Holy Smokes
Page 29

“It’s got to be below zero in here. Can we turn on the heat, at least?”
“No. We don’t want anyone to hear the car. Was that an owl? A real owl, or a some sort of a signal, do you think?” I asked, peering blindly out into the night. Surrounded as we were by dense forest, there was nothing to see but a whole lot of dark.
Rene’s shadow cocked its head. “I did not hear. Aisling, I am beginning to believe that perhaps there are not the guards present that you imagined.”
“I can’t feel my toes. I can’t feel my legs. I can’t feel my package,” Jim said in a mournful tone. “How’m I ever going to make little demons if my package ices up and drops off, huh? Huh?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! Here, you can have my blanket, although I’d like to point out that you do, in fact, have a thick furry coat, and your genitals are not going to freeze and fall off your body.” I wrapped the car blanket that I’d been huddled under around Jim, who recoiled in horror.
“I’m not going to take a blanket away from a pregnant woman! That’s like a cardinal sin or something! I’ll get double demerits!”
“Oh, stop comp—ack!” I jumped at least a foot off the backseat of the car, where Jim and I had been sitting, at the sudden movement outside the window. “Uncle Damian! You just about gave me a heart attack!”
“You told me to be stealthy,” he said gruffly as he slid into the front passenger seat. “You can turn the engine on, Rene. There’s no one out here.”
“Oh, good, heat at last. I hope one of my legs doesn’t snap off before it’s thawed out,” Jim said, crowding forward to try to get some of the heat as Rene started the car.
“There’s no one? Are you sure?” I asked Uncle Damian.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, yeah, I know, you were in the black berets or something during the war,” I said, trying to mollify him.
“The term is black ops. Not that I’m admitting to having been involved in anything like that,” he said.
“Plausible deniability, we know. But it’s been a few years since you were doing anything like that, and if Fiat has dragons guarding his uncle, they could be very tricky.”
“Aisling, I said there was no one out there,” he answered, his voice as hard as flint.
“Well, hell.”
“Abaddon.”
I sucked on my lower lip for a moment, thinking hard and fast. “Maybe this isn’t the right place.”
“It’s the right place,” Uncle Damian answered.
“You’re sure that Bastian Blu lives here?”
“That’s what the man said.”
I thought a bit more. “He could be lying. I wouldn’t put it past Fiat to have set up a false house so people would think his uncle was here, but really, he was somewhere else.”
Uncle Damian sighed, his breath making a little puff of smoke in the cold mountain air. The Italian Alps in winter were lovely, but there was a reason that the tiny town of Santa Cristina was best known as a ski resort. Outside the car, the snow was piled up at least six feet deep. “He didn’t lie. I didn’t give him the opportunity to do so. I may not have been in the service for twenty-six years, but I have not forgotten how to interrogate an individual or search for enemy patrols. Now let’s get going. I can think of other places I’d rather be than sitting here.”
Rene turned the wheel and drove us up a long, snowy road, the headlights picking up occasional glimpses of startled deer and nocturnal animals as they hurried out of our path.
“I can’t believe Fiat doesn’t have anyone guarding his uncle,” I mused, pinching my lip.
“Maybe no one cares about him.” Jim shrugged. “Fiat’s been in control of the sept for a long time. Maybe he doesn’t think his uncle is a threat anymore.”
I smiled to myself. “He’s going to have a big surprise then, isn’t he?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’ll be you that gets the surprise,” Jim said.
“Bah. Holy cow, is that the villa?” I gawked as the car rounded a wooded curve, the sight of a large square stone villa being highlighted by the car’s lights. “That’s a heck of a nice place to be exiled to.”
As we drove up to the front, I could see that the main part of the villa was shaped like a square block, but an addition on one side gave it a bit more depth. On the far side, standing slightly away from the main building, a four-story stone square tower pulled the eye upward, following the line of the hill behind it. Gothic domed windows and doors gave the place a faintly medieval sense, a feeling that was enhanced by the aged figure who opened one of the double front doors as we stopped before them.
“Hello. Do you speak English?” I asked the elderly man who stood bent and crooked, carrying a large candelabra in one hand.
“Yes,” the old man said, gesturing toward the open door with the candles. The flames danced and sputtered in the freezing night air, not doing a whole lot to light up the area around us. The old man squinted at me for a minute. “You are a mate. You are here to see Signor Blu?”
“Yes, we are. My name is Aisling Grey. Er…is Mr. Blu up to having visitors?”
The old man blinked rheumy eyes at me. I was startled to see that his pupils were elongated, although it made sense that dragons were taking care of Fiat’s uncle. Still, it was rare you saw an elderly one.
“Is he…I mean, he’s not strapped into anything, right?”
“Strapped into anything?” He looked at me like I was the one who’d been shut away for being insane.
I glanced at the others. They just stood silent, content to let me handle things. Blast them. “We don’t want to disturb Mr. Blu if he is…unwell.”
“The signor has remarkable health.” The old guy gestured toward the door. “We do not have many visitors. Enter.”
“Thank you. It’s a bit cold out tonight,” I said, stepping into the villa, trying to keep from gawking at the gorgeous surroundings as the old man hurried us through an open-vaulted entryway. Given that he walked about as fast as an elderly snail, there was plenty of time for appreciating the décor.
I felt a little tingle as I went through the doorway, usually a sign of a protection ward. Jim had no problem passing through it, though, so it couldn’t have been a very strong one.