Holy Smokes (30 page)

“You are to pay homage to the premiere prince of Hell?” Kostya asked, moving over so he stood directly behind me. Pál and István followed suit, with Jim leaning against my knees. “You cannot do that! Did you not swear fealty to the green dragons?”

Traci bowed a couple of times to Bael as it hurried over and joined the group. I had a horrible suspicion we presented the appearance of a particularly off-kilter football huddle.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been all over that, but it’s not a big deal because I’m not really going to do an homage. Traci, where are the sacrifices?”

“I didn’t get them,” the demon answered miserably.

“What?” I poked my head up and smiled at Bael, who was watching us with an indescribably awful expression of mounting anger. “Sorry. Can we have a quick time-out? Just a few things I need to straighten out about the sacrifices.”

Bael’s resulting roar of fury shook the house.

“Where the hell are the sacrifices?” I asked Traci, grabbing the demon’s sleeves and shaking it.

“Abad—” Jim started to say, but stopped when I let loose with a little frustrated scream.

“I couldn’t get them; the people at the farm threw me out after I said I wanted to euthanize them.”

I closed my eyes in horror. “Oh, crap.”

Drake’s voice pierced the miasma of regret that swamped me. “Aisling, tell me you were not planning on making the sacrifice I think you were planning on making.”

I nodded, opening my eyes again. “I thought it was a really good plan. Traci got the stuff from a vet and it would have been just perfect if only those stupid chicken-farm people would have cooperated.”

“I have had enough of this farce!” Bael bellowed, his hands fisted as he strode toward me.

Instantly, the football huddle turned into a wall of dragons that stood between me and Bael.

“You will present the sacrifices to me now, before I lose my patience and banish you as you deserve!”

“Traci?”

“I’m sorry, lord,” it answered, spreading its hands wide.

“Go get the sacrifices,” I said in a loud voice, leaning in to add an additional instruction.

Traci looked horrified for a moment before its form disappeared. I smiled over Drake’s shoulder. “It’ll be just a minute—oh, there it is. You get points for speediness, Traci.”

The demon thrust two bags at me. I waved it toward Bael.

“Banish me if you must,” Traci said, shoving the bags in my hands. “But I cannot do this.”

“Aisling Grey, I have lost all patience with—”

I snatched the bags and ran forward, dumping the contents on the table that sat next to where Bael loomed. “Sorry! Here they are. My sacrifices to pay homage to you.”

Bael stared in complete shock at the six items as I arranged them in an attractive presentation.

“There was a slight mix-up in the original sacrifices, but these are just as good,” I said, licking one sticky finger. “Better, actually. As you can see, two of the roast chickens are teriyaki, three are some sort of a lemongrass rub, and the last one looks like whisky barbecue.”

There was a moment of complete silence before Bael’s roar threw me back three feet, luckily straight into Drake.

“You dare!” Bael screamed, his face twisted with fury.

“There’s no dare about it,” I answered, allowing Drake to wrap his arms around me.

“Mate—” he whispered into my ear.

“I’m OK,” I told him quietly. “I know what I’m doing.”

“If it gets out of hand, I will have no choice but to take charge,” he warned me.

I nodded, my eyes still on Bael. “According to the Doctrine of Unending Conscious, I must present you with six sacrifices. Nothing was said about what form those sacrifices must take. My offering is as you see—six chickens, sacrificed, seasoned, and roasted to perfection in your name.”

Bael’s face turned bright red. I thought for a moment that he was going to explode right there in front of us. Evidently Drake thought so as well because his arms tightened around me. “Aisling—”

“It’s OK,” I whispered, raising my voice in what I prayed was a confident tone. “By the laws that govern Abaddon, I have met the terms of your demands.”

Bael hissed as he visibly struggled to regain control, but after a few seconds of a really close call, his color cleared up and he stopped clenching his fists.

“You have mocked everything I represent from the first moment you became a demon lord. Do you think your pathetically transparent attempts to incite an expulsion have fooled me? Do you think I would release one I worked so hard to bring into my power?”

We were on dangerous ground here. I sent up another prayer that Traci’s research into the Doctrine was as thorough as it claimed it was. “I will never be what you want me to be, Bael. I will never again use the dark power. You may be able to force me to remain a prince, but I will fight you every step of the way. I will do everything I can to undermine your power and influence over the other demon lords. I will continue to fight the good fight, and I will never, ever, stop trying to get away.”

“Aisling.” Drake breathed a warning into my ear. “Even I would not speak thusly to Bael.”

“Give me one reason, one singular reason why I should not banish you to the Akasha at this very moment,” Bael said, walking slowly toward us. The dragons tightened ranks. Jim leaped to its feet and valiantly bared its teeth, even though it knew it wouldn’t stand a chance against the premiere prince of Abaddon.

I lifted my chin and tried mightily to meet Bael’s gaze, but I couldn’t quite do it. I stared at his ear, instead. “Because you can’t do that without having a revolution on your hands.”

Bael paused in his steady progress toward me.

Drake’s arms tightened again. I patted his hand until he loosened his grip somewhat.

“I found the Doctrine very interesting reading. Most of it was just esoteric stuff that went on and on about what form damnations should take, and which torments were allowed, but there was a very interesting albeit short section about the formation of the princes, particularly about the removal thereof.”

Bael’s face turned to a frozen mask.

“To be specific, it says that you can’t banish a fellow demon lord. No prince can—only someone who is not one of the eight princes can banish you guys. Which is why you set me up to banish Ariton, isn’t it? You couldn’t do it without having the other six princes rise up and overthrow you, so you arranged the situation so I inadvertently took care of a troublesome prince for you.” I squared my shoulders. “In other words, you’re stuck with me—unless you and the other princes vote me off the island.”

Fury flashed in Bael’s blue eyes for a moment. I knew he must be feeling cornered at that moment, and a cornered demon lord was a dangerous beast. I picked my next few words carefully.

“I never intended to enact a coup, as you well know. I simply wanted to point out to you what a pain in the ass I will be if you do not convince the others to give me the boot. You can’t possibly want me to remain here. I have rejected the dark power time and time again, and with the support and love of my friends and family, I will continue to do so.”

A muscle in Bael’s jaw twitched, but still he said nothing.

Drake curled one arm protectively around me, his eyes velvety green as he watched the demon lord.

“I am not threatening you, and I am not challenging your authority, but I am saying that I will continue to be a thorn in your side. I will not rest until I have been granted an expulsion from Abaddon, and I am prepared to do whatever it takes—within the bounds of what I consider morally allowable—to see that happen.”

Rather than rant and rave, Bael relaxed at what I said, the glint of anger fading as he leaned against the table next to him. “Indeed? You ask much of me, Aisling Grey. I went to great pains to put you into place—granted, you were of use to me in removing the annoying Ariton, but even so, I had come to see the possibilities of your presence in Abaddon. And yet you wish now for me to grant you a great undertaking, for it will not be easy to convince the other lords to ex pulse you.”

I didn’t believe that for a second, but I wasn’t foolish enough to put my thoughts into speech.

“Your wyvern is no doubt well aware that such a favor as you ask of me will not be granted without a substantial payment…and a sacrifice.”

I glanced at Drake. His body language read caution. “What price do you demand of my mate?”

“And what sacrifice?” I asked, more worried about that than money.

Bael toyed with a dagger that lay on the table. I refused to think about what it was doing there. “Your wyvern has in his possession three trinkets, I believe. Their return would satisfy the price I demand.”

“Trinkets?” I asked suspiciously, casting my mind over the things in Drake’s house. “What trinkets?”

Jim stepped on my foot, its eyes trying to tell me something.

“The Tools,” Drake said softly, his eyes glittering now as if he was sizing up Bael. “You wish for the return of the three Tools.”

“The Tools of Bael?” I asked, my voice rising on the last word. “You’re joking! You think I’m going to hand over to you the three Tools? Those things are powerful as all get-out on their own—together, whoever wields them can rule the Otherworld! I don’t think so!”

Bael laughed, a horrible sound that made the skin on my back crawl. “Do you think if they had that possibility for me that I would not have done anything to possess them again? The Tools provide the bearer access to my power, something I would point out I already have.”

“Oh.” I thought about that for a moment or two. It made sense—when I’d handed the three Tools over to Drake for safekeeping, I’d done so to keep them out of harm’s way. Drake had enough power and had no need to control the Otherworld, but others were not so trustworthy. I turned to him now, asking, “Is that true?”

He nodded slowly. “The Tools would be of no use to Bael. Which makes me wonder why, then, he is so anxious to have them.”

“It is a trivial reason,” Bael answered dismissively, his hands gesturing away the question. “They were mine, pretty things, taken from me. Surely a dragon can appreciate the need to possess that which was once his?”

“Yes,” Drake answered. “I can also understand the desire to remove a possible conduit to my powers from the reach of others.”

Anger flared to life for a fraction of a second in Bael’s eyes.

“I think you hit a nerve,” I said softly. “What do you think? Are you willing to give up the Tools to him? Would they be safe?”

Drake was silent for a moment. “I would not give them up for anything but you. I do, however, believe that Bael will keep them from being used by members of the Otherworld. Whether or not he does so from his fellow princes is up to him.”

“I have not ruled Abaddon as long as I have by being foolish,” Bael answered.

“OK, so that takes care of the price. What sacrifice do you want now? I think the local store is fresh out of roast chickens, but I’m willing to spring for a turkey or even a couple of pot roasts if that’ll do the trick.”

“Oh, no,” Bael said, tossing the dagger in the air and catching it by the very tip of its blade. “This sacrifice is demanded of
you
, Aisling Grey. You ask for a sacrifice on my part in going to the trouble of having you removed from Abaddon—you must provide me with a similar sacrifice.”

“What, exactly?” I asked, a hollow feeling in my gut.

Bael’s hand jerked downward, embedding the point of the dagger a good three inches into the solid wood of the table. I jumped at the violence of the movement, squeezing up tight to Drake as Bael’s expression darkened. “Be it known to all that upon payment of the items known as the Tools of Bael, and a formal disavowal of Guardianship, I will grant Aisling Grey, seventh prince of Abaddon, expulsion from our ranks.”

T
he dream started as so many others have—with a drowsy sense of presence, Drake’s presence, which seeped into the core of my very being and roused my awareness gently, but insistently.

I was disoriented as I always am in Drake’s dreamscapes—I was in warm silky water, in a large black pool, ringed with candles whose flames sputtered and danced in the heated air. Shadows stretched behind them in inky infinity, the light dappling only the water of the pool in which I sat.

“Mmm. This is a new one—frankincense and myrrh?” I asked as I cupped my hand and allowed the oiled water to pour from between my fingers. “I like it. It’s very dragon. This is awfully sweet of you, to send me a dream just because you had to go to Paris to get those blasted Tools, Drake, but it’s not necessary. I could have waited until tomorrow when you got home.”

“I, on the other hand, could not wait.” His voice slid across my damp skin like velvet, sending little skitters of anticipation rippling down my spine. I turned to look behind me, where his voice had originated, but there was nothing to be seen in the dense shadows.

“Oooh, are you going to be dominant and bossy in this dream?” I scooped up another handful of water and tilted my head back, letting it pour down my neck to my chest.

“I am always dominant. I am wyvern. You are my mate. It is the natural order of things.”

Movement flickered to my left. I peered into the darkness but could make out nothing but the slightest whisper of cloth as it dropped to the floor. I smiled to myself and heaved a mock sigh. “You live in your own little world, don’t you?”

“Yes.” A little breeze tickled my back. I spun around, but no one was there. “It consists of you and me, and nothing else of importance. Love me, mate.”

His lips were warm on the nape of my neck. I arched my back as his hands slid around my oiled skin, cupping my breasts as he nibbled several highly erogenous spots behind my ear.

“Oh-ho, it’s going to be an ‘all about Drake’ night, is it?” I asked, teasing him with more than just my words.

“Yes. Tonight I will take my pleasure of you. And when I am done, if you are worthy, perhaps I will allow you a little enjoyment, as well.”

I laughed, pinching the skin of his thigh. “In your dreams, buster. Oh, wait, this is your dream.”

“Are you so sure it is only a dream?” he asked, his hands gentle but demanding on my sensitive breasts.