Holy Smokes
Page 30

“Stand as far away from anything antique as is possible, don’t shed, and try not to drool,” I ordered it in a low tone of voice as we were escorted into a small room.
“You’re so anal these days. It’s just a bit of old furniture. Hey, you think that’s a Fabergé egg over there?”
“Move so much as one toenail, and I’ll have your ears!” I whispered, praying that I could get through the evening without disaster striking.
“The man, he did not seem to act as if his master was insane,” Rene mused as he examined the paintings hanging on the wall. “When you told us of your plan last night, I was not so sure it would work. People are not locked away without reason, hein? But now…pfft. It is possible.”
“It pretty much hinges on whether Fiat was being kind to an ailing relative, or a rat fink who wouldn’t hesitate to strong-arm family out of his path to power. Knowing him as I do, I’m willing to bet you that his uncle is as sane as I am.”
Three pairs of eyes considered me with what I thought was excessive speculation. Before I could point that out, the door opened and Fiat stepped into the room.
“Oh, shit,” I swore under my breath, desperately trying to think of some explanation for being there.
Rene was standing close enough to hear me. “Merde,” he corrected.
“Um…hi, Fiat,” I said with all the wit and vim of a stale pancake. “I expect you’d like to know why we’re here, huh?”
Fiat’s eyes widened. “An explanation is always pleasant, although I believe greetings are generally conducted first. Orazio said your name is Aisling Grey? I am Bastiano de Girardin Blu.”
My jaw dropped. I couldn’t help myself, it dropped a whole inch or so while I stared at the Fiat double and tried to process the information. “You’re Fiat’s uncle?”
“Yes.” He nodded, glancing at the others. His voice had a heavier Italian accent than Fiat’s, but other than that, it was difficult to tell the two men weren’t one and the same. “You are a Guardian. You have a demon with you. You are here to banish me to the Akasha?”
“Am I seeing things, or does he look just like Fiat?” I whispered to Jim.
“There are a few differences. He isn’t a snake in the grass, for one,” it answered.
Bastiano straightened his shoulders. It was really uncanny how much he looked like Fiat, from the curly blond hair, to the brilliant blue eyes, right down to the same square chin. “I knew this day would come. If you will allow me a few minutes to see to my people, I would be grateful.”
“No, I’m sorry—” I said, about to explain the misunderstanding.
“They have been with me since Fiat imprisoned me. They are harmless, but deserve a reward for serving me so well,” Bastiano interrupted. “If you wish me to beg you for this concession, I will do so.”
“Oh, jeez, no! Mr. Blu, you’ve got this totally wrong. We’re not bad guys,” I said, waving my hand toward the three others. “I’m a Guardian, yes, and Jim is a demon, but we’re not here to banish you to limbo. We’re here to rescue you.”
“Rescue me?” Now it was his turn to look stunned. “Do you mean it? No, you cannot. This is a cruel game you play.”
“I assure you, we’re not playing games. Maybe I’d better start at the beginning…”
“You’re gonna want to sit down,” Jim told the dragon. “Once she gets going, it’s hard to stop her.”
“Silence, demonic one,” I said, smiling at Bastiano. If I thought he looked surprised at the news that we weren’t there to banish him, he was downright flabbergasted by the time I was done relating the pertinent events of the last few months.
“You were the mate of the green wyvern—I am glad to know that Drake still has charge of the sept—but now you are Fiat’s mate?” he asked.
“In name only. Fiat tricked us into that situation. He’s…well, you know what he is.”
Bastiano nodded. “Cruel,” he said.
“Bastard,” Jim said with a sniff.
“Evil to the core,” said Rene.
“Looks like a porn star,” added Uncle Damian. “Don’t trust men who look like they make their livings with their dicks.”
A slight flush rose on Bastiano’s cheeks.
“Present company excluded, naturally,” I told him, shooting my uncle a glance. “This is going to sound horribly rude, I just know it, but would you mind me asking how old you are? Because you really do look just like Fiat, and I wondered if you were born around the same time as him?”
He blinked. “I was born in 1442. Fiat was born to my sister in…I believe it was 1585? Sometime around then, so yes, I was still young when he was born. As for the similarity of our appearance…” His hands made an eloquent gesture of dismissal. “That is a family trait, and not important. What is important is the regrettable fact that by your very act of coming here, you have doomed yourself to imprisonment as well.”
“Huh?” I asked, trying hard to keep my jaw from dropping a second time.
“Do you think I would stay here if I could leave?” His eyes darkened until they were almost black. “This house is nothing more than a prison, and for us all, there is no way out.”
11
“No one…argh…locks me…oooph!…into a house without my…dammit! That hurt!…permission! Look out!”
The confinement wards that were drawn each morning on all exits of the house by one of Fiat’s employees were pretty darned good, but not good enough. True, it took me five minutes of struggling to shove Bastian (who told us he preferred the shortened form of his name) through the one on the front door, but in the end, brute force and my own determination won the day.
“That was sure a heck of a lot easier coming in than going out,” I said, blowing a strand of hair back from my damp forehead.
Bastian looked a bit worse for wear, but at last he stood on the front steps of the house in which he’d been held a prisoner for eighty-some years, jubilation filling his face as he swung his arms wide and spun in a circle. “I do not believe it! You did it! You have done the impossible!”
“All in a day’s work,” I said modestly, watching as he executed a little dance of joy. “I’ve had pretty good luck getting through wards before, so I was almost certain I could get you out of this one, too.”