Light My Fire
Page 34
“Ariton? The demon lord Ariton?” I ripped the bottom of my shirt to carefully wad around where the sword protruded. Part of my mind was still coping with the fact that I’d been skewered (and survived), but the rest of it had moved on without anything but a passing thought that it was odd I wasn’t feeling more pain. The wound bled, but not copiously so. It hurt, but not to the exclusion of thought.
“Aye. We will go there now.”
“Wait a second.” I waved a hand around vaguely as the woman nodded to the taxi driver. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m a bit woozy from loss of blood, not to mention having just barely survived an attack by a warring dragon and homicidal imps. Why on earth does a demon lord want to see me?”
The female demon—for that’s what the woman had to be—looked at me for the count of three, then turned its head.
I was reminded that demons don’t have to answer questions asked by anyone but those to whom they owed allegiance or who summoned them. I toyed with the idea of summoning this one but discarded that plan for two reasons—first, I didn’t have the tools on me to call up a demon, and second, I had a vague memory of Jim telling me it couldn’t nark on its demon lord to anyone.
Jim! Why hadn’t I thought of my furry little demon? “Effrijim, I summon thee.”
Obedama’s head snapped around to face me as Jim’s black shape took form at my feet.
“Wow. Do you know you’ve got a herkin’ big sword sticking out your front?” Jim asked, peering around me to look behind.
Obedama hissed something under its breath.
Jim turned to look at the other demon. “Oh. Hi there, Obi-Wan. Long time no see. I see you’re going for a female form now. Nice.”
“My name,” the demon snarled back at Jim with deliberate pronunciation, “is Obedama. You will remember that, Effrijim!”
“Man, no sense of humor!” Jim dismissed Obedama and turned back to me.
I gave it a look I thought it well deserved. “Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed this sword?”
The demon shrugged. “I never know with humans. So ... is it the newest in fashion accessories? Or do you just enjoy the skewered look?”
“God in heaven,” I swore to myself. “I can’t reach the handle to take it out, you boob!”
“OK. Lean forward and I’ll get a grip on it with my teeth . ..”
“No!” I shoved the demon back onto the floor. “You’ll do more damage yanking it out! I need medical attention!
It’s not bleeding much now, and so long as I’m careful how I move, it doesn’t seem to be getting worse.”
Jim rolled its eyes. “You’re immortal, Ash. A little sword through your gut isn’t going to do any permanent damage.”
“I’m not taking any chances. So, Obedama,” I said, turning back to the demon who was studiously ignoring us. “What exactly does your demon lord wish to see me about?”
It didn’t even look at me. “You are summoned before him. Anything else you will have to learn from Ariton himself.”
“Fair enough. The problem is that I’m a bit busy at the moment, what with the impalement and all, so I think I’ll take a rain check on visiting with your boss.” I leaned forward to talk to the taxi driver. “If you could let me out at the nearest available stopping point, I’d be grateful.”
The driver didn’t answer.
“Um ... sir?”
“It will do you no good. You have been summoned,” Obedama told me. “The driver will not assist you to escape.”
“Look, I appreciate that you’ve been sent to bring me to your boss, but right now is not convenient. So I’ll just be leaving, with or without your permission.” I had noticed we were coming up to a stoplight. By the time I had finished my statement, we were stopped.
“Uh ... Ash ... that may not be a good idea...”
Jim’s concerned face was the last thing I saw. The instant my hand touched the door handle, Obedama raised her hands. A brilliant white light burst behind my eyeballs, sending me spiraling down into oblivion.
A cold, moist, soft something pressed against my cheek. “Aisling? You there?”
I cracked open one eye to find myself staring up Jim’s nose. “Maybe. It depends. Am I still alive?”
“Yep. All in one piece, two if you include the sword.”
Gingerly, I pushed myself up from the soft surface that rubbed against my face, blinking to clear my vision. I had been lying on my side on an old-fashioned dark maroon velvet fainting couch, tucked away in a dark corner of a room that seemed to my bemused eyes to be something taken directly from the set of the movie Gaslight. Flames flickered in art deco gas jets that bedecked heavily flocked gold-and-black wallpaper. Big rubber plants sat in the four corners of the room. A huge marble fireplace bearing ornate brass figures twisted in torment squatted across from me, but my attention skimmed past all that to settle on the man sitting behind a massive ebony desk.
“You are awake? Excellent. You have my apologies for the methods my minion was forced to employ in order to ensure your attendance at this most important meeting, but I assure you such extreme methods were necessary.”
The man who rose from the desk and walked toward me could have doubled for Charles Boyer in Gaslight. He was of medium height, had slicked-back black hair and a pleasant face, and wore a black satin smoking jacket that would have looked silly on anyone else but seemed to fit this room to a T.
“Um .. . you have to forgive my stupidity, but this has been a heck of an afternoon. I assume you are Ariton, the demon lord?” Carefully, so as not to jostle the sword, I got to my feet. I was rumpled and dirty, dripped blood, and had a sword poking out of me, but by god, I was a professional.
“I am,” the man said, stopping before me. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes on the sword. “And you are Aisling Grey, demon lord and wyvern’s mate.”
“Yes. You’ll have to excuse my appearance.” I waved a nonchalant hand toward my middle. “A dragon from another sept attempted to kill me earlier, and I haven’t yet had time to have the sword removed.”
“Ah,” he said, considering it for a moment. “Then this is not part of your normal appearance?”
I shuddered to think about the sort of people he must deal with on a daily basis. “No, it isn’t.”
“Aye. We will go there now.”
“Wait a second.” I waved a hand around vaguely as the woman nodded to the taxi driver. “You’ll have to forgive me, but I’m a bit woozy from loss of blood, not to mention having just barely survived an attack by a warring dragon and homicidal imps. Why on earth does a demon lord want to see me?”
The female demon—for that’s what the woman had to be—looked at me for the count of three, then turned its head.
I was reminded that demons don’t have to answer questions asked by anyone but those to whom they owed allegiance or who summoned them. I toyed with the idea of summoning this one but discarded that plan for two reasons—first, I didn’t have the tools on me to call up a demon, and second, I had a vague memory of Jim telling me it couldn’t nark on its demon lord to anyone.
Jim! Why hadn’t I thought of my furry little demon? “Effrijim, I summon thee.”
Obedama’s head snapped around to face me as Jim’s black shape took form at my feet.
“Wow. Do you know you’ve got a herkin’ big sword sticking out your front?” Jim asked, peering around me to look behind.
Obedama hissed something under its breath.
Jim turned to look at the other demon. “Oh. Hi there, Obi-Wan. Long time no see. I see you’re going for a female form now. Nice.”
“My name,” the demon snarled back at Jim with deliberate pronunciation, “is Obedama. You will remember that, Effrijim!”
“Man, no sense of humor!” Jim dismissed Obedama and turned back to me.
I gave it a look I thought it well deserved. “Do you honestly think I haven’t noticed this sword?”
The demon shrugged. “I never know with humans. So ... is it the newest in fashion accessories? Or do you just enjoy the skewered look?”
“God in heaven,” I swore to myself. “I can’t reach the handle to take it out, you boob!”
“OK. Lean forward and I’ll get a grip on it with my teeth . ..”
“No!” I shoved the demon back onto the floor. “You’ll do more damage yanking it out! I need medical attention!
It’s not bleeding much now, and so long as I’m careful how I move, it doesn’t seem to be getting worse.”
Jim rolled its eyes. “You’re immortal, Ash. A little sword through your gut isn’t going to do any permanent damage.”
“I’m not taking any chances. So, Obedama,” I said, turning back to the demon who was studiously ignoring us. “What exactly does your demon lord wish to see me about?”
It didn’t even look at me. “You are summoned before him. Anything else you will have to learn from Ariton himself.”
“Fair enough. The problem is that I’m a bit busy at the moment, what with the impalement and all, so I think I’ll take a rain check on visiting with your boss.” I leaned forward to talk to the taxi driver. “If you could let me out at the nearest available stopping point, I’d be grateful.”
The driver didn’t answer.
“Um ... sir?”
“It will do you no good. You have been summoned,” Obedama told me. “The driver will not assist you to escape.”
“Look, I appreciate that you’ve been sent to bring me to your boss, but right now is not convenient. So I’ll just be leaving, with or without your permission.” I had noticed we were coming up to a stoplight. By the time I had finished my statement, we were stopped.
“Uh ... Ash ... that may not be a good idea...”
Jim’s concerned face was the last thing I saw. The instant my hand touched the door handle, Obedama raised her hands. A brilliant white light burst behind my eyeballs, sending me spiraling down into oblivion.
A cold, moist, soft something pressed against my cheek. “Aisling? You there?”
I cracked open one eye to find myself staring up Jim’s nose. “Maybe. It depends. Am I still alive?”
“Yep. All in one piece, two if you include the sword.”
Gingerly, I pushed myself up from the soft surface that rubbed against my face, blinking to clear my vision. I had been lying on my side on an old-fashioned dark maroon velvet fainting couch, tucked away in a dark corner of a room that seemed to my bemused eyes to be something taken directly from the set of the movie Gaslight. Flames flickered in art deco gas jets that bedecked heavily flocked gold-and-black wallpaper. Big rubber plants sat in the four corners of the room. A huge marble fireplace bearing ornate brass figures twisted in torment squatted across from me, but my attention skimmed past all that to settle on the man sitting behind a massive ebony desk.
“You are awake? Excellent. You have my apologies for the methods my minion was forced to employ in order to ensure your attendance at this most important meeting, but I assure you such extreme methods were necessary.”
The man who rose from the desk and walked toward me could have doubled for Charles Boyer in Gaslight. He was of medium height, had slicked-back black hair and a pleasant face, and wore a black satin smoking jacket that would have looked silly on anyone else but seemed to fit this room to a T.
“Um .. . you have to forgive my stupidity, but this has been a heck of an afternoon. I assume you are Ariton, the demon lord?” Carefully, so as not to jostle the sword, I got to my feet. I was rumpled and dirty, dripped blood, and had a sword poking out of me, but by god, I was a professional.
“I am,” the man said, stopping before me. He hesitated for a moment, his eyes on the sword. “And you are Aisling Grey, demon lord and wyvern’s mate.”
“Yes. You’ll have to excuse my appearance.” I waved a nonchalant hand toward my middle. “A dragon from another sept attempted to kill me earlier, and I haven’t yet had time to have the sword removed.”
“Ah,” he said, considering it for a moment. “Then this is not part of your normal appearance?”
I shuddered to think about the sort of people he must deal with on a daily basis. “No, it isn’t.”
