Holy Smokes (34 page)

“Thanks. So, where are the Pearly Gates?” I asked Rene.

“There are many entrances to the Court,” he answered with a particularly vicious yank on the steering wheel to avoid a group of joggers. “But the nearest one is back in London. In the men’s restroom in Hyde Park.”

“You’re kidding,” I said, giving him a close look to see if he was pulling my leg.

“Not at all. It is not a very nice restroom, but it serves its purpose.”

So it was that two hours later I found myself ducking into a run-down, beat-up wooden building in a little-used section of Hyde Park, half-hidden by trees. “How come they have their entrance here?” I asked, my nose wrinkling as I followed Rene to the last stall. The walls of the bathroom were slightly green tinted, as if mildewed, and the smell was a nasty mixture of cheap toilet cleaner and rotted leaves. “Don’t people run into it all the time?”

“See for yourself,” he said, opening the stall door with a grand gesture. Although the stall itself was tiny, in the center of it a ward glowed briefly.

“It’s warded! Well, that would explain it. So I just go in?”

“Yes. I will follow you.”

Pushing through the perdu ward was not difficult, al though for a moment everything seemed to spin around, but then I was standing on the cobblestoned street of what appeared to be a small medieval village.

If small medieval villages had latte stands…and shops with brightly colored clothing, and people zipping around the cobblestones on Vespas.

“This is Heaven?” I asked, taking in the tall spires, tiled roofs, and half-timbered buildings.

“It is the Court of Divine Blood. The two are not the same thing.” Rene pointed toward a grand-looking marble building that sat off to one side. “The library. It is in there that we will find the almoner.”

“OK. Is that a McDonald’s?” I asked as the door to one of the buildings we were passing opened, and a woman came out with two brown paper bags. “Fast food in Heaven? Isn’t that wrong?”

“Shh. One does not look too closely at the little sins of the Court. The office we want is on the ground floor, just there, you see?”

Evidently the almoner was a popular guy, because we had to give our names at a reception desk before taking our places on hard wooden benches with about ten other people.

“What is the almoner going to do, do you know?” I asked Rene in a whisper. “How many hoops am I going to have to jump through to have them lift the proscription? They aren’t going to demand another sacrifice, are they? Because really, I don’t think I have much left to sacrifice except Drake, and that’s so not happening.”

“Pfft. You spend too much time in the worrying. The almoner will tell you what he wants of you to grant the removal of the proscription.”

That didn’t do much to ease my mind. “Given my past history, it’ll be my kidney. Or my soul,” I muttered darkly.

Rene ignored me to read up on the latest Hollywood gossip, as provided by a glossy magazine. He tutted over a story about a popular actress. “She always did have such a strong will. Just like you—I never could do anything but try to catch up to her.”

I gawked at the magazine. “You know J-Lo? You mean you…you…
fated
her?”

“Perhaps,” he said, inscrutable as ever. “I have enjoyed my time with you much more, though. I prefer dragons and demons to the strange beings who inhabit Hollywood.”

That thought distracted me for a few minutes. Unfortunately, by the time we were called into the almoner’s office, I had worked myself into a swivet and was convinced that I would never have the proscription removed.

It was with much trepidation and no little sense of depression that I entered a small but pleasant office. The almoner sat at a desk, a nondescript man of medium height and build, with brown hair and friendly brown eyes.

“Good afternoon. I am Terrin. And you are?”

“Aisling Grey. This is my friend, Rene.”

“Ah, the daimon, yes, I believe we met a few centuries ago. Welcome to the Court, Aisling,” Terrin said with a pleasant smile. “Please sit. You are here for…let me see…” He punched a few keys on the laptop sitting in front of him on the desk. “I’m sorry, I’m not normally the almoner; he’s out with a family emergency so I’m filling in for him. If you can just bear with me for a moment or two while I locate your file…”

It struck me as a bit odd that someone bearing the name almoner was using a laptop, but I forbore from pointing out the anachronism.

“Ah, yes, there you are. Aisling Grey. My, you are a busy lady. Guardian, wyvern’s mate, demon lord, and…prince of Abaddon?” Terrin looked up in surprise.

“
Former
prince of Abaddon,” I said, passing him the expulsion.

“So I see.” He took the form and typed in a few things before looking over the screen at me. “And your status as a demon lord? That is also nil?”

“Um…no. I have only one demon, though.” I bit my lower lip. “That’s…that’s not going to screw things up, is it? Because my demon isn’t a real demon. That is, it was one of you guys, and it got booted out and made a demon, but it’s a demon sixth class and is actually not evil at all.”

“Ah,” he said, enlightenment dawning in his eyes. “Effrijim! Yes, I remember him. He had quite the sense of humor.”

“That pretty much sums it up, yes. So, is that going to be a problem?”

Terrin made a little face. “I do not believe we’ve ever granted a sanction to a demon lord. You would not be willing to give up Effrijim?”

“No,” I said, lifting my chin and giving him a firm look. “I wouldn’t.”

“Brava,” Rene said quietly, patting my knee.

“I see.” Terrin looked back at his laptop, hit a couple of keys, and asked, “And the other information is current? You are still a Guardian and a wyvern’s mate?”

A little shaft of pain threatened to unwind within me, but I stomped down hard on it. “I am still a wyvern’s mate. I am…” My throat closed for a moment. I cleared it and tried again. “I am no longer a Guardian.”

“Really?”

“Bael demanded that I disavow my Guardian status in order to receive the expulsion,” I explained, wondering if the day would come when I wouldn’t want to burst into tears at the thought of what I’d given up.

“Did he, now? That was very cruel of him, but then, cruel is more or less his middle name, isn’t it? Let’s see…I believe that is everything.” He typed in a few more things and gave me a polite smile. “Judy at the front desk will have your statement of sanction. You can pick it up on your way out.”

I have a horrible feeling I gawked at him at that point. “Pick it up? You mean…that’s it? I’m no longer proscribed?” I glanced at Rene, who looked just as surprised as I felt. Could it be that easy? I shook my head at myself. Nothing, not since that first day I stepped into the Orly Airport with the aquamanile in my hands, nothing had been easy.

“Yes. Oh, no, I tell a lie,” he said, frowning at the laptop.

I knew it! I braced myself, waiting for the bad news. What was it they wanted…to give up Jim? Drake?
Living
?

“I hit shift instead of enter. Silly me.” He punched a button, then smiled again. “Now you’re set!”

“But…you don’t want something from me?”

“Er…what would I want from you?” he asked, puzzlement wrinkling his brow.

“I don’t know! My soul, or for me to hack off a limb with a butter knife, or…or…I don’t know! I just figured this sanction was going to cost me
something.
”

“It sounds to me like it has already cost you much pain.”

I continued to gawk at him until he gave a little sigh, got up and took me by the hands, gently pulling me to my feet, and with a hand on my back, escorted me down the short hallway to the reception area. “My dear, this is the Court of Divine Blood. I won’t say that there are not times when petitioners are asked payment for services rendered, but we do not, on the whole, operate as you are used to with those folks in Abaddon. We like to think of ourselves as the good guys. We like to take care of our people.”

A bloom of hope unfurled within me. Could it be this easy after all? “But I’m not a member of the Court.”

“No, alas, demon lords are not allowed membership. But we do like to keep tabs on those people we feel are fighting the good fight, and you definitely qualify for that.”

I did, until I lost the ability to fight. I pushed away that nagging thought and focused on the miracle that had just been handed me. “Then…I’m done? The proscription is over?”

He nodded.

“I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel different? Shouldn’t there have been—oh, I don’t know—some sign like a bolt from above cleansing my soul?”

“That sounds singularly uncomfortable,” he answered. “I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for understated sanction rather than a splashy Broadway extravaganza of absolution.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I simply thanked him.

“You’re quite welcome. I’m delighted I could help you, and trust you’ll find the process wasn’t quite as onerous as you believed it would be.”

It was over! I wasn’t proscribed anymore! No more tears of blood, no more horrible contacts to hide my eyes…no more being banned from the Guardians’ Guild.

My heart felt like it was made out of lead. “Is there a ladies’ room here?”

Terrin blinked in surprise. “Er…yes, just there. Second door on the left.”

“Thanks.” I bolted for the bathroom, intent on ridding myself of the contacts before my tears washed them away.

“Does she always feel the need to run to the restroom to celebrate good news?” I heard Terrin ask Rene.

“Eh. She is a woman, you know?”

I hurried to the mirror in the bathroom, carefully removing one contact. I half braced myself for the sight of a pale gray eye to peer back at me, but the eyeball that watched me so warily was one of a familiar hazel color.

The proscription had really and truly been lifted…but too late. I wasn’t a Guardian anymore.

I grabbed a box of tissues and ran for a stall to cry.

“
O
ut of all the billions of people who inhabit this planet, Drake and Aisling have found each other and committed to share their lives together as husband and wife. They have begun their life journey together and have brought us here to celebrate this beautiful moment in that journey.”

I smiled at Drake. He squeezed the fingers of the hand he was holding.

“A good marriage is an entity that is made up of love, understanding, intimacy, and a generosity of spirit that allows you to put aside petty differences and care for each other no matter what the circumstances. Drake and Aisling have vowed to do just that, and have asked us here today to witness those vows.”

The voice of the odd little round man Paula had found willing to fit us into his schedule echoed loudly in the small, out-of-the-way chapel. It had taken her two weeks to arrange this wedding, and me almost as long to convince her to stay in England to attend it. Our numbers were a lot fewer than the first one—my cousins had long since returned home, as had David, whose job at an Oregon university demanded his attendance. Most of the green dragons who had gathered in England had also returned to their homes. But a few had shown up, as well as my friends.

So why, then, was a vague sense of alarm starting to prick my awareness?

“Drake and Aisling, before you I have placed three candles, one each to symbolize your separate selves, and one to symbolize your unity. Please light your separate candles and use them together to light the marriage candle, pledging as you do so to keep your union as bright as the flames of your candles.”

I wasn’t much for the rather dramatic flair the officiating man had, but obediently lit a candle, then used it to light a larger one with a golden heart embossed on it.

Next to me, Paula sniffled happily. “This is so beautiful!” she whispered.

I nodded, and used the opportunity to peek over my shoulder at the audience, wondering if I could pinpoint my sense of unease. Pál was in the front with his arm around Nora (they made such a cute couple). Rene sat next to them with a pretty, petite red-headed woman of indeterminate age whom he had introduced as his wife, Brigitte. István and Suzanne sat on the other front pew, alongside Gabriel and his bodyguards. Gabriel caught me peeking and grinned, his dimples flashing. I winked back, grateful he’d come despite knowing that Kostya would be here.

I was even more grateful that Kostya was on his best behavior. Relations between Drake and him had been strained for ten days, but finally, just before the wedding, the two of them cleared the air with a rip-roaring fight that left Drake with a broken nose, and Kostya with a limp that persisted for forty-eight hours. True, it didn’t end in a political reconciliation, but at least the two brothers were talking to each other again. I had confidence that with time, Drake would be able to make his brother see reason.

Jim stepped on my foot.

I returned my attention to the man as he went on about renewing our faith in each other and allowing the marriage to breathe with the air of love and support. I tried to pay attention to him, but the vague something was starting to take on a more alarming state. I ran down a mental checklist of everything I’d had to do and didn’t see what it was that would be causing this feeling.

“What token do you, Drake, offer Aisling as a sign of your commitment to her?”

Kostya, standing at Drake’s side, handed him a platinum ring. I smiled at the sight of it. Drake had told me that gold on my finger would be too distracting and opted to have our rings made of the less attractive (to dragons, anyway) metal.

“Do you, Drake, take Aisling to be your wife? Do you pledge to honor and respect her, and to live in fidelity and love with her from this day for—”

“Excuse me,” I interrupted, turning to Drake. “Something’s wrong.”

“Aisling!” Paula moaned. “Not again!”

A normal man might point out that what was wrong was a woman interrupting her own long-awaited wedding, but Drake was head and shoulders above normal. Instead of asking silly questions, he simply asked me, “Dangerous?”

“I think so. There’s something here that isn’t right.”