Holy Smokes
Page 62
I had been ordered to the other side of the cavern, something I was grateful for as I picked my way through the debris. Drake held out a hand for me, following as Kostya led the way into the now-opened room.
“Now this is creepy,” I said, looking around the brightly lit room with a sense of something seriously awry. The walls were stuccoed a pale beige. Lights built into the ceiling beamed cheerfully down on a tasteful living room suite of blue tweed. A flat screen TV was attached to one wall, while bookcases lined two other walls. Behind us, a small dining room table sat with four chairs. An entrance led to what I assumed was a small kitchen.
“This is…someone’s apartment?” I asked, noting the signs of occupancy. A large ashtray on a coffee table bore several cigar stubs. A glass of whisky sat next to an oversized chair, a book resting on the arm of the chair, as if its owner had set it down for a moment.
“That’s what it looks like,” Drake said, opening a door and flipping on a light. A large bed dominated the inner room. “The question is, who lives here?”
Kostya picked up the book, flipping through it. “Whoever it is, he reads Latin. Not a very pleasant reading choice, either.”
I peered over his shoulder to read the title. He handed me the book as he went to scan the bookcase. “Huh. He’s reading a grimoire. I haven’t seen this one before. It looks like it was just printed. I wonder who the publisher is.”
Drake and his men opened the two other doors of the apartment, not finding anything of interest. I flipped the book open to the title page. “Ah. Bookplate. Uh…Drake? I think you need to see this.”
“Let me have it,” Kostya said, taking the book without so much as a “please” slipping past his lips.
He stared at the embossed plate on the inner front of the book, a pallor washing over his face.
Jim put its front legs on the chair and peered over Kostya’s arm. “Oh, man.”
“Who does it belong to?” Drake asked, shuffling through a stack of papers on a small mahogany desk.
“There’s just one name,” I said, pulling the book from Kostya’s bloodless fingers. His eyes were wide and staring, looking inward at something only he could see.
Jim backed away, its expression wary.
“Yes? What name?”
I held the book out to Drake. “Baltic.”
22
“Tell me again why we’re doing this if I can share your fire? Doesn’t that mean I’m not Fiat’s mate, and we don’t have to worry about him any longer?”
“The circumstances lead me to believe that is so, but until I know for certain that Fiat has no claim over you, we will proceed.”
I sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have something we can use to ensure his good behavior.”
It had been a long two hours. Dealing with the door to Fiat’s lair would have been tough enough without having four dragons in denial as we worked to break through the intricate protections Fiat had used to safeguard his hoard.
“Fiat must have come by some of Baltic’s library,” Drake insisted, pacing behind where I sat as the four demons I had summoned worked on unmaking the last of the wards. Demons can’t, as a rule, unmake a ward, unless the wards drawn were of a demonic nature, which surprisingly these were. The prohibition—a weakish sort of curse—had already been lifted, as well as the curse proper; those required a creature of dark being to create them, and thus, assuming you had the capability of summoning and commanding demons, were easily destroyed. “There can be no other rational explanation. Baltic is dead. I saw him die. He was cleaved in two. Not even a dragon can survive that.”
“Yeah, well, Gabriel thinks he’s alive. Maybe he wasn’t cleaved all the way through?” I said, watching the demons as they unmade the last ward.
Drake whirled around to face me, Kostya leaping up from where he’d been sitting on a rock. “What did you say?”
“I said Gabriel thinks Baltic is alive. I told you on the way down from that aerie about the conversation I had with him.”
Drake rubbed his eyes for a moment. “I was tired and not listening as well as I ought. Are you sure he said Baltic was alive?”
“Well…he didn’t say that in so many words, but he spoke of Baltic in the present tense. I got the distinct feeling the guy was still alive and kicking.”
Drake and Kostya exchanged glances.
“You both were there when you saw him die?” I asked, momentarily distracted from the puzzle of Fiat’s lair door.
“Yes,” Drake answered, looking away.
“Oh, like that’s not a red flag she’s gonna pounce on?” Jim asked from where it lay on my feet. It shook its big furry head.
I crossed my arms. “Go on. You know I’m not going to leave it alone until you tell me about it.”
“This is none of your business,” Kostya said firmly, marching over to glare at the demons.
Drake pinched his lip.
“Sweetie?” I asked, waiting for him to spill.
“Technically, he’s right. It has nothing to do with the green dragons—”
I stopped him. “If it includes you, it’s my business.”
He was silent.
“Oh, go on and tell us,” Jim urged. “You know Princess Nosy isn’t going to be happy until you spill, and I gotta admit, I’m a bit curious, too. We never got news of dragon stuff in Abaddon. Except the plagues, of course, which ticked off the lords because they thought you guys were encroaching on demon territory. But other than that—nada.”
“You know I hate to agree with Jim on the sheer principle of the thing, and I won’t soon forget that Princess Nosy comment, but what did happen to Baltic?”
Drake was silent for a handful of seconds, then said simply, “Kostya killed him.”
I thought my eyes were going to bug right out of my head. “Kostya killed Baltic? Your brother Kostya, not some strange Kostya I don’t know about?”
He nodded.
I looked at the man pacing back and forth behind the demons as they worked. “But…he’s a black dragon! Baltic was his wyvern! You can kill your own wyverns? Isn’t that, like, really bad?”
“Yes. It is not something that is done often, and it’s not a subject I am prepared to discuss with you at this time. You wished to possess the facts, and now you do. Explanations will have to wait.”
“Now this is creepy,” I said, looking around the brightly lit room with a sense of something seriously awry. The walls were stuccoed a pale beige. Lights built into the ceiling beamed cheerfully down on a tasteful living room suite of blue tweed. A flat screen TV was attached to one wall, while bookcases lined two other walls. Behind us, a small dining room table sat with four chairs. An entrance led to what I assumed was a small kitchen.
“This is…someone’s apartment?” I asked, noting the signs of occupancy. A large ashtray on a coffee table bore several cigar stubs. A glass of whisky sat next to an oversized chair, a book resting on the arm of the chair, as if its owner had set it down for a moment.
“That’s what it looks like,” Drake said, opening a door and flipping on a light. A large bed dominated the inner room. “The question is, who lives here?”
Kostya picked up the book, flipping through it. “Whoever it is, he reads Latin. Not a very pleasant reading choice, either.”
I peered over his shoulder to read the title. He handed me the book as he went to scan the bookcase. “Huh. He’s reading a grimoire. I haven’t seen this one before. It looks like it was just printed. I wonder who the publisher is.”
Drake and his men opened the two other doors of the apartment, not finding anything of interest. I flipped the book open to the title page. “Ah. Bookplate. Uh…Drake? I think you need to see this.”
“Let me have it,” Kostya said, taking the book without so much as a “please” slipping past his lips.
He stared at the embossed plate on the inner front of the book, a pallor washing over his face.
Jim put its front legs on the chair and peered over Kostya’s arm. “Oh, man.”
“Who does it belong to?” Drake asked, shuffling through a stack of papers on a small mahogany desk.
“There’s just one name,” I said, pulling the book from Kostya’s bloodless fingers. His eyes were wide and staring, looking inward at something only he could see.
Jim backed away, its expression wary.
“Yes? What name?”
I held the book out to Drake. “Baltic.”
22
“Tell me again why we’re doing this if I can share your fire? Doesn’t that mean I’m not Fiat’s mate, and we don’t have to worry about him any longer?”
“The circumstances lead me to believe that is so, but until I know for certain that Fiat has no claim over you, we will proceed.”
I sighed. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to have something we can use to ensure his good behavior.”
It had been a long two hours. Dealing with the door to Fiat’s lair would have been tough enough without having four dragons in denial as we worked to break through the intricate protections Fiat had used to safeguard his hoard.
“Fiat must have come by some of Baltic’s library,” Drake insisted, pacing behind where I sat as the four demons I had summoned worked on unmaking the last of the wards. Demons can’t, as a rule, unmake a ward, unless the wards drawn were of a demonic nature, which surprisingly these were. The prohibition—a weakish sort of curse—had already been lifted, as well as the curse proper; those required a creature of dark being to create them, and thus, assuming you had the capability of summoning and commanding demons, were easily destroyed. “There can be no other rational explanation. Baltic is dead. I saw him die. He was cleaved in two. Not even a dragon can survive that.”
“Yeah, well, Gabriel thinks he’s alive. Maybe he wasn’t cleaved all the way through?” I said, watching the demons as they unmade the last ward.
Drake whirled around to face me, Kostya leaping up from where he’d been sitting on a rock. “What did you say?”
“I said Gabriel thinks Baltic is alive. I told you on the way down from that aerie about the conversation I had with him.”
Drake rubbed his eyes for a moment. “I was tired and not listening as well as I ought. Are you sure he said Baltic was alive?”
“Well…he didn’t say that in so many words, but he spoke of Baltic in the present tense. I got the distinct feeling the guy was still alive and kicking.”
Drake and Kostya exchanged glances.
“You both were there when you saw him die?” I asked, momentarily distracted from the puzzle of Fiat’s lair door.
“Yes,” Drake answered, looking away.
“Oh, like that’s not a red flag she’s gonna pounce on?” Jim asked from where it lay on my feet. It shook its big furry head.
I crossed my arms. “Go on. You know I’m not going to leave it alone until you tell me about it.”
“This is none of your business,” Kostya said firmly, marching over to glare at the demons.
Drake pinched his lip.
“Sweetie?” I asked, waiting for him to spill.
“Technically, he’s right. It has nothing to do with the green dragons—”
I stopped him. “If it includes you, it’s my business.”
He was silent.
“Oh, go on and tell us,” Jim urged. “You know Princess Nosy isn’t going to be happy until you spill, and I gotta admit, I’m a bit curious, too. We never got news of dragon stuff in Abaddon. Except the plagues, of course, which ticked off the lords because they thought you guys were encroaching on demon territory. But other than that—nada.”
“You know I hate to agree with Jim on the sheer principle of the thing, and I won’t soon forget that Princess Nosy comment, but what did happen to Baltic?”
Drake was silent for a handful of seconds, then said simply, “Kostya killed him.”
I thought my eyes were going to bug right out of my head. “Kostya killed Baltic? Your brother Kostya, not some strange Kostya I don’t know about?”
He nodded.
I looked at the man pacing back and forth behind the demons as they worked. “But…he’s a black dragon! Baltic was his wyvern! You can kill your own wyverns? Isn’t that, like, really bad?”
“Yes. It is not something that is done often, and it’s not a subject I am prepared to discuss with you at this time. You wished to possess the facts, and now you do. Explanations will have to wait.”
