Holy Smokes
Page 75
“Well, I guess I’ll pay wherever Bael wants, although I’d like to get this over with quickly.”
Jim, the two demons, and Rene all looked at me as if I was suddenly speaking in Serbo-Croatian.
“What have I said now?” I asked them.
“Wer is the name of the payment that Bael has asked. It is not a location, you understand?” Rene explained.
“Oh. Sorry. Um, yes, I’ve come to pay the wer.”
The demons nodded and turned on their heels, clearly expecting us to follow.
“Don’t say it,” I warned Jim as it opened its mouth. “I’d just like to remind all of you that no one bothered to give me the Big Demon Lord’s Book of Archaic Lingo, so I’m a little clueless when it comes to unnecessary terms that people use just to impress others.”
I could have sworn I heard Jim say, “A little clueless?” as we entered the hall, but I had more important things to worry about than a few snipes from my demon.
Bael was waiting for us when we were shown into his room, his eyes lighting on the case I held firmly with both hands. “I see you have brought the Tools. Excellent. And the sacrifice?”
I cleared my throat. I was dreading this moment, hoping against hope that some brilliantly cunning plan would occur to me that would allow me to escape from Bael’s hold without the loss of my Guardian abilities. Unfortunately, nothing struck me. Drake was just as much at a loss as I was, and al though I badly wanted to call Nora for advice, pride kept me from blubbering all over her about what my own folly had wrought.
You don’t have to do this, you know.
“The sacrifice…I’m ready,” I said, lifting my chin and meeting Bael’s eyes even though my soul wept.
Such drama over something for which you have a simple solution.
“Very well. You may proceed,” Bael said, leaning back in his chair, his fingertips tapping together.
Uncle Damian gave me an abrupt nod and squeezed my shoulder for a moment. Rene watched me with sad eyes. Jim leaned on my leg and rubbed its head on my knee.
Let’s talk this over before you commit yourself to an action you’ll later regret.
I set the case down on the table next to Bael, opening the lid and removing the protective layer of foam. “As part of the terms of our agreement, I give to you the three items known collectively as the Tools of Bael: the Anima di Lucifer, the Occio di Lucifer, and the Voce di Lucifer.”
You know, if you kept them for yourself, you could defeat Bael and truly reign supreme in Abaddon. Think what changes you could make!
“The blood, eye, and voice of Lucifer,” Bael said, satisfaction dripping from his voice as he reached out a long finger and touched the golden aquamanile that was shaped like a dragon. “How nice it is to have them back.”
You are foolish, Aisling Grey. So foolish.
I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I was a strong, confident woman even if I was about to relinquish one of the most important things in my life.
Don’t make a hasty decision. There are so many other options—
“In accordance with the second term of our agreement, I hereby renounce my Guardian powers, doing so of my free will. From this moment on, I will no longer be a Guardian.”
Fame, fortune, happiness—working with me, you can have it all.
My voice cracked midway through my disavowal, but I made it without breaking down and crying. I clung to that fact, and to the knowledge that soon I’d be rid of the dark power forever.
You will never be rid of me. I am part of you. Nothing you can do will change that.
“There now, that didn’t hurt so much, did it?” Bael asked, his voice light with mockery.
“There’s no need to gloat,” Uncle Damian said, his voice a bit rusty. “Aisling’s done what you asked. Now you keep your part of the bargain.”
Bael didn’t even glance at him, but he casually pulled a piece of parchment toward himself, signing below five other signatures.
This is not the last you will hear of me! I will not be—
The voice inside my head suddenly stopped as Bael lifted his pen.
“It is done,” he said, pushing the parchment toward me. It bore six signatures on it, Bael’s the largest, at the bottom, and no surprise—signed in blood. “It saddens me, but henceforth you will no longer be known as a prince of Abaddon. You are expulsed, Aisling Grey. Now if you don’t mind, I have the important job of finding your replacement.”
I stood a bit stunned for a moment, watching him for some sign of trickery. It wasn’t until my uncle took my arm and forcibly steered me out of the room and down the great hall that I realized I had done it—it had cost me a sum without measure, but I had done it. I was no longer a prince of Abaddon! The dark power could never tempt me again.
I waited a moment for it to say something snarky, but all was silent in my head.
“Are you all right?” Uncle Damian asked as he hustled me out the front door, back to Rene’s car.
“I think she’s inner monologuing,” Jim said, jumping into the backseat. “Dark power’s gone, huh?”
“Yes,” I said, a strange, light euphoria filling me even as I felt tremendously saddened. “But…does anyone else find this whole thing really anticlimactic? Almost as if…as if it was planned to end this way?”
“Kinda makes you think, huh?” Jim asked as I took my seat in the car.
“Yes. And I don’t like what I’m thinking.”
“What is that?” Rene asked, pulling away from the house.
“That Bael was taking me for a ride all along. He had to know I had given the Tools to Drake…who’s to say he didn’t arrange for me to become a prince of Abaddon just so one day, I’d barter the Tools for my freedom?”
Rene looked thoughtful. Uncle Damian grunted something about not worrying over spilt milk, but worry was one of the things I did best.
I looked down at the parchment I held in my hand. “So now what? We take this to the Court?”
“Oui. Although your uncle and Jim, they will not be allowed in. Mortals are seldom let in, and as for the demons, eh. You can imagine that they are not welcome.”
“Hypocrites,” Jim muttered, stepping on the window opener so it could stick its head out.
“Gotcha. You OK with that, Uncle Damian?”
“Drake said I would not be let in, but that you would be safe there. I will read the paper while you’re taking care of your business.”
Jim, the two demons, and Rene all looked at me as if I was suddenly speaking in Serbo-Croatian.
“What have I said now?” I asked them.
“Wer is the name of the payment that Bael has asked. It is not a location, you understand?” Rene explained.
“Oh. Sorry. Um, yes, I’ve come to pay the wer.”
The demons nodded and turned on their heels, clearly expecting us to follow.
“Don’t say it,” I warned Jim as it opened its mouth. “I’d just like to remind all of you that no one bothered to give me the Big Demon Lord’s Book of Archaic Lingo, so I’m a little clueless when it comes to unnecessary terms that people use just to impress others.”
I could have sworn I heard Jim say, “A little clueless?” as we entered the hall, but I had more important things to worry about than a few snipes from my demon.
Bael was waiting for us when we were shown into his room, his eyes lighting on the case I held firmly with both hands. “I see you have brought the Tools. Excellent. And the sacrifice?”
I cleared my throat. I was dreading this moment, hoping against hope that some brilliantly cunning plan would occur to me that would allow me to escape from Bael’s hold without the loss of my Guardian abilities. Unfortunately, nothing struck me. Drake was just as much at a loss as I was, and al though I badly wanted to call Nora for advice, pride kept me from blubbering all over her about what my own folly had wrought.
You don’t have to do this, you know.
“The sacrifice…I’m ready,” I said, lifting my chin and meeting Bael’s eyes even though my soul wept.
Such drama over something for which you have a simple solution.
“Very well. You may proceed,” Bael said, leaning back in his chair, his fingertips tapping together.
Uncle Damian gave me an abrupt nod and squeezed my shoulder for a moment. Rene watched me with sad eyes. Jim leaned on my leg and rubbed its head on my knee.
Let’s talk this over before you commit yourself to an action you’ll later regret.
I set the case down on the table next to Bael, opening the lid and removing the protective layer of foam. “As part of the terms of our agreement, I give to you the three items known collectively as the Tools of Bael: the Anima di Lucifer, the Occio di Lucifer, and the Voce di Lucifer.”
You know, if you kept them for yourself, you could defeat Bael and truly reign supreme in Abaddon. Think what changes you could make!
“The blood, eye, and voice of Lucifer,” Bael said, satisfaction dripping from his voice as he reached out a long finger and touched the golden aquamanile that was shaped like a dragon. “How nice it is to have them back.”
You are foolish, Aisling Grey. So foolish.
I took a deep breath, reminding myself that I was a strong, confident woman even if I was about to relinquish one of the most important things in my life.
Don’t make a hasty decision. There are so many other options—
“In accordance with the second term of our agreement, I hereby renounce my Guardian powers, doing so of my free will. From this moment on, I will no longer be a Guardian.”
Fame, fortune, happiness—working with me, you can have it all.
My voice cracked midway through my disavowal, but I made it without breaking down and crying. I clung to that fact, and to the knowledge that soon I’d be rid of the dark power forever.
You will never be rid of me. I am part of you. Nothing you can do will change that.
“There now, that didn’t hurt so much, did it?” Bael asked, his voice light with mockery.
“There’s no need to gloat,” Uncle Damian said, his voice a bit rusty. “Aisling’s done what you asked. Now you keep your part of the bargain.”
Bael didn’t even glance at him, but he casually pulled a piece of parchment toward himself, signing below five other signatures.
This is not the last you will hear of me! I will not be—
The voice inside my head suddenly stopped as Bael lifted his pen.
“It is done,” he said, pushing the parchment toward me. It bore six signatures on it, Bael’s the largest, at the bottom, and no surprise—signed in blood. “It saddens me, but henceforth you will no longer be known as a prince of Abaddon. You are expulsed, Aisling Grey. Now if you don’t mind, I have the important job of finding your replacement.”
I stood a bit stunned for a moment, watching him for some sign of trickery. It wasn’t until my uncle took my arm and forcibly steered me out of the room and down the great hall that I realized I had done it—it had cost me a sum without measure, but I had done it. I was no longer a prince of Abaddon! The dark power could never tempt me again.
I waited a moment for it to say something snarky, but all was silent in my head.
“Are you all right?” Uncle Damian asked as he hustled me out the front door, back to Rene’s car.
“I think she’s inner monologuing,” Jim said, jumping into the backseat. “Dark power’s gone, huh?”
“Yes,” I said, a strange, light euphoria filling me even as I felt tremendously saddened. “But…does anyone else find this whole thing really anticlimactic? Almost as if…as if it was planned to end this way?”
“Kinda makes you think, huh?” Jim asked as I took my seat in the car.
“Yes. And I don’t like what I’m thinking.”
“What is that?” Rene asked, pulling away from the house.
“That Bael was taking me for a ride all along. He had to know I had given the Tools to Drake…who’s to say he didn’t arrange for me to become a prince of Abaddon just so one day, I’d barter the Tools for my freedom?”
Rene looked thoughtful. Uncle Damian grunted something about not worrying over spilt milk, but worry was one of the things I did best.
I looked down at the parchment I held in my hand. “So now what? We take this to the Court?”
“Oui. Although your uncle and Jim, they will not be allowed in. Mortals are seldom let in, and as for the demons, eh. You can imagine that they are not welcome.”
“Hypocrites,” Jim muttered, stepping on the window opener so it could stick its head out.
“Gotcha. You OK with that, Uncle Damian?”
“Drake said I would not be let in, but that you would be safe there. I will read the paper while you’re taking care of your business.”
