Light My Fire Read online

  “You look like Abaddon,” was all it said.

  “Feel worse,” I answered, then closed the bathroom door in its face and gave myself over to a long, hot soak. I knew I’d have a lot of explaining to do to both Nora and Jim, not to mention mulling over what had happened in the train station, why Gabriel hadn’t grabbed me, and why Fiat had when my death was sure to mean the death of Drake, his arch nemesis. But all that could wait until the morning. Things always looked more manageable in the morning.

  I am so often wrong about things like that.

  “Morning, Nora…oh. You’re going out?” I stifled a yawn as I squinted across a small kitchen made bright by the morning sun. Jim was flaked out in a pool of sunlight, cocking an eyebrow at me, but saying nothing as it read the morning paper.

  “Yes, I got a call this morning that there’s been an imp outbreak near my portal,” she answered, taking a last sip of coffee before rinsing out the cup and setting it to dry. “Jim went out for a walk with Paco and me earlier, so it shouldn’t need to go out right away.”

  “Oh. Thank you. Um…imps. In Green Park? I should come help with them.”

  “You have dragon business to attend to,” Nora interrupted, putting Paco in his traveling carrier. She snapped it shut, then laughed when she saw me. “Such a guilty expression! Aisling, I knew when I took you on as an apprentice that there would be times when you would be unable to assist me as a normal apprentice might. This is one of those times, and since the imps aren’t dangerous in any way, I have no problem whatsoever in taking care of them myself. I’m just going to remove them, then I’ll catch a train to Chichester to deal with the kobolds I mentioned yesterday. It was a false alarm then, but I want to keep an eye on it. With luck, I should be back by dinner.”

  I glanced at the clock. I had the dragon thing to go to in a couple of hours. Nora might be generous enough to excuse me from helping her with the imps, but I was too conflicted to do that. Obviously she’d gotten along just fine without me up to that point, but now that I was signed on as an apprentice, it was my duty to help her wherever and whenever she needed me. “I’ve got a few hours yet. Do you think the imps will take long?”

  “They shouldn’t, no. But, Aisling, you don’t need to come with me. I understand how important this dragon meeting is to you.”

  “Be right out,” I said over my shoulder, hurrying to my bedroom. “Jim, stop reading the paper and get ready to be my trusty sidekick.”

  “Yes, kemosabe,” it answered, turning the page.

  Fortunately, Nora’s portal was only fifteen minutes away on foot, located in a slim belt of trees that lined an edge of Green Park.

  “And your portal is where?” I asked, searching the ground at the spot Nora had pointed to for something that looked like an open conduit to Hell.

  “Here,” she said, standing next to a squat, prickly pine tree. I walked around the tree, scouring the ground for the portal.

  “Where? I don’t see it. Is it hidden or something?”

  “No, it’s right here,” she said, touching the tree.

  “The tree is the portal?”

  Her eyes glittered behind her glasses. I was learning to read her expressions, and that particular glitter meant she was smiling to herself. “Yes. You expected a gaping maw to Abaddon, filled with brimstone and the screams of the eternally tormented?”

  “Well…yeah. Something like that. Or at least like the portal that popped up in that restaurant in Budapest. Jim—” I turned to ask my demon a question, but it wasn’t there. I scanned the surrounding area. No demonic Newfie was anywhere in sight. “Where’d it go?”

  Nora set down her Paco carrier and extracted a slim black case from her inner pocket. “It was here a minute ago. Does it normally go off on its own?”

  “No, hardly ever…oh, there you are. Where have you been?”

  Jim smirked. “Miss me?”

  “Immeasurably. What were you doing?”

  “I smelled some imps nearby. Being the exemplary sort of demon that I am, I thought you’d like me to locate them for you. So I did. There were only a few so I took care of them for you.”

  Nora’s eyebrows rose. “Jim is trained to destroy imps?”

  “Trained isn’t exactly the word,” I said, squatting next to the demon. “Open your mouth.”

  “What?” Jim asked, trying to back away, but I caught its collar and twisted it tight. “I haven’t done anything.”

  “You ate those imps, didn’t you? Dammit, Jim, you know how high in fat they are! The vet said your cholesterol was that of an eighty-year-old man. I told you imps were off your diet!”

  Jim snarled something unintelligible, made so because it clenched its teeth together as I pried its flews apart so I could see along the edge of its teeth.

  “Aha! What’s this?” I picked out a minuscule little item from the depths of its lips and waved it around in front of its face.

  “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re yammering about,” Jim grumbled, looking away.

  Nora adjusted her glasses and examined the bit of partially chewed blob on my fingers. “That looks to be part of an imp’s hand.”

  “It is. It is also proof positive that someone has been breaking its diet. No doggie fake bacon strips for you tonight, buster!”

  Nora bent even closer over my hand, holding it steady. “Jim…the imp you ate. Was it wearing jewelry of any sort?”

  “Jewelry?” I asked, peering at the remains of the imp hand. It was an odd shade of light blue, with the usual (for imps) three fingers. There was no sign of imp rings or bracelets on it. “Why jewelry?”

  “Did you have a chance to read the field guide to imps that I gave you the other day?” Nora asked.

  I shook my head. “I meant to yesterday on the train, but things got kind of out of control. What’s with the jewelry?”

  Nora looked at Jim.

  “If I had eaten an imp, and I’m not saying I did, because Aisling could have palmed that onto my lips to make me look guilty, but if I had, and it might have had a nasty little bit of gold on it, what of it?”

  I shook the imp hand in front of Jim’s nose. “Bad demon! Bad!”

  It rolled its eyes.

  Nora took a deep breath and grabbed Paco’s carrier. “Show us where you found the imp nest,” she ordered Jim.

  It looked at me.

  “Do it,” I said, demons being able to take orders only from their demon lord.

  “If you had read the field guide,” Nora said as she followed Jim into the clutch of trees, holding aside branches as she ducked into some dense shrubberies that lined the fence, “you would know that imps of that particular color belong to the suzerain. In addition to the unique color, they are marked by the gold jewelry they wear.”

  “Great. So Jim ate an important imp?”

  She squatted on her heels next to a small rhododendron, picking something out of the dirt. I knelt down to look at it. The object in her hand was a dirty bit of gold. It looked like a doll’s ring. “Not just an important imp. The important imp. This is a crown.”

  We both looked from it to where Jim sat perfecting its look of innocence.

  “I’m very much afraid that your demon has eaten the reigning imp monarch. I shudder to think of what sort of retribution they will seek against you.”

  I glared at Jim for a few seconds. It had the decency to look embarrassed. “Lovely. Retribution from imps. Just the sort of thing I need in my life, a bunch of imps pooping in my shoes and stealing my hairbrush, and whatever other sorts of things they do to people who piss them off.”

  Jim looked even more uncomfortable.

  “Aisling,” Nora said, brushing off her knees as she got to her feet. “You do not understand. This is not some minor matter of revenge. Your demon has eaten the imp monarch.”

  “Yeah. I’m really sorry about that, and you can bet I’ll order Jim to a strictly imp-free diet from here on out.”

  “Aw, man!” Jim groaned.

&
nbsp; Nora put her hand on my arm. “Imps may appear harmless, and most of the time they are. But I cannot stress to you enough the dire nature of this act against them. The entire imp nation will rise up against you in revenge.”

  The hairs on my arms stood on end. “Good god. How many imps are there?”

  “Worldwide?” She shook her head. “Thousands. Hundreds of thousands. And I’m afraid you’ve just become their public enemy number one.”

  “You’re talking about actions more serious than hiding my toothpaste and short-sheeting my bed, aren’t you?”

  “I’m talking about imps destroying you, Jim, and everyone near you in a manner that would make medieval torture look like a pleasant way to pass an afternoon,” she answered, her voice grave.

  I turned slowly to fix Jim on the end of a glare so pointed, the demon should have been skewered up against the tree behind it.

  Jim burped. “Sorry. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  I lectured Jim all the way home. Nora left to deal with the threat of possibly more kobolds, and Jim complained of a bellyache (no doubt the imp king was not digesting easily), so a half hour later I headed out by myself to visit a nearby bookstore Nora had recommended, figuring I’d use the hour before I had to meet Drake to bone up on Guardianish things. I was so caught up in my own concerns, I didn’t catch my name the first time someone said it.

  A little zing of pain shot up my back the second time, instantly attracting my attention to the man who stood next to a bench in the small green square through which I was strolling.

  “Aisling Grey—if you have a moment of time, I would like to talk with you.”

  I recognized the man immediately. The curly dark brown hair and dark eyes, square chin, and slightly above-average height were nothing out of the ordinary, but the aura of power surrounding him was palpable even several yards away. I stopped and allowed him to approach.

  “We have not been introduced, I think, although naturally I have heard of the famous Aisling Grey.” He smiled faintly, his voice a bit husky, tinged with a faint Irish accent. “I am Peter Burke.”

  He didn’t hold out his hand, something I’d learned quickly was standard with people in the Otherworld. Drake had told me that too many people could pick up on things when they touched you, so only good friends or close acquaintances shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “Indeed. Can you spare me a few minutes?” he asked, giving me a polite, tight little smile.

  “Sure. Are you in London for business?” Obediently, I took a seat on the bench he indicated.

  “In a manner of speaking. I have been attending to my concerns elsewhere for the last few months and only recently returned to Paris. There I discovered that Albert Camus had been murdered, and you were instrumental in discovering his murderer’s identity.”

  “I had a bit of help, but that’s more or less true,” I agreed. Peter’s eyes bothered me—something about them wasn’t quite right, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was.

  “Regardless, you made an impression on the members of the Paris Otherworld.” His face was oddly expressionless, making me uneasy.

  “Ah, now I see what you want,” I said, the truth dawning. The reassuring smile I flashed at him fizzled when he didn’t respond to it in the least. “You’re worried that I want a shot at the Venediger’s job, right? Well, you’re worrying needlessly. I have enough going on in my life and have no desire to be Venediger. My friend Amelie said something yesterday about people thinking I should take the job, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “I see,” Peter said, the faintest hint of amusement showing in his eyes. I relaxed at the sight of it, relieved that he was showing some sort of emotion. “Naturally, I am greatly reassured to know that you have no designs on the position so well suited to me, and loath though I am to disturb you at a time when you are so busy, I had thought that since you are held in such high esteem by the Paris Otherworld, you might assist me.”

  “Assist you?” I cleared my throat and shifted on the bench, Amelie’s concerns still fresh in my memory. “I don’t know how I could do that. I think you’re grossly overestimating just how much influence I have.”

  “Nonetheless, it would give me the greatest pleasure to know I had your support in my campaign to become the next Venediger.”

  I had to tread warily here—dragon politics had taught me that much. “I’m going to be honest here, since you seem to be a reasonable man. I am flattered that you think I can help you get the job, but I don’t know you. I barely know anyone in Paris, and nothing of the history of the Venedigers, let alone exactly what the job entails, so it’s out of the question for me to throw my support behind you. Or anyone else for that matter,” I added quickly, just in case he was pricked by my refusal. “It’s nothing to do with you personally. I’m just not qualified to recommend anyone for the job.”

  He pursed his lips for a moment. “Are you aware of the laws governing the Otherworld regarding the position of Venediger?”

  “No, I’m not. And that’s just one more reason why it would be stupid of me to recommend someone—”

  “The laws of the Otherworld state that the position is granted to the person who has beaten all other challengers. If there are no challengers, then the position is put up to a vote by the membership of the L’au-delà. In short, the popular vote wins.”

  “Very democratic,” I said as noncommittally as I could. If Peter thought I was going to march around Paris soliciting votes for him, he was quite, quite mad. “I don’t, however, see what this has to do with me. As I said, I have no intentions of trying to get the position.”

  “You don’t need to. If there are no other challengers—and to date, I am the sole contender, the two other individuals who were interested having killed each other in an ill-fought challenge—then anyone who is voted into the position will be declared the new Venediger.” He paused to let that sink in. “Even someone who is apparently unwilling to take the position.”

  “They can’t make me be Venediger against my will,” I said quickly.

  “You think not?” His eyebrows rose. “There is precedent for it, in fact. In 1518, a friar was made Venediger when the man who sought the position was proven to have participated in a number of human sacrifices. The members of the Otherworld refused to accept him and picked instead a man they felt would not abuse the position.”

  “That has nothing to do with me. I’m not going to be Venediger, period.”

  “My travels to explore the mystic side of myself have sent me into the Far East for so many years, I’m afraid I am unacquainted with most of the people in the L’au-delà now. They do not know me, but they know—and apparently trust—you. I very much fear that unless you make it clear you support me, you may find yourself in the very position you so fervently wish to avoid. As you can see, it would benefit us both were you to make a public stand.”

  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.