Light My Fire
Page 16
The weight of the world settled onto my shoulders, making me slump with weariness. Just how much was any one person supposed to bear? Wyvern’s mate and demon lord and Guardian ... and now Venediger? My mind balked at the thought. I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t take on one more responsibility. I hadn’t yet proven I could handle the ones I had!
“I’m sorry,” I said, getting to my feet and shaking my head. “This is not something I can become involved in.”
“You already are, Aisling Grey.”
“No, I’m not; you just think I am. And I’m not going to be. Good-bye, good luck, and happy election or whatever it is you have to go through.”
He said nothing as I walked away, but I could feel his curiously unemotional black eyes on me until I was out of sight. I pushed away the twinge of concern our conversation had brought me. Peter Burke and his desire to become Venediger had nothing to do with me, nothing at all. Or so I prayed.
6
“So you’re saying there’s nothing short of a blood sacrifice that will satisfy the imps and get them to leave me alone?”
“If you convince them that your demon acted without orders from you, and if you offer them sufficient compensation for the loss of their monarch, and if you allow them to witness the sacrifice, if they agree to all that, then, yes, it may allow you to survive this atrocity with relative success.”
I slumped back against the chair in Nora’s small kitchen, the phone clutched to my ear. “OK. I’ll send them a message explaining everything and offering them... what did you call it?”
‘The historic term is danegeld. But it’s basically a punitive payment for the loss of life of their leader.”
“Right. I send them an abject apology, explain what happened, and more or less let them run amok with my Visa card. I can do that.”
“I hope so. Because the alternative is unthinkable.”
Nora clicked her tongue, muttered something about late trains, and wished me luck with the dragon meeting. “I shouldn’t be gone above a few hours. You can tell me about the meeting when I get back.”
“Will do. Good luck! Have fun hunting for kobolds.”
“You look moderately less pissed,” Jim said after I hung up the phone, tipping its head on the side to consider me. “Are you going to forgive me and move on, or keep giving me those nasty little looks for the rest of both our days?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” I poured myself a second cup of coffee, leaning up against the kitchen counter to sip the blessed life-giving fluid. How on earth was I going to explain to the European population of imps about Jim’s snacking habits?
“Which means the latter.” Jim sighed. “Change of subject time—you wanna tell me what was up last night, or do I have to break out the crystal ball and divine it? And why did you come back from your trip to the bookstore looking so grumpy?”
“Don’t be silly. Demons can’t divine.”
“Where do you get your ideas?” Jim shook its head and drank a little water from the dogs’ water bowl.
I squinted at it. “You mean they can divine? I thought you had to have a soul to do that. Demons don’t have souls.”
“Newsflash: Not all demons are created equal.”
My squint turned into a pointed look. “What on earth does that mean?”
Jim’s furry shoulders shrugged.
I decided I’d had enough of arguing with it, and instead gave myself up to the bliss of coffee as it scorched its way down. “I want to marry Mr. Starbucks and bear him many children.”
“You don’t think that’s going to conflict with all the kids you and Drake will have?”
“Stop staring at my stomach,” I said, closing my eyes to allow the beverage to work its magic on my still-tired brain. “I’m not grumpy or pregnant.”
“Uh-huh. Who was the one who was telling me her boobs were hurting?”
I mulled that over for a moment. Jim was right that my breasts had been a bit more sensitive than normal, but I chalked that up to a period delayed by the stress of moving to the other side of the world. “Boobs hurt when you have your period, you who have no uterus.”
“Right, but you haven’t had that in over a month, have you? According to Cosmo, one of the seven classic signs you’re preggers is sore boobs.”
“We are not having this conversation,” I told the demon before I headed toward the bathroom. “We’ve got ten minutes before we have to leave. Go lick whatever it is you have to lick in order to be presentable in public.”
Jim’s reply was thankfully lost in news from a radio I flipped on before stepping into the bathroom to comb my hair. A few minutes later Jim and I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for our ride to the dragons’ meeting.
“So what’s this all about, anyway?” Jim asked as a black car pulled alongside us. I climbed into the car after it. “And why did you come home last night all ragged and bloody and smelling to high Abaddon?”
“We’re going to some sort of sept meeting. I don’t know exactly what it’s about, but Drake felt it was important I be there. Hi, Rene. Thanks for picking us up.”
“Bonjour, Aisling and Jim. I, too, am interested to hear the tale of your activities last night.”
I heaved a little inner sigh but was secretly warmed by both Jim’s and Rene’s apparent concern. Even if it was only a demon and a mysterious taxi driver, it was still nice to be worried about. “Someone tried to kill me last night by shoving me in front of an oncoming train,” I said quickly, pausing for their reactions.
“Who would do such a horrible thing?” Rene asked when he was through swearing. “And why would someone try? Do they know not you are a wyvern’s mate, and now immortal?”
I thought for a moment but couldn’t remember ever telling Rene that I was immortal. And yet he seemed to know that was one of the benefits of being a wyvern’s mate ... just more proof that he wasn’t what he seemed to be. I filed it away under my mental evidence folder and succinctly recounted the events of the past evening.
“Mon dieu. You think it was the silver wyvern who pushed you?” Rene asked, his eyes watching me in the mirror.
I pointed at the road in front of him as he narrowly missed mowing down several pedestrians. “No, of course not. Well, possibly. Oh, I don’t know what to think! Gabriel is a friend. He wouldn’t try to kill me. It had to be someone else or an accident... and I really don’t think it was an accident.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, getting to my feet and shaking my head. “This is not something I can become involved in.”
“You already are, Aisling Grey.”
“No, I’m not; you just think I am. And I’m not going to be. Good-bye, good luck, and happy election or whatever it is you have to go through.”
He said nothing as I walked away, but I could feel his curiously unemotional black eyes on me until I was out of sight. I pushed away the twinge of concern our conversation had brought me. Peter Burke and his desire to become Venediger had nothing to do with me, nothing at all. Or so I prayed.
6
“So you’re saying there’s nothing short of a blood sacrifice that will satisfy the imps and get them to leave me alone?”
“If you convince them that your demon acted without orders from you, and if you offer them sufficient compensation for the loss of their monarch, and if you allow them to witness the sacrifice, if they agree to all that, then, yes, it may allow you to survive this atrocity with relative success.”
I slumped back against the chair in Nora’s small kitchen, the phone clutched to my ear. “OK. I’ll send them a message explaining everything and offering them... what did you call it?”
‘The historic term is danegeld. But it’s basically a punitive payment for the loss of life of their leader.”
“Right. I send them an abject apology, explain what happened, and more or less let them run amok with my Visa card. I can do that.”
“I hope so. Because the alternative is unthinkable.”
Nora clicked her tongue, muttered something about late trains, and wished me luck with the dragon meeting. “I shouldn’t be gone above a few hours. You can tell me about the meeting when I get back.”
“Will do. Good luck! Have fun hunting for kobolds.”
“You look moderately less pissed,” Jim said after I hung up the phone, tipping its head on the side to consider me. “Are you going to forgive me and move on, or keep giving me those nasty little looks for the rest of both our days?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” I poured myself a second cup of coffee, leaning up against the kitchen counter to sip the blessed life-giving fluid. How on earth was I going to explain to the European population of imps about Jim’s snacking habits?
“Which means the latter.” Jim sighed. “Change of subject time—you wanna tell me what was up last night, or do I have to break out the crystal ball and divine it? And why did you come back from your trip to the bookstore looking so grumpy?”
“Don’t be silly. Demons can’t divine.”
“Where do you get your ideas?” Jim shook its head and drank a little water from the dogs’ water bowl.
I squinted at it. “You mean they can divine? I thought you had to have a soul to do that. Demons don’t have souls.”
“Newsflash: Not all demons are created equal.”
My squint turned into a pointed look. “What on earth does that mean?”
Jim’s furry shoulders shrugged.
I decided I’d had enough of arguing with it, and instead gave myself up to the bliss of coffee as it scorched its way down. “I want to marry Mr. Starbucks and bear him many children.”
“You don’t think that’s going to conflict with all the kids you and Drake will have?”
“Stop staring at my stomach,” I said, closing my eyes to allow the beverage to work its magic on my still-tired brain. “I’m not grumpy or pregnant.”
“Uh-huh. Who was the one who was telling me her boobs were hurting?”
I mulled that over for a moment. Jim was right that my breasts had been a bit more sensitive than normal, but I chalked that up to a period delayed by the stress of moving to the other side of the world. “Boobs hurt when you have your period, you who have no uterus.”
“Right, but you haven’t had that in over a month, have you? According to Cosmo, one of the seven classic signs you’re preggers is sore boobs.”
“We are not having this conversation,” I told the demon before I headed toward the bathroom. “We’ve got ten minutes before we have to leave. Go lick whatever it is you have to lick in order to be presentable in public.”
Jim’s reply was thankfully lost in news from a radio I flipped on before stepping into the bathroom to comb my hair. A few minutes later Jim and I stood on the sidewalk, waiting for our ride to the dragons’ meeting.
“So what’s this all about, anyway?” Jim asked as a black car pulled alongside us. I climbed into the car after it. “And why did you come home last night all ragged and bloody and smelling to high Abaddon?”
“We’re going to some sort of sept meeting. I don’t know exactly what it’s about, but Drake felt it was important I be there. Hi, Rene. Thanks for picking us up.”
“Bonjour, Aisling and Jim. I, too, am interested to hear the tale of your activities last night.”
I heaved a little inner sigh but was secretly warmed by both Jim’s and Rene’s apparent concern. Even if it was only a demon and a mysterious taxi driver, it was still nice to be worried about. “Someone tried to kill me last night by shoving me in front of an oncoming train,” I said quickly, pausing for their reactions.
“Who would do such a horrible thing?” Rene asked when he was through swearing. “And why would someone try? Do they know not you are a wyvern’s mate, and now immortal?”
I thought for a moment but couldn’t remember ever telling Rene that I was immortal. And yet he seemed to know that was one of the benefits of being a wyvern’s mate ... just more proof that he wasn’t what he seemed to be. I filed it away under my mental evidence folder and succinctly recounted the events of the past evening.
“Mon dieu. You think it was the silver wyvern who pushed you?” Rene asked, his eyes watching me in the mirror.
I pointed at the road in front of him as he narrowly missed mowing down several pedestrians. “No, of course not. Well, possibly. Oh, I don’t know what to think! Gabriel is a friend. He wouldn’t try to kill me. It had to be someone else or an accident... and I really don’t think it was an accident.”
