Light My Fire
Page 12
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“That is something for you to talk to him about,” she said, her lips making the thin line that I knew meant she wasn’t going to be forthcoming with any further information.
“But you know the answer?”
She nodded.
“Criminy. Why does no one ever want to tell me anything?” I groused quietly to myself as I took another sip of the dragon’s-blood beverage. Heat roared through me, causing a few stray flickers to erupt from my fingertips. Absently, I slapped them out. “It’s like some sort of guessing game and everyone knows the rules but me. I hate that sort of thing. It makes me want to take my ball and go home.”
“You still do not have a true understanding of what it is you’ve agreed to do,” Amelie said, shaking her head. “Aisling, this is not a game you play. You hold many people’s lives in the flat of your hand, and I fear that one day, you will destroy them without knowing it.”
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “I’m sorry, Amelie—I didn’t mean to appear flip. You may not believe it, but I’m very cognizant of my responsibilities to the dragons. Hence my rather strained restraint with Fiat earlier. And I know Jim would say I’m whining, but sometimes I feel like everything is stacked up against me, and there’s no way I’m ever going to find my way out.”
“You will,” she said, signaling for the check. She plopped a couple of coins on the table. “You must simply embrace all of the possibilities.”
“Right. Like the possibility that I’m not going to go insane, and someday, I will understand everything.” I snatched up my purse and followed Amelie through the crowded floor of the club to the door. Once again, a magical aisle opened up for us, and I was aware again of being the focus of many people’s attention. It was a very creepy feeling.
“That is one possibility, yes. How much time do you have?” she asked as we made our way out of the club into the soft evening air, bright lights, and nonstop low drone of chatter that make up Paris on a summer night.
“Eeek. About twenty minutes. Is it far to the train station?”
“Non. We will walk there.”
Security issues being what they are, we had to part at the outer lobby of the train station. Amelie embraced me, her smile warm and empowering.
“You will do what is right, so long as you always leave yourself open to the possibilities. Be true to yourself, and everything will fall into place,” was her parting advice. I wished her well in return and told her I’d give her a call in a few days to set up a time when Jim could come to visit Cecile again.
I’d arrived earlier than required at the train station, had ample time to get through customs, and soon found myself wandering around the departure area, waiting for our slightly delayed train to arrive. Even though it was late at night, the station was crowded with English tourists returning home after a day spent shopping and sightseeing. The station was a cacophony of the usual train station noises—people talking and laughing, children running around screeching as they played tag or just generally got in the way of people trying to move through the mass of bodies, music coming from the fringes, where several street musicians had set up competing stations, and occasional blasts of static-filled, unintelligible announcements from the train company, in what I assumed was French, English, and German.
Since I wanted to get a good seat facing forward, I edged my way along the platform until I found a tourist-free spot near the far end—away from most of the crowds, but not positioned so I’d end up at the dining car.
“Aisling! What is the most charming Guardian of my acquaintance doing in Paris? I thought you had gone to London to train with Nora.”
I spun around at the deep, slightly accented voice, more than a little startled to behold a familiar face flashing a dimpled smile at me.
“Gabriel! What on earth are you doing here? Your last e-mail said you had to go home to take care of something.”
“I did, but I’ve been summoned by your mate. Is that the train?”
A cheer from the waiting passengers and a whoosh of noise and air heralded the arrival of the now-late train. I stepped to the edge of the platform to see around the crowd, turning back to tell the silver wyvern that the train was in fact coming.
The words never left my mouth. Before I could turn completely, I was struck by a tremendous blow on the small of my back, sending me hurtling onto the train tracks, directly in the path of the arriving train.
5
Pain burst into glorious life on my side, pain that exploded into agony as my arm was damn near yanked out of its socket. Before my brain had time to process the fact that I’d been knocked onto the track, I was off it again, jerked beyond it to the other side of the platform.
A couple of people nearest me screamed, but the noise was eaten up with the arrival of the train as it came to a stop a few scant feet behind me.
A shriek of horror mingled with pain burbled up as I found myself pressed against a hard, unmoving body. My brain finally caught up to reality, causing me to shake with the nearness of my certain demise.
“Oh, my god,” I said, clinging with desperate gratitude to the man who had saved me. Thank god for Gabriel. I had no idea what he was doing at the train station at that moment, but I would, until my last days on the earth, be grateful he was there when I needed him. “Oh, my god, oh, my god. Oh, my god.”
“Not god, cara. The next best thing, though.”
“I was almost killed,” I told Gabriel’s chest, great, huge, heaving sobs of terror and relief trying to rip free of my constricted throat. My arm and rib cage hurt like the very devil, but all I could think of was how nice it was to be alive and feeling pain considering how near I had been to death. “Oh, my god. I almost died.”
“You are a wyvem’s mate. Death does not come easily to one such as you, although I will admit you could well have been decapitated by the train, and that would indeed have been the end to the brave little Guardian.”
Horribly vivid, gruesome images came to mind that had me clutching Gabriel even harder. Two train officials ran up to ask questions, but Gabriel spoke rapidly in French I couldn’t begin to follow, and before I knew it, he was trying to pry me from his chest. “We are attracting unwelcome attention. Come, cara, I will escort you home.”
“I know I’m immortal, but that train could have smashed me to pulp. Or cut me up into a gazillion pieces. Or ... or ... oh, my god!”
“But you know the answer?”
She nodded.
“Criminy. Why does no one ever want to tell me anything?” I groused quietly to myself as I took another sip of the dragon’s-blood beverage. Heat roared through me, causing a few stray flickers to erupt from my fingertips. Absently, I slapped them out. “It’s like some sort of guessing game and everyone knows the rules but me. I hate that sort of thing. It makes me want to take my ball and go home.”
“You still do not have a true understanding of what it is you’ve agreed to do,” Amelie said, shaking her head. “Aisling, this is not a game you play. You hold many people’s lives in the flat of your hand, and I fear that one day, you will destroy them without knowing it.”
Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “I’m sorry, Amelie—I didn’t mean to appear flip. You may not believe it, but I’m very cognizant of my responsibilities to the dragons. Hence my rather strained restraint with Fiat earlier. And I know Jim would say I’m whining, but sometimes I feel like everything is stacked up against me, and there’s no way I’m ever going to find my way out.”
“You will,” she said, signaling for the check. She plopped a couple of coins on the table. “You must simply embrace all of the possibilities.”
“Right. Like the possibility that I’m not going to go insane, and someday, I will understand everything.” I snatched up my purse and followed Amelie through the crowded floor of the club to the door. Once again, a magical aisle opened up for us, and I was aware again of being the focus of many people’s attention. It was a very creepy feeling.
“That is one possibility, yes. How much time do you have?” she asked as we made our way out of the club into the soft evening air, bright lights, and nonstop low drone of chatter that make up Paris on a summer night.
“Eeek. About twenty minutes. Is it far to the train station?”
“Non. We will walk there.”
Security issues being what they are, we had to part at the outer lobby of the train station. Amelie embraced me, her smile warm and empowering.
“You will do what is right, so long as you always leave yourself open to the possibilities. Be true to yourself, and everything will fall into place,” was her parting advice. I wished her well in return and told her I’d give her a call in a few days to set up a time when Jim could come to visit Cecile again.
I’d arrived earlier than required at the train station, had ample time to get through customs, and soon found myself wandering around the departure area, waiting for our slightly delayed train to arrive. Even though it was late at night, the station was crowded with English tourists returning home after a day spent shopping and sightseeing. The station was a cacophony of the usual train station noises—people talking and laughing, children running around screeching as they played tag or just generally got in the way of people trying to move through the mass of bodies, music coming from the fringes, where several street musicians had set up competing stations, and occasional blasts of static-filled, unintelligible announcements from the train company, in what I assumed was French, English, and German.
Since I wanted to get a good seat facing forward, I edged my way along the platform until I found a tourist-free spot near the far end—away from most of the crowds, but not positioned so I’d end up at the dining car.
“Aisling! What is the most charming Guardian of my acquaintance doing in Paris? I thought you had gone to London to train with Nora.”
I spun around at the deep, slightly accented voice, more than a little startled to behold a familiar face flashing a dimpled smile at me.
“Gabriel! What on earth are you doing here? Your last e-mail said you had to go home to take care of something.”
“I did, but I’ve been summoned by your mate. Is that the train?”
A cheer from the waiting passengers and a whoosh of noise and air heralded the arrival of the now-late train. I stepped to the edge of the platform to see around the crowd, turning back to tell the silver wyvern that the train was in fact coming.
The words never left my mouth. Before I could turn completely, I was struck by a tremendous blow on the small of my back, sending me hurtling onto the train tracks, directly in the path of the arriving train.
5
Pain burst into glorious life on my side, pain that exploded into agony as my arm was damn near yanked out of its socket. Before my brain had time to process the fact that I’d been knocked onto the track, I was off it again, jerked beyond it to the other side of the platform.
A couple of people nearest me screamed, but the noise was eaten up with the arrival of the train as it came to a stop a few scant feet behind me.
A shriek of horror mingled with pain burbled up as I found myself pressed against a hard, unmoving body. My brain finally caught up to reality, causing me to shake with the nearness of my certain demise.
“Oh, my god,” I said, clinging with desperate gratitude to the man who had saved me. Thank god for Gabriel. I had no idea what he was doing at the train station at that moment, but I would, until my last days on the earth, be grateful he was there when I needed him. “Oh, my god, oh, my god. Oh, my god.”
“Not god, cara. The next best thing, though.”
“I was almost killed,” I told Gabriel’s chest, great, huge, heaving sobs of terror and relief trying to rip free of my constricted throat. My arm and rib cage hurt like the very devil, but all I could think of was how nice it was to be alive and feeling pain considering how near I had been to death. “Oh, my god. I almost died.”
“You are a wyvem’s mate. Death does not come easily to one such as you, although I will admit you could well have been decapitated by the train, and that would indeed have been the end to the brave little Guardian.”
Horribly vivid, gruesome images came to mind that had me clutching Gabriel even harder. Two train officials ran up to ask questions, but Gabriel spoke rapidly in French I couldn’t begin to follow, and before I knew it, he was trying to pry me from his chest. “We are attracting unwelcome attention. Come, cara, I will escort you home.”
“I know I’m immortal, but that train could have smashed me to pulp. Or cut me up into a gazillion pieces. Or ... or ... oh, my god!”
