"You were saying?" Jim asked, sucking its teeth.
"Guardian!" Chuan Ren bellowed. Two of her men were struggling with the demon, but it was clear to see that against the minion of Hell the dragons didn't have a lot of power. "Close the portal. Now!"
Drake gave me a little shove forward. "Perhaps it would be best if you do as she asks, Aish'ng. The imps are harmless, but who knows what will follow the demon?"
I looked at him as if he had imps dancing on his head.
"What? You're kidding, right? You don't actually expect me to close that portal?"
'That's going to stain," Jim said as one of Fiat's men stomped on an imp that was running toward him with a cocktail fork clutched in three of its four arms, scraping the turquoise smear off onto the ceramic pot holding a nearby pEilm.
"I realize you do not have much experience as a Guardian—' Drake started to say.
I interrupted him. "None. Try none. Other than summoning Jim and dealing with that demon lord last month, my experience with portals to you-know-where is exactly nil."
"Afene egye meg," Drake muttered.
"You can say that again, not that I know what you said, but the way you said it leads me to believe that you've captured my feelings in a few succinct words."
"It means 'damn it.' I thought you were being modest when you told me about your lack of skills," Drake said hurriedly, turning to bark out a few orders to Pal and Istvan before turning the others. "We will have to locate a Guardian quickly. Chuan Ren, you must keep the demon from leaving this room. Subdue it if you can, but at all costs it must be kept from leaving. Fiat, your men must stand guard at the portal to ensure nothing else enters. Gabriel and I will gather the imps before they do any real damage. Pal and Istvan will find a Guardian."
"What do you want me to do?" I asked as Drake's men ran past, out to the hotel proper. The look they gave me spoke volumes, and none of it was overly flattering.
"Stay out of the way," Drake answered, grabbing a tablecloth and throwing it on a fire a small herd of imps had started using lunch menus.
I felt lower than a snake's belly, helpless, a waste of oxygen standing there while the dragons handled the imps and demons and who knew what else that might spew forth from the portal.
"Dammit, I'm a Guardian!" I told Jim. "I'm a professional! I have power!"
"Ub-huh. And Ilarax there is going to take the title of studmuffin of the year."
"I do have power. I have lots of power, oodles of it floating around me. How many people do you know who can harness a dragon's fire? I just need to focus. If I do that, perhaps I can slam the portal shut until one of Drake's guys shows up with an experienced Guardian,"
The demon, which had been engaging in a fairly impressive display of martial arts with two of Chuan Ren's bodyguards, leaped back onto the table and started chanting a familiar spell. It was summoning other demons. Chuan Ren threw herself at it, knocking it down onto the table, but despite its femmy getup, it was strong. She went flying across the room with a shriek that was almost as painful on the ears as the demon's.
If I didn't stop the demon, it would summon up its demon lord's horde. And that could only be bad news. "Come on, Jim," I said, mentally girding my loins as I strode forward. "We have a portal to close."
"What? Are you insane? You don't know the first thing about closing portals!" Jim stared at me in openmouthed horror as I pushed past it and marched to the table. The demon Ilarax, which had resumed its invocation, spun around and glared at me as I approached.
"That's right, but you do. Quickly, what do I have to do to shove your colorful friend back through the portal?"
"Ilarax is no friend of mine. He's in Magoth's legions, and that, let me tell you, is one badass demon lord. You don't want to mess with one of his demons."
"I don't care if it's a member of the Supreme Court. I just want to know how to shove it back," I said through my teeth, trying to maintain my smile as Itarax stomped its way across the table to stand in front of me, its hands on its befeathered tutu hips. Three imps marched behind the demon, their arms (they each had four) on their tiny little hips in a very bizarre parody as they eek-eeked aggressively at me.
"You need the twelve words," Jim answered, hiding behind me, its big furry head peeking around my thighs to look at the demon.
"'Guardian! You do not have the strength to hold me!" Ilarax snarled in a high-pitched voice. "To try is folly. Bow down unto the power of Ilarax and acknowledge me as your master!"
"Twelve words? Not the twelve words that are different for each demon? Not the twelve friggin' words that no one but the demon knows? Not those twelve words, Jim?"
"Yup, those are the ones."
One of Chuan Ren's men pulled himself up from the floor, wiping blood out of his eyes as he snarled something that sounded really nasty. A knife flashed in his hand as he attacked the demon, but it fell impotently when the demon twisted the dragon's arm into an unnatural position, the horrible crunching, popping sound making my stomach turn over.
"You sure you're up to this?" Jim whispered.
The dragon guard screamed as the demon threw him through one of the glass walls.
"Sure I'm sure. It's just a demon, right? I can handle that."
Lit the red wyvern's mate, leaped up from where he was trying to revive Chuan Ren and ran screaming toward the demon. Without even looking at the dragon, the demon lashed a leg out and caught Li full in the belly. He slammed into a wall, sliding down it like a limp sack of potatoes.
Jim raised its eyebrows. Drake and Gabriel's men were engaged in putting out the fire, which had quickly spread along the wooden paneling on the near wall. Fiat and his guys were beating back the wave of imps as they emerged from the portal, but even with the three of them stomping and squashing as fast as they could, the little turquoise and pink creatures were getting away from them, quickly wreaking havoc.
I turned back to eye the demon. It was standing with its back to me, its arms waving as it continued the words of summoning.
"Right. Force is out. Martial arts is out. It's just me and my brain against the demon,"
Jim groaned. "We're doomed."
I ignored my furry demon, a little tickle of an idea coming to mind as I snatched up the knife that one of the red dragons had dropped. There was only one thing to do.
Five minutes later Nora raced into the atrium, Pal on her heels. She skidded to a stop at the sight of me sitting on the now-subdued demon, my hand buried in its tutu. "I came as quickly as I could. The dragon said it was an emergency—are you holding a knife to that demon's genitalia?"
"Yep," I answered, pressing the tip of the steak knife into the demon's tender flesh. Its shriek was muffled by Jim lying across its head, but it still had enough power to cause an ice sculpture bearing caviar to crack and fall to the floor in a nasty mess. Around us, order was slowly being returned to the room. Harax's limbs, tied with linen napkins to the table legs, twitched as I allowed the knife to slide a little bit into its skin. "Knock off the sonic screaming or they're going to be calling you Salty."
"Ash, honey, I don't think that's going to serve as much of a threat in this instance," Jim said.
I looked down at the demon's bizarre outfit. "Oh. You may be right. Still, it surrendered rather than allowing me to hurt its noogies, which says something about it."
"But—but—" Nora looked around the room before pushing her glasses up and leaning forward to speak quietly. "Demons cannot be hurt, Aisling."
"I know, but the form they take can be destroyed. That's what made me think of a way to control this demon other than wards or the twelve words. The dragons tried to beat it up, but they didn't get very far because they didn't use their brains."
"Their brains?" Nora parroted, looking more than a little confused.
"I like to think that I take an alternate path to a solution," I said with a tiny bit of pride. "One of the things I've learned is that tackling a problem head-on isn't always the way to triumph over it.
In this case, I knew there was no way I'd be able to beat the demon when it was physically stronger than me, so I decided to go for its weak point."
She looked at the demon's groin.
I nodded. "It's pretty obvious that it has masculinity issues, which means it values its manly bits. A little flick of the knife in the demonic happy zone and voila! Instant compliance."
Nora shook her head, a slight smile on her face. "I don't believe I've ever seen anyone control a demon using only the threat of emasculation. It is unprecedented. It is ... a quite odd method of control."
"Aisling is a very unique woman," Drake said as he walked by holding a smoking, quivering tablecloth full of imps. "It is one of her many charms."
I grinned at him.
His eyes simmered with annoyance. "It is also one of her most irritating traits. I will dispose of these imps. If you could send the demon back and close the portal, Guardian, we will ascertain the extent of our injuries and hopefully be able to continue with our summit." -
Nora looked at me as Drake strode off, followed by Istvan, Pal, and two of Fiat's men, all of whom also held imp-filled tablecloths. The red dragons had taken the brunt of the damage, but they were all conscious, bloody but unbowed, receiving medical care from Gabriel and his crew. "I am beginning to think that perhaps you are not so much in need of a mentor as you are a score-keeper," she said cryptically, then set about sending the demon back where it came from and closing the portal.
I pondered her words the entire time she was busy, but couldn't come to any conclusion other than that she obviously thought I was a bad risk apprentice-wise.
Welcome to the club, an inner voice giggled.
I0
I he remainder of the dragon lunch was anticlimactic. It's hard to top a demon suddenly opening a portal to Hell right there in the middle of the table, and luckily for my peace of mind, no one tried. Nora was swift and efficient as she set about first dispersing the demon, then closing the portal, although as she left, she pointed out the portal wasn't eliminated, just closed.
"As Fm sure Aisling knows," she said with an odd look at me as she tucked away her copy of the Grimoire of Magus Turiel, a sixteenth-century book of conjurations, invocations, and general "how to get rid of a pesky demon" guidelines. I had a copy of the grimoire at home but hadn't thought to bring it with me since I assumed the conference was going to be nothing but lectures. "A portal can be destroyed only by a Guardian of great power. This one is merely closed. It can be reopened should a demon possessing the necessary strength desire it."
"Yeah," I said, nodding my head like mad at Drake in an attempt to look ttke knew what she was talking about. "What she said. It's just closed. So don't be messing around with it."
He gave me a long look. "It was not my presence that summoned the demon and caused it to open the portal in the first place."
I bristled at the implication in his words. "What, you're saying I did? Drake, I did not summon a demon. That involves drawing a circle of ash and salt and saying the invocation. I'd know if I did that, thank you very much, and I didn't!" Turning to Nora, my hands spread in supplication, I asked her, "There's no other way to summon a demon, right? You have to say the words and do the circle thing?"
"That is the most common way to summon a servant of a dark lord/* she Agreed, "but not the only way."
Drake tugged on one of the two chains around my neck, pulling the amulet up to wave it before my eyes. "This is why the demon opened the portal before you. It was drawn by the power in the amulet, power thai was enhanced and amplified by your abilities. I suspect it is also what is making mortal men apparently unable to resist the lure of your charms."
I snatched the amulet back and tucked it away, irrationally stung by the knowledge that he had to be right. Ever since I'd put the blasted thing on in order to keep it from being stolen, men—non-Otherworld men—had been on me like flies on imp droppings. I didn't want them slobbering on me, and I knew almost from the beginning that it had to be something other than me that was attracting them, but to be told that to your face by a man so incredibly handsome he made your internal organs want to jump for joy whenever he was near did no little damage to my ego. "Well, of course it's the amulet. No one said it was me doing all that."
He leaned forward, briefly brushing his lips against mine, letting just a little flicker of his dragon fire leap to me. I embraced it, played with it, allowing it to coil around me as he said softly, "I find you utterly irresistible, Aisling."
"That’s just the amulet talking," I answered, reluctantly sending his fire back to him before stepping back, away from him. There were definite limits ] had when it came to Drake, and standing so close to him that I could smell that wonderfully spicy scent that was uniquely his own was way over the line of what I could deal with.
His eyes glittered with heat. "Shall we test that theory tonight?"
"No," I said quickly, stiffening my knees and backing away even farther, giving Nora a bright "Will not be having sex with a wyvern tonight because I'm dedicated to being a Guardian" smile. "Absolutely not. It's completely and utterly out of the question,"
Drake just smiled. A slow, sensual, thoroughly wicked smile. One that pretty much told me my goose wasn't just cooked, it was roasted over an open fire.
I sat more or less mute for the remainder of the lunch while the four wyverns were sidetracked from the big negotiations to hash out a territorial dispute that was evidently a roadblock to a formal peace declaration. Since my input on that was not required, I mentally lectured myself while I ate csirkemell bazsaiikommal es fekete olivabogyoval (chicken breast with basil and an olive tapenade), which was one of the most delicious dishes I'd ever tasted, and pointed out to myself that a renewal of relations with Drake was not on my list of tasks to be accomplished before the conference was over. He might be sexy as hell, he might clang my chains like no other man—or dragon—but he was a complication I didn't need in my life.
Why is it good intentions are always the first thing to go?
An hour later I checked the message board used by some of the almost two thousand conference attendees to post messages, but didn't see anything addressed to me.
"Do you think Moa is sick or something?" I asked Jim, pulling the demon aside so we weren't in the direct flow of traffic. That hour's workshops had just let out, and the halls of the convention center were suddenly filled with Mages, oracles, Guardians, and all the assorted other denizens of the Otherworld as they made a beeline for the bathrooms, checked their conference programs to decide which workshop they'd go to next, or simply stood in small groups chatting. I had asked around as soon as Drake released me from lunch duties, but no one had seen Moa since the evening before, when she and Jim and I had talked in the dog garden. "She's so professional, it doesn't seem terribly like her to miss our appointment or change it without first leaving me word."
"Maybe she's just trying to avoid you," Jim suggested, eyeing a plate containing a half-eaten sandwich that had been carelessly tossed onto a table bearing bottles of water. "Maybe you're a social pariah. Maybe word has gotten out to all Guardian mentors that you've got a badass demon in handsome dog form and a dragon who practically makes you drool when you look at him."
"I don't drool when I look at Drake.I' Jim cocked aneyebrow at me. "I don't! I was just hungry, and that chicken smelled yummy. And thank you for the lovely vote of confidence, but I don't believe Moa is trying to hide from me. If she changed her mind about meeting with me, she'd tell me. I think. Maybe I'll try the front desk and see if she left word for me there."
It wasn't until I had the bright idea of trying the room number that she'd mentioned earlier that the truth struck me: There was something about Europe—or rather, me in a European country—that was damned. Cursed. Bad to the bone, baby.
"What's going on?" Jim and I stopped about twenty feet away from the door to what I assumed was Moa's room. A small crowd of hotel maids, a couple of conference attendees, and police officials b
locked the hallway.
The person in front of me turned. It was Marvabelle, drat my luck. "Why, if it isn't Ashley. Hank, look. It's Ashley and that talkin' dawg of hers."
Hank gave me a weak smile before hurriedly stepping out of the way to allow two men bearing a stretcher to pass.
'Is someone hurt?" A horrible feeling filled the pit of my belly, wrestling with the chicken and tapenade and crunchy Chinese noodles that had been served with lunch. "It's not Moa, is it?"
Marvabelle gave me an odd look. "Now, fancy you knowinI that. Hank, fancy her knowin' that."
"Oh, god," I said, fighting a bout of nausea as the men bearing the stretcher reappeared. A heavy black wool blanket was draped over the person on the stretcher, not in a keep-away-shock sort of way, but in a covered-head-to-toe way. "She's dead, isn't she? Moa's dead."
"Yes, she is. Killed, they say, by person or persons unknown." Marvabelle looked me up and down, her eyes glistening with an unholy delight. The sight of it added to my already nervous state. Someone had killed Moa? Lovely, elegant Moa? I looked around at the now scattering crowd of people, the maids standing together in a tight clutch, speaking almost soundlessly, the police disappearing back into the hotel room. The few remaining GODTAMers drifted past me. Who on earth could want to kill Moa?
Marvabelle's nasal voice pierced my horrified musings. "It's said that a woman and a big black dog were the last to see the Guardian alive."
My mouth, which I admit has a tendency to hang open when people more or less accuse me of being an accessory to murder, if not the murderer herself, did, in fact, gape slightly for the passing of a few seconds while I stared in disbelief at Marvabelle.
"The police will detain you for several hours in a small, windowless room. You will receive a sliver there," a man said as he strolled past
"Oh, no, not you again," I growled, glaring at the back of the head of the blond Diviner named Paolo. I would have followed him and asked him just what it was he had against me, but at that moment a policewoman stepped from the hotel room and glanced toward where we stood.
Fire Me Up Page 10
