Dragon Storm
Page 48

There were four people in the room, two men, two women, and… I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from screaming at the sight of the fifth person. It was Guillaume, clearly dead.
“Don’t look,” Constantine said gruffly, standing in such a way as to block me from the rest of the room. “There is nothing we can do for him now.”
“Poor Guillaume,” I whispered, and hoped fervently that he hadn’t suffered. He had been an officious little man, but certainly didn’t deserve to be killed.
Of the other four people in the room, I only recognized one: the Venediger. She stood facing us, her expression as black as night, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to strangle someone. A woman with long blond hair and a man with shoulder-length dark hair stood facing the fourth person, the man clearly in a defensive pose.
“Do you know these people?” I asked Constantine in a whisper.
“Yes. They are Baltic and Ysolde.”
So that was the Ysolde he kept talking about. I made a mental note to have a chat with her another time. Right now, it was the man they were facing who worried me most.
As soon as I looked at him I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. He wasn’t even looking our way; he had clearly been speaking to the Venediger, and didn’t bother to see who’d entered the room. He was a demon lord, that was clear enough from the blackish-blue aura that seemed to shimmer in and out of view, and there could only be one person who made Constantine’s fire suddenly roar to life with a vengeance.
I touched the back of his shoulder, saying almost soundlessly, “Is that—”
“Yes. Keep yourself to yourself,” he whispered back.
The words sounded like rock grinding on rock, and for an instant, irritation flared to life within me. Keep myself to myself? What sort of chauvinistic, micro-managing sort of comment was that? And as soon as I found myself bristling with ire, I realized what he meant.
We were in the presence of Bael, a demigod so ruthless, he thought nothing of destroying countless people, including Constantine’s own mother.
I set Gary down on a chair and folded my right hand over the left, concealing the black ring from view.
“I wondered when we would see you,” the dark-haired man said casually, giving Constantine a little nod. His gaze brushed over me without interest, paused at Gary for a few long seconds, then returned to Bael, who sat on the corner of the Venediger’s desk, casually fingering a dagger that had most likely been used as a letter opener.
“What are you doing here?” Constantine asked, addressing Baltic. “He should never have let you come here, Ysolde. It is not safe in Paris.”
Baltic gave a short, humorless bark of laughter at the same time Ysolde made a little face. “You know nothing of women if you think you can control their actions. My mate does as she wishes.”
“That said, I sort of wish I wasn’t here right now,” Ysolde said, casting a pained glance at the body of Guillaume. She scooted closer to Baltic before turning her worried gaze back on Bael.
The Venediger made an inarticulate noise, her face now red with fury. She snarled something very rude at Constantine, adding, “I should have known it would be folly to get involved with dragons. The blame for Guillaume’s death goes squarely on your shoulders, and for that, I will see to it that you never have another day’s peace so long as you live!”
“That’s hardly fair,” Ysolde said, glancing at the Venediger. “Considering that Constantine and his friend weren’t even here when Bael forced his way in and slaughtered your secretary.” She shuddered, which caused Baltic to shift slightly so that he was more than half blocking her.
“One moment,” Bael said, pulling out his cell phone when it burbled at him. “I have a text I must answer. Instructions regarding the princes of Abaddon, you understand. Feel free to talk amongst yourselves until I can once again give you my full attention.”
“Talk amongst…” I shook my head and stopped speaking. It wouldn’t do to point out to a demon lord just how annoying he was.
“None of this would have happened if that one had not attempted to Charm the curse.” The Venediger made an awkward, abrupt gesture toward us. I was filled with sympathy for her, and didn’t even dispute the unjust claim. She was no doubt grieving heavily for poor Guillaume.
Slowly, with studied indifference that I didn’t for a moment buy, Bael looked up from his phone and turned his head to consider us. I took a long look at him, and immediately wished I hadn’t.
He was of medium height, with pale blond hair and washed-out blue eyes. If you discounted the black aura of power surrounding him, he looked perfectly normal, even attractive, although I had heard that he could change his appearance at will.
“Constantine,” he drawled, his face a mask devoid of emotion. Even his eyes were flat and uninterested. His gaze crawled over me for a few seconds, causing little bits of my soul to tear off with cries of anguish, and then suddenly I was free, and he had turned his attention back to Constantine. “So you have come crawling out of oblivion. You will not be surprised if I say that your presence is not needed or welcome.”
I had my hand on Constantine’s back, and thus felt when he reeled backward into me, just as if he’d been dealt a physical blow. It took every ounce of restraint that I had to keep from yelling at Bael to leave his son alone, but the pressure of my fingers around the ring reminded me that in this situation, the lowest profile possible was going to be the best for all of us.
“You know Constantine?” Ysolde asked, looking confused and suspicious at the same time. “What’s going on, Baltic? Why is Bael here?”
“He is here for the light sword of Antonia von Endres,” the Venediger said, her voice choked and rough. Behind her, I could see the safe, its door blasted off the hinges. On the shelves I could make out a fertility statue, a cerise crystal, and the glint of silver metal.
The sword! Of course, that’s why Constantine brought us here—he remembered seeing the sword in the safe and must have realized what it was.
“How did you come by the sword?” Constantine asked, getting a nod of approval from me. I very much wanted to know the answer to that question, too. “It was stolen by Baltic’s guard, Thala.”
“I would be a very poor mage if I left something so valuable as the light blade in the possession of a half-dragon,” she replied with a little scornful curl of her lip. “Naturally, I did what was necessary to find her and took the sword into my possession.”