because you really do look just like Fiat, and I wondered if you were born around the same time as him?”
He blinked. “I was born in 1442. Fiat was born to my sister in…I believe it was 1585? Sometime around then, so yes, I was still young when he was born. As for the similarity of our appearance…” His hands made an eloquent gesture of dismissal. “That is a family trait, and not important. What
is
important is the regrettable fact that by your very act of coming here, you have doomed yourself to imprisonment as well.”
“Huh?” I asked, trying hard to keep my jaw from dropping a second time.
“Do you think I would stay here if I could leave?” His eyes darkened until they were almost black. “This house is nothing more than a prison, and for us all, there is no way out.”
“
N
o one…argh…locks me…oooph!…into a house without my…dammit! That hurt!…permission! Look out!”
The confinement wards that were drawn each morning on all exits of the house by one of Fiat’s employees were pretty darned good, but not good enough. True, it took me five minutes of struggling to shove Bastian (who told us he preferred the shortened form of his name) through the one on the front door, but in the end, brute force and my own determination won the day.
“That was sure a heck of a lot easier coming in than going out,” I said, blowing a strand of hair back from my damp forehead.
Bastian looked a bit worse for wear, but at last he stood on the front steps of the house in which he’d been held a prisoner for eighty-some years, jubilation filling his face as he swung his arms wide and spun in a circle. “I do not believe it! You did it! You have done the impossible!”
“All in a day’s work,” I said modestly, watching as he executed a little dance of joy. “I’ve had pretty good luck getting through wards before, so I was almost certain I could get you out of this one, too.”
“Hey, Princess Modesty, you want to come flex your übermuscles for us, too?” Jim called from just inside the doorway.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, let me give you guys a hand.” I entered the house, feeling only a little tingle of the ward until I turned around and tried to leave again.
Bastian babbled happily as over the next forty minutes I shoved Jim, Rene, Uncle Damian, three elderly retainers who had taken care of Bastian and were loyal to him rather than Fiat, and what seemed to be an inordinate amount of luggage out through the confinement ward. By the time we were done, I was exhausted and had a horrible feeling that I looked like I’d been pulled through a hedge backwards a few dozen times.
“The demon says you have a plan,” Bastian said a short while later as Rene returned from fetching a taxi. The five of us piled into the car Rene had rented, with Bastian’s people taking the taxi. “Now that I am free, you may count on my assistance in whatever manner you deem necessary.”
“We’re going to fly back to London first,” I answered, chewing on my lip and wishing I’d thought more about what we were going to do once we had Bastian. “Fiat is there right now, and it seems as good a place as any to tackle the situation.”
Bastian nodded and waited for me to continue.
“Er…I haven’t quite worked out all the details, but I thought you could go before the blue dragons, tell them how Fiat unjustly imprisoned you so he could be wyvern when he wasn’t born to the job, have him removed, and then you can take over and disown me as mate.”
The silence that followed my words was almost deafening. “
That
is your plan?” Bastian asked.
I nodded.
“The full extent of it?”
I nodded again, a bit less enthusiastically.
He sighed and sat back against the seat, his eyes closed.
Uncle Damian turned around in the seat to give me a dark look. Jim pursed its lips. Rene’s gaze in the rearview mirror was all too readable.
“Well, I’m doing the best I can!” I burst out, pricked by all those looks. “I can’t think of everything! It’s not like I don’t have a gazillion other things on my mind!”
“It’s all right,” Bastian said, his eyes still shut. “You have done the impossible already, the rest is up to me.”
His face was barely visible in the darkness, little flashes of it glowing dimly now and again as the lights from buildings penetrated the car.
“A challenge?” I asked.
“Yes. You said Fiat engineered the situation with you via a challenge…very well. I will give him a taste of his own medicine.”
I eyed the man next to me. His voice had thus far been lyrical and quite pleasant to listen to, but a note of something indefinable had entered it at the last minute. Was that phrase “the enemy of my enemy is my friend” quite so true as I had hoped? Or had I just unleashed a power a whole lot worse than Fiat?
“Merde,”
I muttered.
“No word?” Uncle Damian asked six hours later as I rubbed my arms in the cold morning air, our conversation drowned out for a moment by the sound of a plane taking off.
I shook my head, worry making my belly churn. “That’s not like him. He didn’t even have his voice mail on, and he always has that in case I need him for something. I don’t mind saying I’m starting to get really worried. And pissed. Dammit, why didn’t he tell me where he was going?”
“He doesn’t want you following,” Uncle Damian answered as I watched people haul their luggage over to the passenger pickup area.
“Arrogant, foolish, bossy man,” I grumbled to myself. “Jim, I summon thee.”
Jim popped into view, shaking itself in a manner guaranteed to send dog hair and spittle flying. “Do you have to send me to the Akashic plane every time? Couldn’t I, like, go somewhere else? Bahamas? Venice? How about the Mexican
“Hush, someone will hear you. Do you think we did the right thing by letting Bastian go off on his own?” I asked my uncle.
“Possibly. I’ll check into the address he gave us to make sure he’s not up to anything.”
“I just thought it was a bit odd that he didn’t want to stay with us, but I guess it makes sense that he must still have friends in the sept who would take him in. Oh, good, here comes Rene with the car.”
I picked up my small bag, glancing at my cell phone for a moment, willing Drake to call me and tell me he was OK, but no such miracle happened.
“As usual, it’s up to me to make my own miracles,” I said, sighing wearily.
“Uh-oh. That’s bound to end up with me losing another toe or two,” Jim said, backing away from me.
“I said hu—aieeee!”
A short, squat man suddenly burst into being directly in front of us, growling in a voice that had chunks of cement flaking off a wall behind me, “You are summoned.”
Before I could protest, the demon grabbed my arm and yanked me through the hole it had created. Uncle Damian threw himself on me just before I was sucked in, the two of us falling together in a heap on a cold stone floor.
I knelt on my hands and knees for a moment while I fought the horrible sensations that accompanied being yanked through the fabric of being, finally raising my head to see which demon lord had summoned me so summarily.
“I should have guessed,” I said a moment later as Uncle Damian, looking a bit green about the gills, helped me to my feet.
“You all right?” he asked.
“Yeah. You?”
He nodded, glancing around quickly. “We where I think we are?”
“Yes. Welcome to Abaddon. Jim, I summon thee.”
“Fires of Ab—woops.” Jim’s mouth slammed shut as soon as the figure standing at a window turned toward us.
“Aisling Grey,” the man said, looking much as I remembered him. Dark-haired, handsome, with a slight European accent—but it was his eyes that bothered me the most. They were flat, a façade to hide his true thoughts. He raised his eyebrows at Uncle Damian. “And a mortal?”
“This is my Uncle Damian. Uncle, this is Bael, the premier prince of Abaddon, and incidentally the one who tricked me into taking on this position and ending up proscribed.”
“I’m evil,” Bael said with a shrug. “It’s what I do best.”
“Does he always…er…summon you this way?” Uncle Damian asked, watching Bael warily.
“Yes. Annoying, isn’t it?”
Uncle Damian appraised the demon lord and answered in a voice that was rich with warning, “I’m not sure I’d use that word just now.”
“You have much more circumspection than your niece, who has decreed this manner of communication by her repeated dismissal of much more civilized attempts at meeting,” Bael answered, seating himself in a deep, black leather chair. There was nowhere for us to sit, not that I wanted to make myself comfortable for a cozy little chat with the head honcho of Hell. “You cannot blame me, Aisling Grey, if you drive me to taking extreme measures. And speaking of pleasures waiting to be had at your expense, might I ask when I may expect my homage?”
“Er…homage? What homage would that be?”
“Surely you have read the Doctrine by now?” Bael asked, tapping his fingers on a letter opener that appeared to be made of bone.
I wondered if there was ever going to be a time when I wasn’t at least five paces behind everyone else, mentally speaking.
Bael sighed and set down the letter opener, waving a hand that instantly summoned a minion. “Nefere, present Aisling Grey with the Doctrine of Unending Conscious.”
The demon, short, squat, and reeking of evil, rolled over to me with a peculiar gait. I stood my ground, not recoiling from its presence as I wanted to do, instead watching with increasing horror as it bared its yellow teeth at me in a grotesque parody of a smile, then pulled out a penknife and slashed a sizeable chunk of skin off its arm.
“Oh, my god!” I screamed as it slapped the repulsive blob of skin into my hand. My own flesh crawled as I stared at the monstrosity that lay wetly on my fingers. It wasn’t particularly bloody, demons not going in much for blood, but the mere fact that it was someone’s skin made me want to run screaming from the room. “What the hell is this?”
“Doctrine,” the demon answered.
The blob of flesh continued to hold an unhealthy fascination for me. I couldn’t look away from it, just kept staring at it as if I expected it to…what, I had no idea. It was just so terrible, I couldn’t look away from it.
“The Doctrine of Unending Conscious is the set of laws that govern Abaddon,” Bael said in a bored voice. “It is burnt into the flesh of all minions. I would be surprised that any other demon lord had not availed himself of it in order to learn our ways, but your continued flaunting of our traditions no longer surprises me. Read the Doctrine and return to me with the homage.”
“There’s a whole doctrine on it?” I asked, feeling in my pocket for something into which I could place the chunk of skin. I squinted at it, seeing the faintest spidery writing in its wrinkled folds. “I’m going to have to use a microscope to read it!”
“You want bigger piece?” Nefere asked, pulling up its shirt and flicking open its penknife.
“No!” I yelled as it was about to slash off a piece of skin from its stomach. “This is fine. I’ll just use a microscope.”
Bael glanced at his desk calendar. “The new moon is in five days. You have until that time to bring me the sacrifices.”
I considered the last word he spoke with much foreboding. “This homage is going to involve something truly appalling, isn’t it?”
“You are dismissed,” he answered without glancing our way.
I wanted badly to tell him that there was no way I’d ever participate in rituals of Abaddon, but luckily, I didn’t have the chance. Nefere picked me up with one arm and, before I could do so much as yell for help, tossed me out on the front steps of a redbrick house.
“Hey! Be more careful with her! Aisling is—”
“Jim, silence!” I snarled as I got to my feet, rubbing my hip where it had hit one of the stone columns that supported a portico. The last thing I needed was for everyone in Abaddon to know I was pregnant.
“Did he hurt you?” Uncle Damian asked, dusting me off. “Should we go to a hospital?”
“No, I’m fine. I more rebounded off the column than hit the ground.” Behind us, the door slammed. I looked around, not recognizing the area. The house appeared to be isolated on a few acres of landscaped lawn. A crushed-gravel path led down to a wrought-iron gate. “Anyone have any idea where we are? Jim, you can talk, just keep quiet about the baby, OK?”
“Sorry,” it answered, rubbing its head on my hand. “I don’t know where we are, but rumor going around the demonic watercooler said that Bael liked to mingle with the mortal world. This must be his place.”
We walked slowly down the drive, no one else in sight until we reached the gate. A demon stood there, watching us silently until we stopped before it.
“We are leaving. Unlock the gate,” Uncle Damian told it.
The demon sneered, crossing its arms over its sizeable chest. “I don’t take orders from mortals.”
“How about from a prince of Abaddon?” I snapped, too tired to put up with crap from a demon. “Jim, who is this idiot?”