Fire Me Up Page 9

  "That is not true. We have spread much joy. I have smiled at seventeen people. And you know that the hermit is definitely in a park outside the limits of the city."

  "A fact that would be more helpful if there weren't gazillions of parks around Budapest," I groused, then immediately felt bad. It wasn't Tiffany's fault that the hermit was evidently so paranoid he shuffled his mail through six different points, all of which knew only the next forwarding address. "I'm sorry, Tiffany. My bad mood is no reflection on you. You were a great help translating for me. It would have taken a lot longer without you."

  She looked pleased as we walked down the busy street toward a car park Rene had found hidden behind an office building that still bore on its walls the shadows of communist slogans that had been ripped off during Hungary's bloodless revolution. We had seen many such buildings during our unintentional tour of the city, taking us from stately, ornately decorated buildings that counted rime by the century to modern, brightly lit shops whose neon lights promised everything from discos to Internet access.

  "I am very good with people. It is my eyes. They see kindness within, and it spills out to light their lives with happy thoughts. Now you have seen how I do it, you, too, must share your happiness with others."

  Rene was a block away, walking toward us with Jim on a leash beside him, the ubiquitous white plastic bag tied to the leash signaling to all that we were in full compliance with the rules regarding dogs and their leavings. Evidently Jim had finally convinced Rene to take it for a quick walkie. Tiffany and I stopped next to Rene's car, Tiffany careful to avoid touching the hot metal of the vehicle. I leaned against it, my arms crossed, as I thought about my options. "Fiat's offer notwithstanding, assuming I had the money, which I don't, I could hire one of his men to do a little hermit tracking for me, but I'm fairly certain they'd need a scent or something to follow, so that's out."

  Tiffany murmured something noncommittal.

  I chewed on my tower lip as the heat of the car swirled up and around me, bathing me in a pleasant sensation of warm comfort. "I don't know anything about the red dragons, other than that they're clearly clotheshorses, but Gabriel... hmmm. He might help me find the hermit if I asked him."

  "You would ask another for assistance when you have me?" Tiffany stopped buffing a fingernail to give me an outraged look.

  "You said your skills would be in drawing the hermit out from where he was hiding once we found the general location," I pointed out. "Unless you want to walk every square inch of every park outside the city, I'm going to need more help, And if there's one thing I've learned from my time with Drake, it's that dragons can be very resourceful when they want to be."

  She sniffed and looked away. "Why do you not ask this Drake person to help you? Jim says he is a wyvern and you are his mate, which means he must do as you ask."

  I had a good long mental giggle over the thought of Drake doing as I asked, sobering when I realized that his earlier maneuvering might actually benefit me as much as him. "You know, you just may have something there, Tiff, Drake is going to owe me after this lunch—oh, crap, the lunch! What time is it? Is it anywhere near two?"

  "Any."

  "Huh?" What on earth was her problem? Tiffany was giving me a thin-lipped look that left her shy happy eyes expressing a whole lot of pointed discontent.

  "'Any. My name, it is Tiffany. Mama named me for the very elegant shop that sells jewelry in New York, New York."

  "Oh. Sorry."

  She nodded primly and glanced at her wrist. "It is ten minutes after two o'clock."

  "Crap, crap, and double crap. Rene! We have to go! Right now!"

  I did an agitated little dance as Rene and Jim hurried toward us, mentally writing the apology I'd make to Drake when I arrived back at the hotel, late, not dressed in green, and sweaty from driving all around the city in a non-air-conditioned car.

  Sometimes it seemed like life was really against me.

  9

  AS I feared, the dragons' lunch was well under way when Jim and I arrived at the atrium at the back of the hotel, overlooking the muddy brown (never blue, I found out from Tiffany) Danube River.

  "Hi. Sorry I'm late," I said breathlessly as I stopped in front of the large round table that dominated the small restaurant. Fronds of tall, spiky palms waved gracefully as Jim and I rushed past them to the two empty seats next to Drake. "Traffic was horrible. There's been no,.. uh ... plague talk or anything, has there?"

  The men at the table rose, leaving the Chinese woman the only one seated. Drake waved an elegant hand at them, saying, "You are acquainted with Fiat and his men."

  I murmured a polite hello, first making sure my mental guards were up to keep Fiat out of my head.

  "The man to the left of Renaldo is Gabriel Tauhou, the wyvern of the silver dragons. Accompanying him are Tipene and Maata."

  I realized as the two silver dragon bodyguards bowed that the taller of the two, the one named Maata, was a woman. All three dragons had beautiful coffee-colored skin, short glossy black hair, and astonishingly bright gray eyes, but hefty as Tipene was, Maata had a glint to her eyes that made me think she was the more dangerous of the two.

  "Nice to meet you. Hi again, Gabriel."

  "Hi… again?" Drake asked, his jaw tightening as he swung around to pin me back with an emerald-eyed glare. "You know Gabriel?"

  "Aisling and I met last night," Gabriel said with a slight smile. His eyes, however, danced merrily, which made me think he was enjoying teasing Drake. "She was in some difficulty, and I was happy to be of service to her."

  "He sucked her arm," Jim said, climbing onto one of the free chairs. 'There was tongue everywhere. It was a horrible thing to see."

  Drake's fire—usually carefully banked—roared to life within him as I shot Jim a fulminating glare before turning back to the irate dragon next to me. "It's not like the demon is making it sound."

  "Did you know that you only call me 'the demon' when you're pissed at me?"

  I ignored Jim's attempt to bait me. Drake didn't have a terribly passive temper, and if I wanted to avoid horrible repercussions to the world as I knew it, I'd have to keep him calm so he didn't trigger a modern plague epidemic.

  "Someone stole the amulet I'm supposed to deliver, and my arm got knifed in the process, Gabriel stopped the bleeding, then got my amulet back. That's all there was to it."

  "She was not hurt seriously," Gabriel added. "Otherwise F would, as is my duty, have taken her into protective custody."

  I almost groaned, instead thinning my lips at Gabriel and sending him a look that demanded he cease and desist,

  Drake stiffened beside me, his voice as smooth and cold as Italian marble as he said, "Aisling is my mate. Do you wish to challenge me for her, Tauhou?"

  Silence fell in the atrium, broken only by the faint chirping of birds in a huge aviary that spanned one wall. Evidently the dragons had reserved the entire restaurant, because there were no other patrons, not even a waitper-son in sight. My breath stopped for a moment while I joined everyone else to watch Gabriel. Then I remembered that I was there under protest and wasn't the wimpy, weak sort of woman who allowed other people to make decisions about her life.

  "If anyone is going to challenge for me, it's going to be me," I said, somewhat irrationally. "Now, can we stop this pissing contest and get on with things? There's a poltergeist seminar I'd like to attend in an hour."

  Drake didn't move as I tried to tug him down into his chair. His eyes remained locked on Gabriel. The latter smiled even brighter as he glanced toward me, making a slight gesture of surrender.

  "I do not challenge you for your mate, Vireo." I don't know if everyone breathed a sigh of relief at Gabriel's words, but I sure did. Until he went and ruined it. "Yet."

  Drake made him a formal bow. "I await your pleasure."

  "Oh, for heaven's sake.Can we stop with the manly .: . er ... dragonly posturing, please? No one is challenging anyone."

  "Someone already has,'* Istvan mu
ttered under his breath, shooting me a look that could pierce cement.

  Drake evidently saw reason (at last) because he gestured toward the rest of the dragons. "Beyond Maata is Shing and Sying, elite guards of LungTik Chuan Ren, the wyvern of the red dragons. Her mate is Li."

  Li gave me a tight-lipped smile, turning solicitously toward his wyvern. Chuan Ren wore a scarlet dress so heavily embroidered with gold, pearls, hematite, and jade that it must have weighed a ton. The front laced up to the bottom of her breastbone, leaving most of her chest exposed, her nipples just barely hidden by the wide red ribbon lacing. It was sexy, scandalous, and deliberately worn to be as provocative as possible, and I knew the minute her assessing gaze passed over my rumpled, sweat-stained gauze skirt and blouse that she dismissed me as being not worth her consideration.

  "Your name, it is a man's?" she asked in nearly unaccented English.

  "No, my name, it is Irish. But very female." I rustled up a polite smile before sitting in the chair Drake held for me, reminding myself that all I had to do was sit and nod and just make it through the lunch without Fiat throwing a monkey wrench in the peace talks, or the dragons starting a plague on humankind, or Jim embarrassing me any further. Three little things, that's all I had to do. Four if you counted getting Drake aside long enough to warn him that Fiat was up to no good.

  Drake snapped his fingers, and out of a dense clutch of palms a waiter in black appeared, hurrying toward me with two plates of salad in his hands. He paused before Jim, giving the demon a curious glance, but at a word from Drake he placed the salad carefully on the table before turning to me.

  Endive, arugula, and escarole scattered everywhere as the waiter suddenly flung the plate down and threw himself on me, his mouth pressed against my neck, his hands caressing me.

  "Um," I said. Every single person at the table was staring at me, eyebrows raised at the sight of a waiter slurping away on my neck while groping my nearby available body parts. I scooped a few bits of greens back onto the salad plate and lifted my fork. "So, how are the negotiations going?"

  Drake cocked a glossy black eyebrow, his voice dry as he asked, "Is there something you wish to share with us, mate?"

  "Share?" I asked, my voice cracking as between kisses the waiter murmured soft words into my collarbone, his hands sweeping upward to my breasts. I plucked them off and put them back on my waist. "I haven't the slightest idea what you mean. Oh, him?" I laughed a gay little Laugh. Or I tried to—what came out was more than a little tinged with hysteria. "You mean this man glued to my front? Think nothing of it. I believe my great and overwhelming charm is overcoming men, and helpless against me, they—"

  I stopped. I had to. Not even in my wildest, most unrealistic dreams did I believe that it was plain old Aisling Grey who had men suddenly powerless with lust. Something supernatural was going on, and I finally had the sense to admit it.

  Drake said something in Hungarian that had the waiter lifting his head from my neck, but the rest of him was still pressed tightly against me. He shook his head and refused to leave me. Drake insisted. I sat helpless, embarrassed as hell, mentally going over everything I had done since arriving in Hungary to figure out what it was that was making me irresistible.

  "Never mess with a dragon's mate," Jim warned the waiter seconds before Drake's fire flashed in his eyes. The waiter let go of me then, flinging himself from me to run screaming from the room.

  "I didn't know you could set people's hair on fire with just a look," I told Drake.

  He shrugged. "You never asked. Now let us see what it is that is causing such trouble." His long fingers were warm on my collarbone as he plucked out the chain holding the dragon talisman. Immediately, twelve pairs of eyes lit up.

  "No!" I said firmly, giving each and every dragon present a quelling look. "It has hardly any gold on it, and it's not valuable, and it's mine, you all got that? Mine! No one takes it!"

  Chuan Ren looked closely at it for a moment before brushing it away with her scarlet and gold-tipped fingernails. "It is the Qing dynasty. Very poor quality."

  "The talisman is not what is causing your difficulties," Drake said, his fingers dipping down under my blouse.

  "Hey!" I said, momentarily scandalized before his hand emerged with the amulet. I wasn't fooled, though. His fingers had done a little extra touching while down in the Valley o' Breasts.

  He pulled the thin chain- bearing the amulet over my head, holding the piece up to catch the sunlight that streaked in through the palm leaves, the amber and white crystal gleaming brightly as he turned it. "What do the markings say?"

  "I have no idea. My uncle thought they were Etruscan. The provenance says the piece came from an Italian collector of Pompeian artifacts, so it might well be—kind of a side interest, I guess."

  "Allow me to see it," Fiat said, reaching for the amulet.

  "No!" I shouted, leaning forward to snatch the crystal out of Drake's hand. Fiat's eyes narrowed at me, his nostrils flaring with anger over my apparent rudeness.

  "I'm sorry, but no one gets to touch this. It's not mine to share. It belongs to someone else, and until I deliver it I'm responsible for its safekeeping."

  "Aisling, Fiat has asked to see the amulet, not steal it from you." Drake's voice was low and persuasive, but I wasn't going to allow it to seduce me into handing over the amulet.

  "I might be able to translate the markings for you,I' Fiat added, his lips stretched into a tight smile that didn't match the coldness in his eyes. "I have some experience with ancient languages of Italy."

  "Thank you, That's very kind. I'll be sure to tell the buyer of your generous offer."

  "Aisling," Drake said in my ear, his voice as soft.and caressing as the fingers that stroked the back of my neck. "You are being impolite. This summit is a time for the septs to put away their differences and work toward common understanding. Your distrust of Fiat will unmake all the work we have done so far."

  I smiled at everyone, a great big smile, while hissing awkwardly through my teeth at Drake, "Just how stupid do you think I am? Once Fiat gets his hands on the amulet, I'll never see it again,"

  "He would not dare take it from you." Drake's breath was hot on my ear, sending little skittles of fire down my neck to shiver down my back.

  My voice rose in indignation. The occupants of the table watched with fascinated interest as I pushed Drake away and pulled the amulet over my head, tucking it back down into my shirt before crossing my arms over my chest. "Oh, he wouldn't, huh? Just like you wouldn't steal my aquamanile and refuse to give it back?"

  His fingers paused for a moment, then slid down my back in a gentle caress that did nothing to reassure me. "That is different."

  "Really? How is it different?"

  "You gave me the aquamanile. You said you trusted only me to keep it and the other Tools of Bael."

  "I didn't give it to you. You took it. You stole it from me! I just let you keep it. There's a difference."

  "I grow weary of this," Chuan Ren said, pushing her plate back. "Your mate shows much disrespect, Drake. Punish her, give Fiat the crystal, and let us get on with more important matters."

  I bristled at her demand. "Now, just wait a second, sister—"

  She rose up out of her chair, her eyes huge with outrage. "I am not your sister—"

  "Mate, I must insist—"

  "You want that salad, Ash? This diet is going to be the death of me—"

  All hell broke loose at that point. Literally. It wasn't just the babble of voices as everyone at the table started talking at once, the indignant demands from Fiat and his boys that I hand over the amulet, or the screeching of Chuan Ren that signaled the opening of the portal to Hell. No, it was the sudden appearance in the middle of the table of a man in hot-pink fishnet stockings, matching leather corset, and turquoise feather tutu that let everyone know that something was seriously wrong.

  "Fires of Abaddon, Ilarax, what are you wearing? Don't tell me you've gone transvestite!" Drake pulled me aw
ay as Jim put its front paws on the table and snuffled the demon's nearest leg. "Aw, damn, it's true. You've gone girly."

  "What the—"

  "Don't say it," Drake growled, clamping a hand over my mouth as he pulled me backwards to the relative safety of a pillar framed with palms. "Never say that word in the presence of an open portal."

  "Guardian!" Chuan Ran shouted, pointing her finger at me. "Close this portal immediately!"

  The demon in drag squawked, its voice shattering the water glasses on the table. From a shimmering area at its feet, dozens of tiny little pink and turquoise creatures burst forth, scampering over the table, leaping onto the chairs and the floor with tiny little eek-eek yips.

  "Man, he's gone and tinted his imps to match his costume." Jim jumped off the table, shaking its head as it walked toward us. "Now that's the sign of a demon needing some serious therapy time."

  "Imps?" I said. "You mean they're real? They're not some sort of weirdo Otherworld joke?"

  "Do they look like a joke?" Drake asked, shaking a turquoise imp off from where it was gnawing on his shoelace. When the little creature made like it was going to return to his shoe, Drake narrowed his eyes and allowed a little smoke to trickle out of his nose. The imp squeaked in horror and ran to join a few of its brethren in an attempt to push a crystal glass off a nearby table.

  "Do you want the honest answer, or the thoughtful and erudite one that I as a future Guardian would give? Jim! What in heaven's name are you doing?"

  Jim's head whipped around to look at me, two tiny turquoise feet twitching between its lips. Jim gulped, ran its tongue around its lips, and blinked innocently. "What?"

  "Bad demon! You're on a diet, and besides, it's not nice to eat imps! They're kind of cute even if they are a bit troublesome—" Three pink imps succeeded in knocking a water goblet over, dancing a happy little victory dance around the soggy tablecloth. One of them stopped in front of me, turned around, and bent over until its pointy little chin touched its knees. "Oh my god, did that little monster just moon me?"