Fire Me Up
Page 7
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He stopped fighting the smile as Jim put a paw over its eyes and groaned. "To me, you say, 'I would like to see you naked.'"
"No!" I gasped, mentally damning the man in the chat room. "That poop! And I went to the trouble of learning all the stuff he gave me. Dammit!"
Rene shook his head as he laughed, giving my hand a sympathetic squeeze. "You will be sure to call me? I do not want to think of you walking around Budapest telling people you like to see them naked. You call if you need a driver. Or if you need help with others. You remember I am much good behind your back."
I gave him a hug. "Yes, thank you, you are wonderful at watching my back, and I very much appreciate all your help. It's getting too late today to find the hermit, but what say we make an appointment for tomorrow?"
We agreed upon a time, and with a final grin, Rene toddled off, his hands in his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune, looking utterly normal in a world that I was fast realizing was anything but.
"Come on, you hairy hound from"—Jim raised an eyebrow at me—"Abaddon. Let's go get ourselves spiffed up, and we'll see what's going on with all the Diviners and Theurgists and Guardians."
"You do that really well," Jim said as I dragged the suitcase over to an elevator, checking the plastic key card for the room number.
"Do what? Twelve-fifteen. Drat. I hate rooms above the third floor."
"Ignore the fact that the second you saw Drake, you stood en points faster than an Irish setter spotting a pheasant."
I glared at it. "I am not a dog, and I resent you comparing me to one. You're the one with the dog fetish, not me. I'll thank you to remember that I'm perfectly happy being a human."
"No, you're not a dog, but you are changing the subject."
"So observant, my little demon." I patted Jim on the head as the elevator doors closed.
"Do you really think you can just ignore him? It didn't work when you were on the other side of the world, Aisling. Now you two are in the same city—the same hotel. And the second you see him you're all but drooling on the man."
"Demon, I order thee to keep thy trap zipped until I tell thee otherwise."
Jim glared at me, unable to violate a direct order. I hated having to resort to such harsh measures, but I was having a hard enough time getting my brain to stop running around like a deranged Chihuahua to tolerate Jim poking at something I just couldn't deal with at the moment.
"I am a professional," I told the empty hallway as I dragged my suitcase down the long, opulent passage, Jim walking silently behind me. "I have seen the worst and triumphed over it. I can do this."
I didn't release Jim from its bondage of silence until I had taken a fast shower, changed into a gauze peasant skirt and matching blouse that I thought looked exotically pretty, wrapped a colorful scarf around my hair in an attempt to look totally and completely different from the crazed woman who had fallen in the lobby, and gathered my new organizer.
"You're to be on your best behavior," I warned Jim on the ride down to the conference level of the hotel. "No peeing on anything unless I say you can. No gender checks by sniffing anyone's pertinent body parts. No wisecracks about me in relation to men named Drake. You got all that?"
Jim's lips curled, but its great black furry head gave a curt nod of agreement.
"Good. You may speak now."
"I hate it when you do that," it burst out, eyes bulging a little with the strain of having kept its comments to itself. "Not even Amayon used to make us be silent!"
"Don't tell tales about your former demon master. Ah, I think this is where we're supposed to be." We exited the elevator to walk through a busy reception area. Over a wall of doors a huge banner hung, reading (in French, English, and what I assumed was Hungarian) 238TH INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE OF GODTAM. Although the conference wasn't due to start for another hour—with the official kickoff banquet—there were a number of people in business attire milling around, some sitting on the scattered benches and chairs, others in small clutches talking quietly with one another. A latte stand in the corner of the room did brisk business. "Wow. Our first conference. Maybe I should have worn my brown suit? Do I look dressy enough to you? This is kind of exciting, huh?"
"Yes, no, yes, and it would be downright thrilling if you were to feed me," Jim answered, watching an attractive couple wander past bearing paper latte cups and elaborate pastries bristling with almonds.
"The dinner will start in an hour or so. You will kindly remember that I had to pay for you to attend the meal and not embarrass me by demanding horsemeat or something ghastly like that."
"You sure know how to take the fun out of life," Jim snorted as we joined a short line before a skirted table manned by several individuals all wearing badges with a nine-pointed symbol.
Although I knew from experience that most of the citizens of the Otherworld looked perfectly normal—the dragons' slightly elongated pupils being the only physical sign that they weren't human—I still half expected to see something out of the ordinary, some indication that we had stepped out of the real world and into something cloaked in mystery and magic.
"Name?"
I pulled my mind from its wanderings to attend to the registration woman. "Aisling Grey."
"Ashling?"
"That's right." I spelled my name for her. "It's Irish."
"Denomination?"
"Huh? Well, my mother is Catholic, but my father was Presbyterian. I'm kind of neither."
The woman gave me an annoyed look. "Are you a Diviner, Theurgist, Guardian, Oracle, or Mage?"
"Oh, that sort of denomination. Guardian. Kind of. Really more like Guardian lite."
"Less filling, half the fat," Jim quipped.
The woman ignored both of us as she pulled a box of envelopes toward her.
"And there should also be a registration for my... um ... demon. Its name is Effrijim."
Jim nosed the box. "I hope it just says 'Jim' on the name tag. I don't want anyone to think I'm a sissy."
"A demon?" She gave Jim a cold look before flicking through the thick envelopes, finally extracting two. She handed me clip-on name badges for both of us, as well as a thick packet of material. I clipped my badge to a ruffle on my peasant blouse, then attached Jim's to its collar "Demons are expected to be kept under control at all times and are not to be left unattended. If you do leave your demon without supervision, it will be trapped in limbo and returned to its demon lord at your expense. The main convention hall and ballroom have been warded and spelled so that you cannot conduct dark magic within their confines. The meeting rooms are unprotected, however. Do you understand and accept these terms?"
"No!" I gasped, mentally damning the man in the chat room. "That poop! And I went to the trouble of learning all the stuff he gave me. Dammit!"
Rene shook his head as he laughed, giving my hand a sympathetic squeeze. "You will be sure to call me? I do not want to think of you walking around Budapest telling people you like to see them naked. You call if you need a driver. Or if you need help with others. You remember I am much good behind your back."
I gave him a hug. "Yes, thank you, you are wonderful at watching my back, and I very much appreciate all your help. It's getting too late today to find the hermit, but what say we make an appointment for tomorrow?"
We agreed upon a time, and with a final grin, Rene toddled off, his hands in his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune, looking utterly normal in a world that I was fast realizing was anything but.
"Come on, you hairy hound from"—Jim raised an eyebrow at me—"Abaddon. Let's go get ourselves spiffed up, and we'll see what's going on with all the Diviners and Theurgists and Guardians."
"You do that really well," Jim said as I dragged the suitcase over to an elevator, checking the plastic key card for the room number.
"Do what? Twelve-fifteen. Drat. I hate rooms above the third floor."
"Ignore the fact that the second you saw Drake, you stood en points faster than an Irish setter spotting a pheasant."
I glared at it. "I am not a dog, and I resent you comparing me to one. You're the one with the dog fetish, not me. I'll thank you to remember that I'm perfectly happy being a human."
"No, you're not a dog, but you are changing the subject."
"So observant, my little demon." I patted Jim on the head as the elevator doors closed.
"Do you really think you can just ignore him? It didn't work when you were on the other side of the world, Aisling. Now you two are in the same city—the same hotel. And the second you see him you're all but drooling on the man."
"Demon, I order thee to keep thy trap zipped until I tell thee otherwise."
Jim glared at me, unable to violate a direct order. I hated having to resort to such harsh measures, but I was having a hard enough time getting my brain to stop running around like a deranged Chihuahua to tolerate Jim poking at something I just couldn't deal with at the moment.
"I am a professional," I told the empty hallway as I dragged my suitcase down the long, opulent passage, Jim walking silently behind me. "I have seen the worst and triumphed over it. I can do this."
I didn't release Jim from its bondage of silence until I had taken a fast shower, changed into a gauze peasant skirt and matching blouse that I thought looked exotically pretty, wrapped a colorful scarf around my hair in an attempt to look totally and completely different from the crazed woman who had fallen in the lobby, and gathered my new organizer.
"You're to be on your best behavior," I warned Jim on the ride down to the conference level of the hotel. "No peeing on anything unless I say you can. No gender checks by sniffing anyone's pertinent body parts. No wisecracks about me in relation to men named Drake. You got all that?"
Jim's lips curled, but its great black furry head gave a curt nod of agreement.
"Good. You may speak now."
"I hate it when you do that," it burst out, eyes bulging a little with the strain of having kept its comments to itself. "Not even Amayon used to make us be silent!"
"Don't tell tales about your former demon master. Ah, I think this is where we're supposed to be." We exited the elevator to walk through a busy reception area. Over a wall of doors a huge banner hung, reading (in French, English, and what I assumed was Hungarian) 238TH INTERNATIONAL CONFERENCE OF GODTAM. Although the conference wasn't due to start for another hour—with the official kickoff banquet—there were a number of people in business attire milling around, some sitting on the scattered benches and chairs, others in small clutches talking quietly with one another. A latte stand in the corner of the room did brisk business. "Wow. Our first conference. Maybe I should have worn my brown suit? Do I look dressy enough to you? This is kind of exciting, huh?"
"Yes, no, yes, and it would be downright thrilling if you were to feed me," Jim answered, watching an attractive couple wander past bearing paper latte cups and elaborate pastries bristling with almonds.
"The dinner will start in an hour or so. You will kindly remember that I had to pay for you to attend the meal and not embarrass me by demanding horsemeat or something ghastly like that."
"You sure know how to take the fun out of life," Jim snorted as we joined a short line before a skirted table manned by several individuals all wearing badges with a nine-pointed symbol.
Although I knew from experience that most of the citizens of the Otherworld looked perfectly normal—the dragons' slightly elongated pupils being the only physical sign that they weren't human—I still half expected to see something out of the ordinary, some indication that we had stepped out of the real world and into something cloaked in mystery and magic.
"Name?"
I pulled my mind from its wanderings to attend to the registration woman. "Aisling Grey."
"Ashling?"
"That's right." I spelled my name for her. "It's Irish."
"Denomination?"
"Huh? Well, my mother is Catholic, but my father was Presbyterian. I'm kind of neither."
The woman gave me an annoyed look. "Are you a Diviner, Theurgist, Guardian, Oracle, or Mage?"
"Oh, that sort of denomination. Guardian. Kind of. Really more like Guardian lite."
"Less filling, half the fat," Jim quipped.
The woman ignored both of us as she pulled a box of envelopes toward her.
"And there should also be a registration for my... um ... demon. Its name is Effrijim."
Jim nosed the box. "I hope it just says 'Jim' on the name tag. I don't want anyone to think I'm a sissy."
"A demon?" She gave Jim a cold look before flicking through the thick envelopes, finally extracting two. She handed me clip-on name badges for both of us, as well as a thick packet of material. I clipped my badge to a ruffle on my peasant blouse, then attached Jim's to its collar "Demons are expected to be kept under control at all times and are not to be left unattended. If you do leave your demon without supervision, it will be trapped in limbo and returned to its demon lord at your expense. The main convention hall and ballroom have been warded and spelled so that you cannot conduct dark magic within their confines. The meeting rooms are unprotected, however. Do you understand and accept these terms?"
