Dragon Storm
Page 62
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Even darkened as it was, it clearly still held some power that attracted him. He gave the others a quick look before addressing me. “What do you ask of me for the ring?”
I lifted my chin a little, not enough to express arrogance (which would not be tolerated by a demon lord) but just a smidgen to give him the idea that I wasn’t a pushover.
“An interesting question,” I said, stalling for time. “One that I haven’t thought much about. I will put my mind to it momentarily, but first you must set the others free.”
“Why?” he asked. “Do they mean much to you?”
“They’re my friends, yes,” I said, showing a bit of exasperation in my eyes. “Of course they mean something to me. And no, torturing them won’t get me to cooperate. Far from it, it will force me to use the ring to protect them and me.”
He was silent for a moment, which meant my shot in the dark had found its mark. He snapped his fingers, and two wrath demons marched past us and took up spots in front of Asmodeus. I risked a glance behind us, and was interested to see that all nine wrath demons were present, along with a handful of lesser demons.
“Very well,” Asmodeus said after a few minutes of speaking with the two demons. They took up a position on his right side. “I will exchange your friends’ lives for the ring.”
“Hold on now,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not what I said, and you know it. The conditions for me to open up negotiations for the ring are that you release everyone first. Let them go, and then we’ll talk.”
He gave me a look of pure loathing that probably took a good seven years off my life. I was braced and ready for him to consign me to the most miserable of all his cells when a commotion became audible from outside the room.
Ysolde cocked her head for a moment, then smiled. “The cavalry is here,” she said with a little smile.
Seventeen
The hellish nightmare began as one of the green dragons who’d just arrived in Paris stumbled through the door of Drake’s home and informed the group that Aisling and some other women had been abducted by demons. “Oh noes!” Gary said from where he was practicing wheelies. He zoomed through the open door before Constantine could stop him, yelling, “Come on, Connie! Let’s go rescue Bee!”
“I told you sending them out of the room like they were truculent children was a bad idea!” Constantine snarled at Drake before running off to catch Gary.
“Let’s go!” Gary demanded when Constantine picked up his truck. “What are you doing? You’re going the wrong way.”
“If they were taken by demons, running after them will do no good,” Constantine said grimly. “We must have a plan.”
“But the demons—”
“They will pay, as will their master.” Constantine’s voice was as hard as his heart at that moment. He didn’t even have to make a mental promise to exact revenge for whoever was responsible for the abduction of the mates—it was as natural to him as breathing.
And judging by the faces of the other wyverns, they felt the same. In short time, Drake organized his green dragons into monitoring the known entrances to Abaddon, picking the likeliest one to storm.
“We will need weapons,” Constantine told him, feeling calm despite the desperate need to know that Bee was safe.
“My armory is at our disposal,” Drake answered, and opened the door to a walk-in closet that would have filled the heart of a medievalist with ecstasy. In it were swords of all makes and sizes, various morningstars and maces, daggers, and an array of firearms that all the dragons ignored. Guns tended to attract attention from the mortal world and weren’t nearly as effective on an immortal as a blade was.
“Oooh,” Gary said, following them into the closet. “Can I have a gun?”
“No. You might shoot yourself in the eye.”
“I wouldn’t! Promise!”
Constantine hesitated, then pulled from the wall three small daggers that in his youth would have been used to eat with, and strapped them in a fan display to the front of Gary’s car. He claimed for himself a longsword, the style of which had been his favorite in centuries past.
“You will leave to me whichever demon lord is responsible for this attack,” Constantine declared a half hour later as they exited from the cars that dropped them off at the entrance to Abaddon they’d chosen. In addition to the wyverns and their respective guards, there were five green dragons, all equally armed. “I do not tolerate anyone stealing Bee from me.”
“On the contrary, it is my mate who was stolen, and she is in a delicate state of health. It is for me to avenge this act,” Drake said in a low, ugly voice.
“Are you implying that Ysolde is not the most important thing in the world to me?” Baltic asked, bristling. “I died rather than live without her! The honor is mine to destroy whoever dared touch my mate.”
“Aoife is the newest wyvern’s mate,” Kostya argued, swinging his morningstar in a manner that almost took off Baltic’s head. “Therefore, she is dearer to me than your mates are to you. It is I who should take the life of the demon lord, be it Asmodeus, Bael, or some other prince of Abaddon.”
The bickering that followed lasted long enough for Constantine to pick up Gary in his truck and charge into the building that housed the opening to Abaddon.
“Hey!” Kostya called out. “He’s going without us!”
The dragons gathered behind him, and by the time he kicked open the door, smote the demon standing guard, and strode into the part of Abaddon that coincided with that section of Paris, he had Kostya on one side, Baltic on the other, and Drake beyond him. The other dragons streamed behind them, presenting a solid wedge that simply overwhelmed any resistance. They marched forward, swords singing as they went into action, Kostya’s morningstar taking down even the most stubborn of demons.
“Whoohoo! Here we go!” Gary cheered, and immediately burst into “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
Constantine made a mental note to get Gary a music player of his own at the same time he separated an oncoming demon from his head and, on the backswing, parted another from his sword arm.
“Who has taken the wyverns’ mates?” he bellowed when they reached a central square. He leaped up on a small cart and waved his sword in the air, sending black demon blood flying. “Who dares touch that which belongs to dragonkin? You!”
I lifted my chin a little, not enough to express arrogance (which would not be tolerated by a demon lord) but just a smidgen to give him the idea that I wasn’t a pushover.
“An interesting question,” I said, stalling for time. “One that I haven’t thought much about. I will put my mind to it momentarily, but first you must set the others free.”
“Why?” he asked. “Do they mean much to you?”
“They’re my friends, yes,” I said, showing a bit of exasperation in my eyes. “Of course they mean something to me. And no, torturing them won’t get me to cooperate. Far from it, it will force me to use the ring to protect them and me.”
He was silent for a moment, which meant my shot in the dark had found its mark. He snapped his fingers, and two wrath demons marched past us and took up spots in front of Asmodeus. I risked a glance behind us, and was interested to see that all nine wrath demons were present, along with a handful of lesser demons.
“Very well,” Asmodeus said after a few minutes of speaking with the two demons. They took up a position on his right side. “I will exchange your friends’ lives for the ring.”
“Hold on now,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s not what I said, and you know it. The conditions for me to open up negotiations for the ring are that you release everyone first. Let them go, and then we’ll talk.”
He gave me a look of pure loathing that probably took a good seven years off my life. I was braced and ready for him to consign me to the most miserable of all his cells when a commotion became audible from outside the room.
Ysolde cocked her head for a moment, then smiled. “The cavalry is here,” she said with a little smile.
Seventeen
The hellish nightmare began as one of the green dragons who’d just arrived in Paris stumbled through the door of Drake’s home and informed the group that Aisling and some other women had been abducted by demons. “Oh noes!” Gary said from where he was practicing wheelies. He zoomed through the open door before Constantine could stop him, yelling, “Come on, Connie! Let’s go rescue Bee!”
“I told you sending them out of the room like they were truculent children was a bad idea!” Constantine snarled at Drake before running off to catch Gary.
“Let’s go!” Gary demanded when Constantine picked up his truck. “What are you doing? You’re going the wrong way.”
“If they were taken by demons, running after them will do no good,” Constantine said grimly. “We must have a plan.”
“But the demons—”
“They will pay, as will their master.” Constantine’s voice was as hard as his heart at that moment. He didn’t even have to make a mental promise to exact revenge for whoever was responsible for the abduction of the mates—it was as natural to him as breathing.
And judging by the faces of the other wyverns, they felt the same. In short time, Drake organized his green dragons into monitoring the known entrances to Abaddon, picking the likeliest one to storm.
“We will need weapons,” Constantine told him, feeling calm despite the desperate need to know that Bee was safe.
“My armory is at our disposal,” Drake answered, and opened the door to a walk-in closet that would have filled the heart of a medievalist with ecstasy. In it were swords of all makes and sizes, various morningstars and maces, daggers, and an array of firearms that all the dragons ignored. Guns tended to attract attention from the mortal world and weren’t nearly as effective on an immortal as a blade was.
“Oooh,” Gary said, following them into the closet. “Can I have a gun?”
“No. You might shoot yourself in the eye.”
“I wouldn’t! Promise!”
Constantine hesitated, then pulled from the wall three small daggers that in his youth would have been used to eat with, and strapped them in a fan display to the front of Gary’s car. He claimed for himself a longsword, the style of which had been his favorite in centuries past.
“You will leave to me whichever demon lord is responsible for this attack,” Constantine declared a half hour later as they exited from the cars that dropped them off at the entrance to Abaddon they’d chosen. In addition to the wyverns and their respective guards, there were five green dragons, all equally armed. “I do not tolerate anyone stealing Bee from me.”
“On the contrary, it is my mate who was stolen, and she is in a delicate state of health. It is for me to avenge this act,” Drake said in a low, ugly voice.
“Are you implying that Ysolde is not the most important thing in the world to me?” Baltic asked, bristling. “I died rather than live without her! The honor is mine to destroy whoever dared touch my mate.”
“Aoife is the newest wyvern’s mate,” Kostya argued, swinging his morningstar in a manner that almost took off Baltic’s head. “Therefore, she is dearer to me than your mates are to you. It is I who should take the life of the demon lord, be it Asmodeus, Bael, or some other prince of Abaddon.”
The bickering that followed lasted long enough for Constantine to pick up Gary in his truck and charge into the building that housed the opening to Abaddon.
“Hey!” Kostya called out. “He’s going without us!”
The dragons gathered behind him, and by the time he kicked open the door, smote the demon standing guard, and strode into the part of Abaddon that coincided with that section of Paris, he had Kostya on one side, Baltic on the other, and Drake beyond him. The other dragons streamed behind them, presenting a solid wedge that simply overwhelmed any resistance. They marched forward, swords singing as they went into action, Kostya’s morningstar taking down even the most stubborn of demons.
“Whoohoo! Here we go!” Gary cheered, and immediately burst into “Pour Some Sugar on Me.”
Constantine made a mental note to get Gary a music player of his own at the same time he separated an oncoming demon from his head and, on the backswing, parted another from his sword arm.
“Who has taken the wyverns’ mates?” he bellowed when they reached a central square. He leaped up on a small cart and waved his sword in the air, sending black demon blood flying. “Who dares touch that which belongs to dragonkin? You!”
