Fire Me Up
Page 8
Jim started to tell the woman that I was its demon lord, but I interrupted it before it could blather that news to everyone. "Sure. No problem. I'm not really hip with dark magic. I'm just here to find a Guardian mentor."
The woman tapped a few keys on the laptop computer sitting next to the registration materials, and a printer at the end of the table hummed to life. She pulled a piece of what looked like parchment from it, sliding it toward me along with an old-fashioned nib pen.
"Kind of an odd mixture of high-tech and quasi-medieval, huh?" I commented, waving at the printed parchment with the pen.
She just looked pointedly at the paper.
In the upper corner of the sheet was my name, written in a beautiful, ornate calligraphic font In the center was drawn the same elaborate nine-pointed star that the conference workers wore, I looked closer at the pen and realized that it wasn't a pen at all. It was a lance, the sort diabetics use to get a drop of blood for testing. "Uh—"
"You must seal the agreement in blood," the woman said in an annoyed, put-upon voice. "Failure to do so will result in ejection from the conference."
"Heaven forbid," I murmured as I jabbed my thumb with the lance. "Where do you want it?"
"In the nonagram." I blinked. She sighed. "A nona-gram is a nine-pointed star. It is the symbol of studied achievement, which is part of the motto of the GOD-TAM."
Without further ado I pressed the bead of blood into the center of the star. The parchment must have had some magic worked on it, because the second my blood touched it, I was overtaken by the sensation of silken cords wrapping around and around me.
"What—was that—?" I rubbed my arms. Despite the fact that I could see there was nothing on me other than my clothing, the feeling of the bonds remained.
"You are now bound by the covenant of the GOD-TAM," the registration woman intoned in a bored voice. "Welcome to the conference, and blessed be. Next!"
"Oh. Does my demon need to be bound as well?"
"Demons cannot be bound in such a manner. You are responsible for its behavior. NEXT!"
Jim and I passed through the doors into the main conference area, following a group of men in expensive, well-tailored suits.
"Mages," Jim said in an undertone, its eyes on the men.
"Really? How can you tell?"
"Their shoes. Mages go in for Italian footwear. So do dragons, but those guys don't smell like dragons."
I slid a curious glance down to Jim, walking at my side. "Just what exactly do dragons smell like?"
It lifted a furry black lip in a sneer. "You ought to know, you've spent enough time with your nose buried in Drake's—"
"Jim!" I shrieked.
"—neck."
I pinched the thick skin on its back. "Just forget I asked, OK? Shall we mingle?"
"Oh, yeah. Are those hors d'oeuvres for everyone? I'm gonna get me some before I starve to death." Jim shimmied toward a waiter wandering through the gathering crowd offering a tray of tall champagne flutes and another with tiny canapes.
"Save room for dinner!" I called after the demon, then stood looking around at everyone in their suits and chic outfits, feeling very out of place, very bumpkin visiting polished town cousins.
"Hullo. You're a Guardian, too? Is this your first time?"
I turned at the friendly singsong voice. A tall blond woman wearing a slinky black dress smiled at me. She looked like a Barbie doll come to life, a Scandinavian Barbie doll, if her accent was anything to go by. "Yes, to both questions, although the first one is kind of iffy. I'm Aisling. I'm actually here looking for a mentor."
"Really?" She eyed me from crown to toes, walking a circle around me to get a better look. I wished I had put on my brown power suit. It might not be a sexy little black dress, but at least T looked professional in il. "I have been thinking it time to take on an apprentice. We might suit. I am Moa. I am from Berge, Sweden. You have completed the ritual?"
"Ritual?" I bit my lip. "I've done a couple of rituals. I summoned a demon, and later I almost summoned a demon lord—"
"No." She waved away my paranormal resume with an elegant scarlet-tipped hand. "The ritual. The test that all apprentices must pass in order to begin formal training. You have not passed it?"
Oh, great. There was a test I had to pass just to sign up to be an apprentice? Why did no one ever tell me these things? "No, I haven't passed it. I didn't know anything about it until you mentioned it. Is it difficult? How long will it take? I don't have a lot of time to spend studying. Is there a cheat sheet I can buy somewhere?"
Her tips pursed as she pulled out a thin gold notebook, flipping through the pages until she came to one she liked. "I have time tomorrow after the panel on troll rehabilitation but before the demon-tormenting workshop. Shall we make an appointment to meet then? I will discuss with you the ritual and my requirements in an apprentice."
"Great," I said, watching as she extracted a gold pen from the notebook and made a note. "Maybe we can sit together at the demon-tormenting thing."
She gave me a blinding smile. "Yes, it is always nice to have an acquaintance at torture workshops. Be sure to bring a plastic raincoat. Until tomorrow, Aisling."
"Thanks. I look forward to it."
She headed off toward the Mages in expensive suits, leaving me standing by myself, feeling even more at sea than I had in the last month.
But at least I had an appointment with a potential mentor! At last things were looking up.
By the time the evening was over, I'd been stabbed, propositioned more times than I could count, and had my amulet stolen.
And that was before the real action started.
"Hello, I am Tiffany. You're a Guardian, aren't you? Here is my card. I am a professional virgin. You will please let me know if you have any need of my services." The pretty blond woman who sat next to me at the large round table smiled an aggressive smile full of teeth and passed business cards out to everyone at the table, laying one in front of Jim's plate. "Is that your demon? How large it is! I knew a Guardian once who had a pet demon, but it killed her one night when she was cooking a lobster. The demon tossed her into the pot of boiling water. It was very sad. I wept pearly tears of sorrow."
The woman tapped a few keys on the laptop computer sitting next to the registration materials, and a printer at the end of the table hummed to life. She pulled a piece of what looked like parchment from it, sliding it toward me along with an old-fashioned nib pen.
"Kind of an odd mixture of high-tech and quasi-medieval, huh?" I commented, waving at the printed parchment with the pen.
She just looked pointedly at the paper.
In the upper corner of the sheet was my name, written in a beautiful, ornate calligraphic font In the center was drawn the same elaborate nine-pointed star that the conference workers wore, I looked closer at the pen and realized that it wasn't a pen at all. It was a lance, the sort diabetics use to get a drop of blood for testing. "Uh—"
"You must seal the agreement in blood," the woman said in an annoyed, put-upon voice. "Failure to do so will result in ejection from the conference."
"Heaven forbid," I murmured as I jabbed my thumb with the lance. "Where do you want it?"
"In the nonagram." I blinked. She sighed. "A nona-gram is a nine-pointed star. It is the symbol of studied achievement, which is part of the motto of the GOD-TAM."
Without further ado I pressed the bead of blood into the center of the star. The parchment must have had some magic worked on it, because the second my blood touched it, I was overtaken by the sensation of silken cords wrapping around and around me.
"What—was that—?" I rubbed my arms. Despite the fact that I could see there was nothing on me other than my clothing, the feeling of the bonds remained.
"You are now bound by the covenant of the GOD-TAM," the registration woman intoned in a bored voice. "Welcome to the conference, and blessed be. Next!"
"Oh. Does my demon need to be bound as well?"
"Demons cannot be bound in such a manner. You are responsible for its behavior. NEXT!"
Jim and I passed through the doors into the main conference area, following a group of men in expensive, well-tailored suits.
"Mages," Jim said in an undertone, its eyes on the men.
"Really? How can you tell?"
"Their shoes. Mages go in for Italian footwear. So do dragons, but those guys don't smell like dragons."
I slid a curious glance down to Jim, walking at my side. "Just what exactly do dragons smell like?"
It lifted a furry black lip in a sneer. "You ought to know, you've spent enough time with your nose buried in Drake's—"
"Jim!" I shrieked.
"—neck."
I pinched the thick skin on its back. "Just forget I asked, OK? Shall we mingle?"
"Oh, yeah. Are those hors d'oeuvres for everyone? I'm gonna get me some before I starve to death." Jim shimmied toward a waiter wandering through the gathering crowd offering a tray of tall champagne flutes and another with tiny canapes.
"Save room for dinner!" I called after the demon, then stood looking around at everyone in their suits and chic outfits, feeling very out of place, very bumpkin visiting polished town cousins.
"Hullo. You're a Guardian, too? Is this your first time?"
I turned at the friendly singsong voice. A tall blond woman wearing a slinky black dress smiled at me. She looked like a Barbie doll come to life, a Scandinavian Barbie doll, if her accent was anything to go by. "Yes, to both questions, although the first one is kind of iffy. I'm Aisling. I'm actually here looking for a mentor."
"Really?" She eyed me from crown to toes, walking a circle around me to get a better look. I wished I had put on my brown power suit. It might not be a sexy little black dress, but at least T looked professional in il. "I have been thinking it time to take on an apprentice. We might suit. I am Moa. I am from Berge, Sweden. You have completed the ritual?"
"Ritual?" I bit my lip. "I've done a couple of rituals. I summoned a demon, and later I almost summoned a demon lord—"
"No." She waved away my paranormal resume with an elegant scarlet-tipped hand. "The ritual. The test that all apprentices must pass in order to begin formal training. You have not passed it?"
Oh, great. There was a test I had to pass just to sign up to be an apprentice? Why did no one ever tell me these things? "No, I haven't passed it. I didn't know anything about it until you mentioned it. Is it difficult? How long will it take? I don't have a lot of time to spend studying. Is there a cheat sheet I can buy somewhere?"
Her tips pursed as she pulled out a thin gold notebook, flipping through the pages until she came to one she liked. "I have time tomorrow after the panel on troll rehabilitation but before the demon-tormenting workshop. Shall we make an appointment to meet then? I will discuss with you the ritual and my requirements in an apprentice."
"Great," I said, watching as she extracted a gold pen from the notebook and made a note. "Maybe we can sit together at the demon-tormenting thing."
She gave me a blinding smile. "Yes, it is always nice to have an acquaintance at torture workshops. Be sure to bring a plastic raincoat. Until tomorrow, Aisling."
"Thanks. I look forward to it."
She headed off toward the Mages in expensive suits, leaving me standing by myself, feeling even more at sea than I had in the last month.
But at least I had an appointment with a potential mentor! At last things were looking up.
By the time the evening was over, I'd been stabbed, propositioned more times than I could count, and had my amulet stolen.
And that was before the real action started.
"Hello, I am Tiffany. You're a Guardian, aren't you? Here is my card. I am a professional virgin. You will please let me know if you have any need of my services." The pretty blond woman who sat next to me at the large round table smiled an aggressive smile full of teeth and passed business cards out to everyone at the table, laying one in front of Jim's plate. "Is that your demon? How large it is! I knew a Guardian once who had a pet demon, but it killed her one night when she was cooking a lobster. The demon tossed her into the pot of boiling water. It was very sad. I wept pearly tears of sorrow."
