Fire Me Up (20 page)

"I have no idea," I grunted, Jim's heavy weight pulling
painfully on my back and shoulders. I had to keep blinking back tears that
pricked behind my eyes, tears that I knew were ridiculous. Demons can't die. The
form they take can be destroyed, but they themselves can't die. I didn't know
quite exactly what they did if life was extinguished from their temporary body,
but I suspected it wasn't anything pleasant. More to the point, I knew Jim loved
its body. It had chosen a Newfie above all other forms because it thought them
the most handsome of all sentient beings. While most demons chose a human form
to appear in—humans being the most powerful of all the mortal world—Jim chose to
become a dog, and I would be damned before I let that big, shaggy, lovable body
be lost.

By the time we made it to the entrance, even Tiffany was
red-faced and puffing a little. We set Jim down on a bench while I ran to the
entrance booth, Tiffany alongside me to act as translator.

"Is there a vet here?" I asked, waving my hand toward the
bench where Jim lay unconscious, Rene hovering protectively next to it. "My dog
accidentally ate some of the deer food, and it's sick, very, very, sick. Can
someone help us?"

Tiffany translated quickly to the woman taking money from
visitors. The woman looked alarmed, craning her head to peer around me to see
Jim, but I knew from the way she shook her head that her answer wasn't a good
one. I spun around, scanning the area, praying for some sort of miracle even
while I knew there was none.

Tiffany lightly touched my arm. "The woman, she says the vet
comes to visit only on special days."

My stomach lurched. A couple of tears escaped my eyes to roll
down my cheeks. I bit my lip, trying to push back the horrible knowledge that
Jim's body was dying. I had to do something. I was its demon lord, for heaven's
sake—it was my responsibility. I had summoned it, and although I had
inadvertently bound it to me, it was my duty to look after the big hairy lug.

"Then we're just going to have to go find the nearest vet," I
snarled, running back to Rene. We lifted the demon between us, hauling it out to
the parking lot. Tiffany, who had returned to consult with the woman behind the
entrance kiosk, ran past us to the car, opening the back door and helping us put
Jim in.

"There is a veterinarian a few kilometers down the road," she
said, sliding into the front seat next to Rene. "I will direct you."

Jim's head lolled senselessly on my lap as Rene drove. I gave
up fighting the tears, stroking the demon's head, holding back sobs that made my
throat ache. Crying wouldn't help Jim. Only a miracle, the miracle that had not
materialized in the wildlife park, could help the demon now.

An hour later we emerged from the loud and somewhat
antiquated confines of the animal health clinic mentioned to Tiffany by the
wildlife park attendant. Despite the heat of the day, I felt cold, both inside
and out. I rubbed my bare arms as we walked slowly to Rene's cousin's taxi.

"
The demon Jim, he will be all right now," Rene said with
mock cheerfulness that I knew was intended to impart reassurance. "The doctor
said that would be so, hein?"

"I guess," I answered, not willing to burst Rene's bubble in
case he really did believe Jim was out of trouble. What the vet had said, duly
translated by Tiffany, and later Rene when Tiffany couldn't stand the animal
surgery area, was that the vet thought Jim had ingested a toxic plant or berry,
but wouldn't know until they analyzed the results of the stomach pumping. Rene
turned over the handful of grain and plant matter he had culled from the deer
trough. I stood silent, watching Jim's still unconscious form, my hand on its
neck. Beneath the fur, the demon's heart beat slowly, I closed my eyes and
opened myself up, trying to touch its spirit, but there was nothing there for me
to hold.

"Is it over?" Tiffany asked, white-faced, clutching her hands
as she stood next to the taxi. "The demon Jim, it is..."

"Resting," I answered when her voice trailed off. I blinked
back a couple more tears, this time of gratitude that Tiffany would be so
concerned about a demon she'd just met. "The doctor thinks they got all the
toxins out, but he said Jim would be out of it until tomorrow morning."

"
That is very good," she said, taking my hand in hers for a
moment. "Resting is very good for animals, is it not? The demon, it will recover
its strength, and be back by your side to bring joy and happiness to everyone it
meets."

I almost choked on the thought of Jim bringing joy and
happiness to anyone, but smiled and said nothing, sitting in the back of the
taxi, allowing Tiffany's terminally optimistic chatter to wash over me as we
drove back into town.

It was only when Rene dropped us off at the hotel that I
remembered I hadn't delivered the amulet to Gyorgy the hermit.

The lunch banquet had just ended when Tiffany and I walked
into the hotel lobby. She murmured something about needing to spend some time in
the sun perfecting her tan.

"A day without the sun is like a day without a smile shared
with everyone you see, and that is a tragedy, don't you think? I will practice
my ice princess smile while I am on the verandah. Do you wish to join me?" she
said, eyeing my pale, freckled arms.

"No, thanks. I've got appointments this afternoon, and
besides, I burn easily. My smile will just have to be shared from the confines
of a pasty, tanless body. Thanks for all your help today, Tiffany. I really
appreciate it."

She patted me on the shoulder. "Did I not tell you that I
would be of great use to you? Now you know the power of a professional virgin."

"It is an awesome thing to behold," I agreed, without one
single quiver of my lips, which I thought was awfully darn good of me. Tiffany
tripped off to her room. I checked the conference message board quickly in case
either of the two Guardians with whom I had arranged interviews had begged off,
but there was nothing for me.

As I approached the elevators, a familiar man passed me,
pausing to say, "You will—"

"Stop it right there!" I yelled, interrupting Paolo the
Diviner before he could cause any more trouble for me. People in the area turned
to look at us. I lowered the volume of my voice, but kept my tone as mean as I
could. "I have no idea why you've decided to become my personal voice of doom,
but I would appreciate it if you would stop telling me that I'm going to trip,
or spill stuff on myself, or be arrested, or any of the thousand other disasters
I'm sure you behold in my future, because frankly, I don't want to know. OK?"

Paolo looked offended. His nostrils flared. He backed up a
step, looking down his long nose at me, his lips pressed together tightly.

"I'm sorry to be so brusque," I said, realizing I had
insulted him. "And I want you to know that I appreciate your concern for my
well-being"—a little white lie never hurt anyone—"but I will take my chances
with life on my own."

He said nothing, just raised a supercilious eyebrow at me.

"Thank you," I said, figuring that he might leave me alone if
I thanked him for his effort. "Uh ... have a nice day."

Paolo continued to stare silently at me as I made a little
good-bye wave and walked toward the elevator.

I got in it with three other people, all chatting about the
delicious lunch served at the banquet. Paolo continued to stand like a statue,
staring at me with cold, dark eyes.

The doors started to close, I heaved a mental sigh of relief
that I had escaped his dire prognostications.

 "—face one who wishes you gone," Paolo finished, triumph
flashing across his face as the elevator doors closed with a soft swoosh.

"Like that's some sort of news flash," I muttered, smiling a
toothy smile when the woman next to me cast a questioning glance at me.

It was odd walking down the long hotel hallway without Jim at
my side. Since I had summoned the demon, just a little more than a month before,
we hadn't been parted for longer than a few hours. Yes, it was a demon, and yes,
it wasn't technically alive, but smart mouth, nagging tendencies, and demands
for frequent feeding and walks notwithstanding, it was also my friend. I missed
the big hairy galoot.

"My room is going to seem awfully empty without Jim taking up
all the space," I said softly to myself as I slid the plastic key card into the
slot on my door, opening the door with plans of a quick shower before I ran
downstairs to meet with the two Guardians. "Hell's bells! Not again!"

The room was indeed emptier without Jim—extremely empty. Of
all my possessions, that is. Everything of mine was gone—my suitcases, my
clothing, Jim's paraphernalia, everything! It was as if someone had come in and
wiped the room clean of me.

I turned on my heel and started for the front desk, growling
to myself about what I was going to say to the police. "How dare they confiscate
my things! It was bad enough in Paris when they took my stuff, but at least they
mailed everything back to me a couple of weeks later. This time, I'm going to
get pushy. I'll go straight to the U.S. Embassy and demand that they—in,
Istvsin."

Drake's red-haired bodyguard gave me a stiff bow, his muddied
hazel eyes as hard as stone. Istvan had never really forgiven me for a slight
accident that resulted in him being mistaken by me for a dartboard. I couldn't
blame him for being a bit testy over that, although I had apologized profusely
at the time. No permanent damage had been done, but Istvan hadn't seemed to be
able to move on. "I am sent to bring you."

I glanced at my watch. "It's only a little after one. Drake
said the green dragon party wasn't until seven."

Istvan looked like a bodyguard. Both he and Pal were as tall
as Drake, but where Drake was elegant and exuded a sense of coiled power held in
check, Istv&n was blocky and thick-muscled, looking more like a cross between a
bodybuilder and a linebacker. His heavy brows remained in a straight line as he
glared at me. "You come. The wyvern commands."

"Oh, he commands me?" I was in no mood to go head-to-head
with Drake, not when I had a police department to tackle, two Guardians to meet
and sway with my perfectness for an apprenticeship, and a vast amount of
worrying to do about Jim. Suddenly it seemed like too much for me so rather
than get prickly and tell Istvan just where Drake could stuff his command, I
nodded wearily and followed him silently to the elevator, saying nothing until
he pushed open the door to the green dragon's suite.

Right there in the middle of the living room was a blanket
folded into a dog bed, Jim's traveling foldable water bowl sitting next to it,
along with the demon's extra drool bibs, its brush, spare leash, and the couple
of copies of People that Jim insisted I buy to keep it from being bored.

I burst into tears.

Istvan looked at me like I was covered in boils. Pal emerged
from a room and hurried over, his face twisted in concern. "Aisling, what is
wrong? Are you in pain? Has someone harmed you? Drake is not here, but I can
call him—"

"No, it's OK," I sniffled, pulling a few tissues from the box
he offered. "It's just been kind of a long day."

He looked at a clock sitting on a nearby gateleg table. "It
is just an hour past midday."

"I know." I blew my nose as discreetly as I could. "That's
what worries me. What did Drake want, and why do you have Jim's things? Do you
have mine as well?"

Pal nodded, gesturing toward the double doors that led to
the master bedroom. "Drake said that now you had accepted him as wyvern, you
would be living with us."

Istvan muttered something under his breath before throwing
himself down in a nearby chair. I ignored him. I'd have to make my peace with
him at some point, but I was too tired to struggle with him now,

"Drake was being presumptuous, but I'll take that up with
him. At least now I don't have to battle the police on top of everything else."
I started to turn toward the room, but he reached out a hand as if he was going
to stop me, then snatched it back quickly. I gave him a curious look. "Did you
want something?"

He glanced nervously at Istvan, who promptly grabbed a
Hungarian magazine and started reading it. "It is just that you seem...sad."

"I am sad. Jim is in a vet clinic on the outskirts of town.
It ate something poisonous and almost destroyed its body. I'm very worried."

"But even if it does need to take a new form, the demon will
be the same," Pal said helpfully.

I nodded, then shook my head, then ran my fingers through my
hair. My activities with Drake the night before hadn't left us time for much
sleep, and with everything else going on, my brain was starting to feel a bit
ragged around the edges. "I know, but it won't be Jim. I'm going to take a
shower, then I have to leave for a bit. If you see Drake, tell him,.." I
struggled to think of something that wasn't too snarky but would let Drake know
I didn't appreciate him taking the high hand with me. "Tell him I'll talk to him
about this tonight."