| |
––––––––
22 July 2004
She says she is leaving my home. Unbelievable! She said—
“Heya, Drake, Ash told me to tell you that René will be here in ten mins, and she’ll be down shortly to say good-bye and all that stuff. Like my backpack? She bought it this morning so I could carry my stuff in it. I think it looks kind of dashing. Also, you shouldn’t plan on trying to seduce Aisling into staying, because that crap’s not gonna fly.”
Jim, the oddly named demon dog, strolled into Drake’s library wearing a child’s glittery pink backpack strapped around its chest, and interrupted Drake before he could fully put down into his journal his thoughts about Aisling.
He cocked an eyebrow at the demon. “She said that?”
It gave a head bobble. “Well, not the last part. That was me just warning you that she’s being all sorts of extra, and my dude, you don’t want any part of it.”
“As unique an experience as it is to be given advice about my mate from a demon in a fur suit, I believe I will use my own best judgment on the matter,” Drake said, his dragon fire riding high. It had been that way since the evening when Aisling refused to acknowledge the truth of their relationship and remained locked in the room he’d given over for her use.
“Whatevs. I’m just warning you that she’s in a mood from Abaddon. Can I sit on the couch?”
“No.” Drake didn’t intend to actually carry out a conversation with the demon, but curiosity got the better of him, and he spent a moment to consider the dog. It sat next to the couch with what Drake thought of as a dopey expression, but he had to allow that the demon’s eyes gave proof that it was a lot more astute than he’d first thought. “Why are you remaining with her? You could easily have her assign you to someone else, or break the bond between you together. And yet, you remain.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of a long story, and it involves a couple of people who probably wouldn’t thank me for mentioning them—in fact, I had to swear to one of them that I’d pretend I didn’t know her at all—but really, it’s a matter of mutual help. Aisling helps me by not letting me be pulled into some other demon lord’s service, and I keep all the big, bad dragons from overwhelming her.”
Drake only just managed to keep from rolling his eyes. He was an uncomfortable mixture of frustration—sexual and otherwise—and anger that Aisling could so easily throw away her relationship to him and the sept.
“It’s unacceptable,” he murmured, striding over to the window to glare out of it at nothing in particular. “She is my mate. She should be at my side. It is the way of dragonkin.”
“Dunno about all that, but you gotta admit, she pulled off a humdinger of a challenge. I give her a ten out of ten for effectiveness by almost summoning Bael, himself. Not many Guardians out there can do that, you know?”
“I know,” Drake said grimly, and for a second had a presentiment of what life would hold for him being mated to a powerful—if untrained—Guardian. The sort who could summon beings well beyond her experience and knowledge. He wondered what the Guardians’ Guild would make of her, and, for a moment, thought about whether he could compromise and allow her to get the training she so obviously needed while also remaining at his side, as was right and proper for wyverns’ mates. “I did not understand her challenge at first; then I realized she had every intention of losing. It was impossible not to admire the fact that she uncovered the truth of Perdita without any more blood being spilled, but the fact remains that she refuses to accept who and what she is. That I cannot tolerate.”
“Don’t think you have much of a choice, though, do you?” Jim asked, nosing open an electronics magazine that sat on an ebony coffee table. “Oooh. What’s this? Blizzard is starting up a multiplayer game at the end of the year? Man, I used to love playing Warcraft III back when I was at Whiskey Sam’s. All of the phone psychics were addicted to it. Hmm. I’ll have to check out this new one. Maybe Aisling will buy me a joystick. They’re a lot easier to use than a mouse, and not very expensive, right? Yeah. I’ll have her get me a joystick.”
Drake experienced another one of those painful emotional moments where he acknowledged admiration of Aisling’s bravery and ingenuity, but at the same time, the potential power she wielded made him a bit uncomfortable ... and, worse, intrigued to the point of admitting he couldn’t live without her.
What he could not see was a life where they lived separately. She would just have to agree with the reason of his thinking and acquiesce to his wisdom.
“Hmm. Wonder if Aisling has a computer back home. She has to, right? I mean, everyone does these days.” Jim continued to peruse the magazine, while Drake’s thoughts continued to make him uncomfortable.
Wyverns protected their mates. How did Aisling expect him to do so when she was returning to Oregon, and he’d be in Europe?
“What we need is a good desktop computer. One of those jobbies with a lot of RAM and graphics oomph,” Jim said, its voice muffled as it turned the page. “Something that can play The Sims, too.”
Drake admitted that he was out of his depths when it came to making Aisling see the wisdom of his plans, and immediately pivoted to ways to protect her while he worked on bringing her to his way of thinking.
He looked at the demon dog. “Can you use a mobile phone?”
“Huh? Me? Sure. I use a pencil to punch the buttons. But my phone got left behind at Whiskey Sam’s when Aisling summoned me.”
“István!” Drake marched to the door, and spoke briefly to Pal, who was passing through the hall. A minute later, Drake tucked a mobile phone into the dog’s backpack. “This is a spare phone we keep for emergencies. You will not let Aisling know I gave it to you. Do I make myself clear?”
Jim pursed its lips before giving a brief nod. “You keeping tabs on Aisling through me?”
“That is the idea, yes. If she insists on being stubborn by returning to her home without the intention of joining me as she should, then I must do what I can to protect her. You will report to me any actions which put her in danger.” He thought for a moment. “In fact, a daily report would be a good idea. What she does, who she sees, and so on.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” The demon backed up a step. “I’m not going to go stalker for you. I’ll let you know if that blue dragon Fiat comes sniffing around her again, because he just doesn’t smell right, if you know what I mean, but I’m a demon, not a psychopath!”
Drake tamped down the fire that wanted to explode out of him at the idea of Fiat Blu doing something so heinous as trying to take his mate, and instead focused on what was important—Aisling’s protection.
He gave the demon another long look. “You have known her for less than a week, and yet you exhibit loyalty and protectiveness. Just what sort of a demon are you?”
“Sixth class all the way, baby,” Jim drawled.
“Don’t call me baby,” Drake said absently, making a swift decision. He knew full well that Aisling would have more than a few things to say if she knew he was going to ensure her safety while he was deliberating on ways to make her understand the true nature between a dragon and his mate. “Very well, I agree to your terms. You will monitor the situation regarding her and will notify me of anything dangerous.”
“And in return?” Jim had the nerve to ask.
Drake leaned down so that he could pin the demon back with a look that literally had the carpet beneath the dog’s feet smoking. “I don’t roast you alive.”
“Gotcha,” Jim said, backing up until it ran ass-first into the wall. “Sounds good. Thanks for the phone. I don’t suppose there’s any tracking software or anything on it?”
Drake narrowed his eyes. The tip of the demon’s tail lit on fire.
“I was just asking!” Jim said, whirling around a few times to try to catch its tail, which it didn’t accomplish, although the movement did put out the flames. “Sheesh! Maybe get some anger management classes while you’re waiting.”
Drake would have responded, but the demon, seeing the answer in his eyes, bolted through the open door.
“Do you need anything?” Pal asked as he passed the door. “Someone to send the demon back to Abaddon?”
“No.” His thoughts felt unusually jumbled, and he struggled to put them in order. “But I recall hearing of an event in a few months in Budapest. I will check to see if my memory is correct.”
A half hour later, he sat at his desk in the study that, moments before, had seemed so full of life.
And promise.
And a mate who made his dragon fire leap to impossible heights.
Now, with Aisling having left a few minutes ago, it was just a room, one empty and cold and dimmed despite the sunshine streaming into the window.
He rubbed a spot on his solar plexus, feeling for some reason as if he’d taken a morning star to the gut, and sat down at his desk, pulling out the journal.
22 July 2004
She has left Paris. She handed me the Occhio di Lucifer, and simply walked out. I have arranged—
“Drake, there is an Inspector Proust who wishes to speak with you regarding the imprisonment of the Wiccan.” Pal stood in the doorway to Drake’s study and made a wry face. “I put him in the front parlor, since no doubt he would want to speak with Aisling, too.”
“She left,” Drake said, feeling peevish and more than a little stunned. He’d known she was going to do it, but still, how could she simply walk out on him?
“Ah,” Pal said with a nod. “Smart to get out of the way of the mortal police.”
“No, she didn’t leave to avoid the police.” He got to his feet, still feeling as if someone had pulled a very large rug out from under him. “She left me.”
“She what?” Pal’s expression summed up almost exactly the same sense of disbelief that gripped Drake. “Left for where? István! Did you hear? Aisling has left.”
“She has?” István joined Pal and glanced around the study just as if he’d find her lurking in a corner.
Drake embraced the sense of self-righteousness that replaced the disbelief. She was his mate, and she left him. He’d never heard of a mate leaving a wyvern. “She kissed me and then left.”
“How can she do that?” Pal asked, rubbing his nose. “She’s a mate. A wyvern’s mate.”
István muttered something about being able to do better, but Drake thought it best to ignore the comment. He was well aware that István harbored suspicions about Aisling, but there was no doubt in Drake’s mind that Aisling was, at the very least, sincere. She truly had no clue how to be a Guardian, let alone a wyvern’s mate.
“I will have to teach her what it means to be mated to a dragon,” he said as he set down the journal and strode toward the hall. “And that she cannot simply wash her hands of me. Of the sept.”
“No, she can’t. She belongs to us now,” Pal agreed.
“And there’s the challenge. She failed. She has to pay the penalty,” István pointed out, falling into step behind Drake.
“That is of minor concern to me right now,” Drake said before throwing open the door to a small, seldom-used parlor, and marching in to meet the detective who had handled the cases of Mme Deauxville and the Venediger.
It took almost an hour to deal with the mortal police, but at last, the final threads were tied up.
“I have frequently found that those who look the guiltiest are often exactly that,” Proust said as Drake showed him to the door. He paused on the step and glanced out at the perfectly normal sunny Paris street. “But in the case of Mademoiselle Aisling, I am prepared to concede that she has an uncanny habit of turning up at scenes she would better avoid.”
“She has that tendency, yes,” Drake agreed, and shut the door firmly on the man, having had about as much aggravation as he could take in one day.
Just as he was returning to his study, his mother called.
“Drakeling!” Catalina’s voice was filled with emotion. “You will not believe what your cousin is saying about you in Rio. He says you are not the rightful wyvern. As if I suffered for months to bring you to life, begging the Virgin herself to protect you against the derangement of your father, only for some whelp of a dragon to speak thusly about you. You must avenge such slurs!”
Drake, who was originally headed for the desk, made a detour, snatching up a bottle of dragon’s blood before he sank down into a deep leather wingback chair. He didn’t even bother with a glass—he swigged it straight from the bottle while his mother continued to rant and rave about something wholly unimportant to him.
“There is a conference happening soon in Budapest,” Drake said many hours later. He felt remarkably well despite the situation. The fact that he’d ended up drinking three bottles of dragon’s blood might have something to do with that.
“Huh? Who’s this? Drake?” Jim the demon’s words were slow and half-mumbled.
“Yes, of course it is. I have arranged for registration to be offered to Aisling. Please see to it that she attends the conference.”
“Dude. It’s like two in the morning and we got into Portland about six hours ago, so we’re jet-lagged to Abaddon and back. What conference?”
Drake tried to stand, but it took four tries before he was steady on his feet. “It’s called GODTAM. Guardians will be there seeking apprentices. Make sure Aisling understands that she can obtain training from the Guardians who will be present.”
István entered, his eyebrows up in an obvious question of whether he should leave.
Drake shook his head, lost his balance, and flopped down on the sofa with less grace than he preferred.
“OK. That’s kinda tricky, but you know, I like it. She really does need training. She almost lost her shit a couple of hours ago because some deadbeat surfer dude rolled up and demanded money, saying she was late on alimony. Did you know she had been married to a surfer?”
Rage filled him. Rage, and dragon fire, and a deep need to kiss Aisling until she could think of nothing but him. “Give me every detail you have about this mortal. I will see to it that he no longer bothers Aisling.”
“OK, but do you think you could put unlimited data on this phone? ’Cause there’s a new Candy Crush out, and I don’t have the data for it.”
“Give me the information I want, and I will allow you unlimited data,” Drake said, hanging up before eyeing a cushion. The sofa was incredibly comfortable. He imagined napping on it would be wonderful.
“Problems?” István asked, moving into the room. He noted the empty bottles but said nothing, just waited for Drake to respond. “The oracle I bribed to get Aisling an invite to the conference says that only the best of the best are invited to it. I hope it’s worth all that money to get her there.”
It took three minutes before Drake—who’d given in to the temptation offered by the deliciously soft sofa and stretched out on it—managed to rally his thoughts enough to answer. “It will cost more than money if Aisling refuses to see reason.”
“Pal thinks she’s a powerful Guardian,” István said, his expression one of suspicion.
“She is. She is also unlearned.”
“So, if she is trained by other Guardians, won’t she become that much more powerful?” István asked.
Drake closed his eyes. His body felt empty, as if he was a husk of his former self, the pre-Aisling Drake who had spent his life devoted to the sept. One part of his inebriated mind pointed out that not once since he’d met Aisling had he the desire to bed other women. It was as if that part of his life—the doubts, the fears, the worry over his lack of ability to shift—was erased the second he kissed her in Mme Deauxville’s apartment.
Now there was only Aisling.
“Drake?” István picked up the bottles, clearly allowing them to clink loudly.
“I will make sure things don’t go that far,” he answered, then closed his eyes and allowed the alcohol to numb him to the emptiness inside.
