Fire Me Up

by Katie MacAlister

  "Where you are going?" Istva'n asked, his face pulled into a familiar scowl. "Drake will not like you leaving."

  "I'm going to find Nora and ask her a couple of questions, then I'm off to buy a few supplies for tonight. Tell Drake I'll be back soon."

  "Kiss, kiss," Jim said to Istvan, following me out the door.

  "Why do you do that?" I asked as we got into the elevator. "You know Istvan is not happy with you any more than he is with me. Baiting him is one way to ensure he's never going to give you fresh water or take you out for a walk if I'm busy."

  "I know," Jim sighed, a faux look of sadness on its hairy face. "But a demon has to have some fun, and you won't let me blight anyone, so tormenting lstvdn is pretty much all that's left to me."

  We ran Nora to earth a little while later, as she came out of a workshop on subterranean imps, evidently a new breed that was starting to become bothersome. I was glad to see she bore no further signs of the attack, either physically or emotionally, her eyes as warm and serene as ever behind her bright red glasses.

  "Got a moment?" I asked as she separated from a group of friends to walk over to where I was sitting.

  She glanced at her watch. "Certainly. There is a seminar on ancient Moldavian curses in ten minutes that I would like to attend, but if you need my help, I will be happy to miss it."

  "No, this shouldn't take too long. Basically I wanted to ask you about Marvabelle."

  Her eyes widened. "Why?"

  "You said the first night of the conference that you knew her years ago, that you and she studied together under the same mentor."

  "Yes, we did. It was almost twenty years ago."

  "Where exactly did your mentor live?"

  A slight frown wrinkled her brow. "As a matter of fact, it was here, in Pest. We both studied with Monette Tomas. She was a Guardian married to a Hungarian Mage. They divorced after a few years, and Monette returned to London. I went with her."

  'But Marvabelle didn't?"

  Her gaze slid from me to her hands. "No, she didn't. She went home to the States shortly before Monette divorced."

  That piece of information slid into place, leaving a space next to it that I needed to fill. "I know you're going to think this is really brash of me for asking, but why did Marvabelle decide to quit being a Guardian and go home?"

  Her fingers plucked at her linen skirt for a moment, then suddenly her eyes widened as she looked up in horror. "Oh! That could be it. Aisling, how did you know?"

  My scalp pricked at the look on her face as another piece of information slid into its waiting spot. "She was the woman you were telling me about the other night, wasn't she? She was the woman who was smitten with an incubus but found out before she'd given her soul to him, right? That was Marvabelle."

  She nodded, her face frozen. "You think she's the target."

  Cold swept through me. "I think she could be. It makes sense—you were both here, in Budapest. So that means only a local incubus could be the one she was dallying with. And if she rejected him, spurned him—"

  "He would want revenge," she said, her voice faint. "But would he go so far as to kill innocent Guardians?"

  I made a face. "Is there anything that says an incubus can't be a homicidal maniac?"

  "No. In fact, there is much evidence to prove that they often do kill their victims, although usually it is by sucking the life from them over a period of years."

  "If I'm right, then all I need to do is use my handy-dandy Venus amulet and summon up every incubus in town until we have the one who was Marvabelle's lover. I don't suppose you know his name?"

  She shook his head. "Marvabetle never told me."

  "Rats. Well, we'll just have to do this the hard way. You find Marvabelle and ask her to meet us in the executive conference room in ... oh, say an hour. It shouldn't be in use because everyone will be getting ready for the big dinner tonight. No, better make that two hours. I have to run into town and pick up the things you said I'd need for the binding spell, and given the afternoon traffic, I'll need the extra time. Ask Monish and Paolo to come, too. We'll want them once Marvabelle identifies the incubus."

  "Aisling—" Nora frowned. Obviously she wasn't entirely sold on the plan. "Do you really think Marvabelle is the target? What if she isn't?"

  I shrugged. "It's the only thing I can think of that fits. We'll just have to hope that I'm right."

  We parted a few minutes later, with Nora promising to find Marvabelle and Monish. Jim and I went to a shop recommended by Nora and bought the items she'd listed as being necessary for a binding spell. By the time we returned, I had only half an hour before I was due to summon up a posse of incubi.

  Drake's limo was in the driveway as the taxi driver (there hadn't been time to call Rene) dropped Jim and me off. I paid him and peered into one of the limo's open doors. It was empty. "Huh. I wonder if the dragons are leav—hey!"

  Drake, Istvan, and Pal marched out of the hotel, all three grim-faced. Drake didn't stop to greet me, he just wrapped an arm around my waist and more or less tossed me into the car.

  "What do you think you're doing?" I yelled, jumping out of the car. Drake stood next to the door, giving an instruction to Pill, who took Jim's leash. "That's my demon! Drake, what's going on?"

  "I have managed, by means that I will not go into now, to get Gabriel's agreement to participate in one last negotiation session. Gabriel spoke with Chuan Ren. She also grudgingly agreed to meet again, before she leaves. That meeting is tonight, now, at a neutral spot. You will come with me."

  "Wait a minute," I said, holding up my hands to stop him before he could throw me into the car again, "Didn't they tell you? I resigned as your mate. I'm no longer officially important to your negotiations."

  For the first time since I'd met him, Drake looked at me utterly exasperated. "Aisling, I have told you repeatedly that you were born to be my mate. In addition to that, you swore an oath to me, fealty to the sept. You cannot simply resign. There are only two ways your fealty can be dissolved, neither of which is you simply resigning. I have spoken to all three wyverns, at great cost to me, and they have agreed to drop the protest regarding your challenge. They have accepted you as my mate. Therefore, you will come with me now."

  "I can't," I said, my hands on his. "I wish I could, I really do, and I'm delighted that everyone is giving you another chance at hashing out a peace accord, but Drake, you don't need me. I'll just mess it up again. And even if I wanted to, I can't. Remember that little thing about me being handed over to the committee if I don't find the murderer? Well, I have"—I looked at my watch—"exactly five and a half hours to find him, and I can't do that and attend your peace meeting."

  Drake made an annoyed gesture, pushing me into the car. Jim was unceremoniously shoved into the front seat, between Pal and Istvan. "That does not matter. Dragons live beyond the rule of the committee. You are under my protection now. No one will harm you."

  I struggled to crawl over him, but he shoved me back, slamming the car door. "Drake! Goddamn it, you can't do this! Stop! Istvan, stop!"

  The car swept off with a subdued purr. I looked back at the hotel, cursing under my breath, uniformly damning headstrong dragons, bossy committee members, and murderous incubi. Drake's jaw was tight, his fingers clenched with tension, his eyes burning with a light that I'd never seen before.

  I took a deep breath and reminded myself that he had just as much at stake as I did, and therefore I would respect the urgency he felt. "I know how important this is to you. I understand and accept that you want me by your side. I know that as your mate, it is my duty to be there, supporting you. But there are bound to be times when I just can't be with you, and this is one of them. This is important."

  "No," he snapped, his eyes brittle with heat. "You do not understand. I have allowed you to pursue your interests because they did not interfere with mine, but that is at an end. You are my mate. My sept is your first priority. All else is secondary."

  My jaw dropped for a s
econd, then snapped shut with an audible clink of my teeth. I shoved Drake back from where he'd leaned over to snarl at me, my anger thoroughly roused. "Secondary? My career is secondary?"

  "Your career is being my mate."

  "Wrong!" I yelled, flinging off the possessive hand he wrapped around my wrist. "My career is being a Guardian. You agreed to that when I accepted the fact that I was your mate."

  "I never agreed to such a ridiculous thing," he yelled back at me. I was a little shocked—Drake never yelled— but I didn't have the time to mull over what that meant.

  "You did, too! That night in my dream, the night we spoke the oath—I agreed to be your mate, and you agreed to me being a Guardian."

  His eyes were so bright it almost hurt to look at them, but his voice dropped, to. a low, angry tone. "You asked that I, and I quote, 'make no more snarky comments' about you being a Guardian. Further, you asked that I not say or do anything to ruin your chance with a potential mentor. I promised never to say anything to a mentor that could be interpreted as being against your plans. That is all you asked of me, Aisling. And I have fulfilled those terms wholly and completely."

  I stared at him, too stunned, too filled with pain to comprehend what he was saying. "We swore an oath to each other," I whispered at last.

  "Yes." His face was as hard as the edge to his voice. "You swore to uphold the well-being of the sept. I swore to protect, honor, and respect you."

  He was a stranger. That wasn't Drake sitting there speaking in that cold voice. It had to be a stranger. Those were the thoughts that went around and around in my head with sickening regularity. "You knew how much I wanted this. You knew how important it was to me. You knew I was committed to being a Guardian. You agreed not to stop me."

  "I agreed not to say anything to a potential mentor. I haven't. By no stretch of the imagination does that mean I endorse you being a Guardian. I never have, nor have I made secret my feelings."

  I thought back to that night, to that dream, when I was so happy because Drake said he was willing to negotiate with me. The conversation we had repeated in my head, and again I heard his voice agreeing to something less than what I had intended.

  He had betrayed me. He had fooled me into thinking he was agreeing to my terms, when all along he was using me for his own purpose.

  A little voice in my head pointed out that if I had been less lust-crazed, I might have noticed the difference in what I was saying and what he said. I acknowledged that as true. I acknowledged my own responsibility with the situation. I had sworn an oath to Drake and his sept.

  But he had betrayed me.

  My eyes sought his. They were cold, like green ice, and within them I could see the depth of his determination, his resolve, and his intent. He was fighting for the life of his clan, fighting against almost impossible odds to form a peace not for his own good, not for selfish reasons, but for the good of all people, dragon-born and mortal. I understood what he was doing. I understood why he did what he did.

  But he had betrayed me, and I could not forgive that.

  I closed my eyes on the tears that welled out from between my lashes and pulled hard on his fire, allowing it to fill me, consume me, burn every last tear inside me until it burst forth with a roar of anguish that filled the night sky— and that set fire to the limousine.

  Istvan slammed to a stop in the middle of a street, Pal already dragging Jim from the car. Drake swore and kicked open the door, yelling, "You foolish woman! You'll set the gas tank alight! This close to other cars you'll kill who knows how many people!"

  I didn't wait for him to drag me out. I threw myself out the other side of the car, yelling an order to Jim as I ran along the median, dashing between cars, bouncing off a sedan to fall onto the pavement on the other side of the road, tears streaming down my face as I ignored the sound of Drake shouting after me. I knew him. He might be a thief, he might be a liar, he might be the sort of man who would betray the woman who loved him if he felt the reason was good enough, but he would not willingly walk away and allow innocent people to die.

  "Fires of Abaddon, Aisling!" Jim panted as it reached my side. It took one look at my face and shut up, following me as I ran down streets, cutting through markets, dashing in front of cars, racing around corners until I had no idea where I was or where I'd come from.

  At least I had lost Drake.

  My heart, frozen in a block of disbelief, shattered at the realization that I had, indeed, lost Drake. I fell to my knees right there in the middle of the street, sobbing with the realization of what had happened. I had given Drake everything, I had sworn my allegiance to him, I had agreed to become his mate, I had fallen in love with the damned scaly lizard, and he betrayed me.

  Tires squealed on asphalt as a car slammed to a stop a few inches away from me, the driver's swearing audible even over the hum of the engine.

  "Ash?"

  Jim's voice was unusually gentle.

  "Ash, come on. You're in the street. I know you don't care about getting run over, but you're immortal now, and if one of these cars hits you and you crumple the bumper, you're going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do."

  "Aisling." Another voice spoke.

  What was I going to do now? How was I supposed to fix things? Dammit, why was everything my responsibility? Why was I the only one who could make things right? Drake had betrayed me, but wasn't I guilty of the same thing by refusing him? It felt in my heart like betrayal, but I just couldn't see any other way out of the situation. There was more at stake here than just Drake and me—there was my promise to find the murderer before he killed another innocent Guardian. The dragon sept had my fealty, but how could I live with myself if the murderer struck again because I had been so busy with the dragons that I hadn't the time to stop him?

  "Aisling Grey." I looked up at the sound of my name. Rene stood before me in the headlights of the car, his hand extended to me. "Come along. The street is no place for you,"

  I took his hand, clinging to the warmth of it, wanting nothing more than to throw myself into Rene's arms and beg him to take me to the airport so I could leave. "Drake betrayed me," I said.

  He nodded. "I know what he has done. It is yet another bump in the road, heinV

  "No, Rene," I said, wiping the tears off my face with my sleeve. 'This isn't a bump. It's a dead end."

  "It seems that way, yes, but in time, I think, you will see things with the different eyes," he answered, getting into the front seat. Jim hopped up beside me, yanking the door handle with its mouth.

  Rene didn't say anything else as he drove me to Margaret Island. I sat in silence, my thoughts so painful I couldn't stand thinking them, so I didn't. I pushed them all aside, idly watching the play of lights on the back of Rene's head. He was such a nice man. So unlike the people of the Otherworld. So normal.

  I glanced down to where I my hand was clutching the jade dragon talisman. Alongside it was the crystal Venus amulet. "Why aren't you affected by the amulet, Rene?"

  His head turned a little so he could see me in the rearview mirror.

  "What?"

  I looked down at the amulet again, then back to him. "Why aren't you affected by this? Every other mortal man is. Everyone except you and ..."

  My mind snapped into place, just as if it had been dislocated and now pushed back into the proper position. One moment I was wondering why Rene wasn't affected by the amulet, the next I saw an image of Gyorgy, the other man who wasn't affected by it. Gyorgy the woodsman. Gyorgy the hermit, the man who seldom left his claimed spot of land, but a man who had admitted to being at the hotel.

  Jacob's voice played through my thoughts. "When we take human form, we are as humans."

  Gyorgy looked human to me. He felt human. But he smelled like a campfire—smoky.

  I rubbed my head. No, that wasn't right. Jacob had named all of the other eleven incubi in his order. "Twelve brothers, twelve sisters..." I repeated, my eyes closing when I realized how stupid I'd been. "And one le
ader. The morpheus. That has to be Gyorgy. Mother Mary and all the saints ... Rene! Screw the traffic laws—get me to the hotel as soon as you can! I know who the murderer is!"

  What was probably a ten-minute drive seemed to me to take aeons. By the time Rene pulled up in front of the hotel, I was shouting orders to Jim. "The final dinner has already started. You can run faster than me—go to the ballroom and find Nora or Monish. Tell them I know who the murderer is. Tell them to watch out for Marvabelle. And Tiffany, for that matter!"

  Jim was off in a black flurry. I ran after the demon, Rene beside me as T raced down the stairs to the conference level. "You don't have to be here!"

  "I am your friend. I will stand by you. You might need me as before, heinT

  "I will always need you, Rene." I leaped off the last step, haring down the long hallway to the double doors at the end that marked the main entrance to the ballroom,

  I threw the door open, racing inside, praying that I wasn't too late. Jacob had said that the morpheus was the only one who did not need to be summoned to arrive— which meant he could attack anytime he chose. A group of people stood in a clutch before me, blocking my path. I shoved my way through them, scattering apologies behind me as I burst out into the center of the floor, cleared for the evening's presentation, and came to a skidding halt.

  Eh-. Kostich was at the podium, holding a piece of paper, reading a list of names into the microphone. He turned to look at me. I stared back at him, then slowly turned my head and saw that all two thousand of the Guardians, oracles, Diviners, Theurgists, and. Mages were watching me with hushed disbelief.

  I realized at that moment that my brush with Drake's fire, subsequent race through the city, and occasional contact with vehicles as I rebounded off them had not left me untouched. The thin gauze dress I wore was dirty, smeared with oil and grime from the road, torn along one side where I'd caught it on the edge of a car, and scorched black on the hem. My hands were black with soot and dirt. My hair had come loose and was flying around in clumps. My nose was running from crying.