Holy Smokes
Page 52
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Jim’s laughter was more a bark than a laugh. “Death threats are old hat to Ash.”
“They really are, you know,” I told my uncle, giving his arm a little squeeze. “People have been trying to kill me from day one, and I’ve survived, so really, a few wild threats from Fiat aren’t going to scare—”
The sound of gunfire exploded in the close confines of the pub. Uncle Damian knocked me against a wall, shielding me the way I’d shielded Nora.
“I’m all right, save her,” I yelled into his chest, pushing him back in order to make sure my friends weren’t being slaughtered.
Nora was crouched down behind the bar, peering over it with Rene.
I squeezed out to see what was happening. Two of Bastian’s company were on the floor, one male, rolling in obvious pain as blood stained the floor around him, the other a woman who was sobbing as she tried to rip off the man’s shirt to see how badly he’d been injured.
Fiat slammed Bastian up against the wall, holding him off the floor in an impressive display of one-handed strength. Another dragon stooped and picked up the gun from where Bastian had evidently knocked it from Fiat’s grasp. He looked unsure of what to do with it, holding it as if it were a toad about to spit warts.
Uncle Damian jetted past me, snatching the gun from the dragon before the latter knew what was happening.
“Uncle, don’t—” I started to say as Uncle Damian pointed the gun at Fiat.
“I believe I’ve seen enough,” he said, but before I could stop him, several of the surrounding dragons jumped him. He went down in a flurry of fists.
“Stop this right now!” I bellowed, leaping forward, drawing wards as fast as I could. Nora saw what I was doing and jumped into the fray, her hands flying as she bound the dragons to the floor, leaving them unable to move.
Rene jumped on top of the dragons who had piled onto my uncle, flinging them off until he was down to the Uncle Damian–flavored center.
“I have had enough!” I continued, turning a glare that warned of serious consequences on the couple of remaining unbound dragons. They backed off, with the exception of the woman named Marta. She snarled something and leaped at me with hands curved into claws. Jim broadsided her and knocked her backwards into a table. She went down with a clatter of chairs. I quickly bound her to the floor, then slapped an additional silencing ward on her to stop her stream of abuse.
I turned back to where Fiat was spitting Italian at his uncle, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of Bastian’s neck.
“You wanted me as a mate, well, fine, I’m your friggin’ mate, and I’m telling you to stop right now!” I yelled at Fiat, marching over to him.
“Aisling, stay away!” my uncle shouted.
Nora hastily drew a protection ward on me, hitting all four sides, the wards shimmering golden in the air for a moment.
I didn’t want to pull Fiat’s fire at all, didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to use it, didn’t want to gain strength from it, since it was tantamount to betrayal of Drake’s fire, but I didn’t have time for the finer points of my feelings. I pulled hard on it and slammed the fire back into Fiat, not causing him any harm, but distracting him enough to release Bastian.
“Maiala,” he snarled at me, spinning around to face me.
“Yeah, whatever. Bastian, do it.”
Bastian got to his feet with the help of his remaining friend, his face mottled red, his eyes blazing a fury to match Fiat’s. It was almost like seeing some sort of a twin act when they were face-to-face—they really were remarkably similar in appearance, but there, thank god, the similarities ended.
“By the laws governing the illustrious sept of the blue dragons, I, Bastiano de Girardin Blu, wyvern by right of tanistry, do hereby issue a formal challenge of transcendence to Sfiatatoio del Fuoco Blu.”
Fiat laughed, a scary sort of near-hysterical laugh, the kind that screams straitjacket and lifetime supply of happy drugs. “You have tried to take the sept from me three times, old man, and failed. What makes you think you can do it this time?”
Bastian had challenged Fiat before?
“Oh, man, that doesn’t sound good,” Jim muttered.
“Yeah. He didn’t tell me he’d challenged Fiat before and lost.” Doubt entered my mind for the first time since meeting Bastian. I’d been so certain that all he needed was a helping hand to get out of his imprisonment, I’d never considered that perhaps Fiat was just too strong to be overthrown. If the overthrow failed…I shuddered at that unthinkable conclusion. “I do not want to think about what evil sort of punishment Fiat will have his sept work up for me if he beats Bastian.”
“It ain’t gonna be pretty, that’s for sure,” Jim said in a repulsively cheerful voice.
“I will succeed because I must,” Bastian said with much dignity in reply to Fiat’s comment, tugging down his shirt and dusting himself off. “It is true that you have managed to manipulate the circumstances of my challenges in the past, but this time, I am prepared for you.”
To my intense relief, Fiat’s anger had morphed into a wicked sort of amusement, still dangerous, but not explosive…at least for the moment. “You put too much faith in the power of my mate. She cannot help you. Do you not know? She is proscribed, banned by her own people, and far too stupid to understand the power she could wield.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” I started to say, but Jim stomped on my foot in warning. I shut up.
“This is not about your mate, although I understand the lady disputes your right to call her that,” Bastian said evenly. “This is between you and me. You will leave the others out of it.”
Fiat glanced at the three dragons who had accompanied Bastian. The one he’d shot—whether by mistake or intentionally, I wasn’t sure—had evidently recovered from the bulk of the trauma and was sitting in a chair while the woman wiped blood off his stomach. The third man stood warily next to Bastian. “I need no others to aid me. But I have a long memory, a very long memory indeed, and I remember equally those who serve me well, and those who do not.”
The man next to Bastian edged away a smidgen, licking his lips nervously.
“As do I,” Bastian said.
“Name the form the challenge will take.” Fiat crossed his arms and tipped his head to the side, as though he was finding the whole thing highly entertaining.
“They really are, you know,” I told my uncle, giving his arm a little squeeze. “People have been trying to kill me from day one, and I’ve survived, so really, a few wild threats from Fiat aren’t going to scare—”
The sound of gunfire exploded in the close confines of the pub. Uncle Damian knocked me against a wall, shielding me the way I’d shielded Nora.
“I’m all right, save her,” I yelled into his chest, pushing him back in order to make sure my friends weren’t being slaughtered.
Nora was crouched down behind the bar, peering over it with Rene.
I squeezed out to see what was happening. Two of Bastian’s company were on the floor, one male, rolling in obvious pain as blood stained the floor around him, the other a woman who was sobbing as she tried to rip off the man’s shirt to see how badly he’d been injured.
Fiat slammed Bastian up against the wall, holding him off the floor in an impressive display of one-handed strength. Another dragon stooped and picked up the gun from where Bastian had evidently knocked it from Fiat’s grasp. He looked unsure of what to do with it, holding it as if it were a toad about to spit warts.
Uncle Damian jetted past me, snatching the gun from the dragon before the latter knew what was happening.
“Uncle, don’t—” I started to say as Uncle Damian pointed the gun at Fiat.
“I believe I’ve seen enough,” he said, but before I could stop him, several of the surrounding dragons jumped him. He went down in a flurry of fists.
“Stop this right now!” I bellowed, leaping forward, drawing wards as fast as I could. Nora saw what I was doing and jumped into the fray, her hands flying as she bound the dragons to the floor, leaving them unable to move.
Rene jumped on top of the dragons who had piled onto my uncle, flinging them off until he was down to the Uncle Damian–flavored center.
“I have had enough!” I continued, turning a glare that warned of serious consequences on the couple of remaining unbound dragons. They backed off, with the exception of the woman named Marta. She snarled something and leaped at me with hands curved into claws. Jim broadsided her and knocked her backwards into a table. She went down with a clatter of chairs. I quickly bound her to the floor, then slapped an additional silencing ward on her to stop her stream of abuse.
I turned back to where Fiat was spitting Italian at his uncle, his fingers digging deep into the flesh of Bastian’s neck.
“You wanted me as a mate, well, fine, I’m your friggin’ mate, and I’m telling you to stop right now!” I yelled at Fiat, marching over to him.
“Aisling, stay away!” my uncle shouted.
Nora hastily drew a protection ward on me, hitting all four sides, the wards shimmering golden in the air for a moment.
I didn’t want to pull Fiat’s fire at all, didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to use it, didn’t want to gain strength from it, since it was tantamount to betrayal of Drake’s fire, but I didn’t have time for the finer points of my feelings. I pulled hard on it and slammed the fire back into Fiat, not causing him any harm, but distracting him enough to release Bastian.
“Maiala,” he snarled at me, spinning around to face me.
“Yeah, whatever. Bastian, do it.”
Bastian got to his feet with the help of his remaining friend, his face mottled red, his eyes blazing a fury to match Fiat’s. It was almost like seeing some sort of a twin act when they were face-to-face—they really were remarkably similar in appearance, but there, thank god, the similarities ended.
“By the laws governing the illustrious sept of the blue dragons, I, Bastiano de Girardin Blu, wyvern by right of tanistry, do hereby issue a formal challenge of transcendence to Sfiatatoio del Fuoco Blu.”
Fiat laughed, a scary sort of near-hysterical laugh, the kind that screams straitjacket and lifetime supply of happy drugs. “You have tried to take the sept from me three times, old man, and failed. What makes you think you can do it this time?”
Bastian had challenged Fiat before?
“Oh, man, that doesn’t sound good,” Jim muttered.
“Yeah. He didn’t tell me he’d challenged Fiat before and lost.” Doubt entered my mind for the first time since meeting Bastian. I’d been so certain that all he needed was a helping hand to get out of his imprisonment, I’d never considered that perhaps Fiat was just too strong to be overthrown. If the overthrow failed…I shuddered at that unthinkable conclusion. “I do not want to think about what evil sort of punishment Fiat will have his sept work up for me if he beats Bastian.”
“It ain’t gonna be pretty, that’s for sure,” Jim said in a repulsively cheerful voice.
“I will succeed because I must,” Bastian said with much dignity in reply to Fiat’s comment, tugging down his shirt and dusting himself off. “It is true that you have managed to manipulate the circumstances of my challenges in the past, but this time, I am prepared for you.”
To my intense relief, Fiat’s anger had morphed into a wicked sort of amusement, still dangerous, but not explosive…at least for the moment. “You put too much faith in the power of my mate. She cannot help you. Do you not know? She is proscribed, banned by her own people, and far too stupid to understand the power she could wield.”
“Don’t fool yourself,” I started to say, but Jim stomped on my foot in warning. I shut up.
“This is not about your mate, although I understand the lady disputes your right to call her that,” Bastian said evenly. “This is between you and me. You will leave the others out of it.”
Fiat glanced at the three dragons who had accompanied Bastian. The one he’d shot—whether by mistake or intentionally, I wasn’t sure—had evidently recovered from the bulk of the trauma and was sitting in a chair while the woman wiped blood off his stomach. The third man stood warily next to Bastian. “I need no others to aid me. But I have a long memory, a very long memory indeed, and I remember equally those who serve me well, and those who do not.”
The man next to Bastian edged away a smidgen, licking his lips nervously.
“As do I,” Bastian said.
“Name the form the challenge will take.” Fiat crossed his arms and tipped his head to the side, as though he was finding the whole thing highly entertaining.
