Light My Fire
Page 18
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“It’s difficult for me to tell,” the young man said, gingerly feeling Rene’s arms and legs. “But I don’t think anything’s broken. Internal injuries are beyond me, however.”
Rene’s left leg twitched. I was in the process of using an unbloodied bit of dress to put some pressure on his head wound, but instead I sat watching with stunned wonder as the wound closed itself and melted into nothing.
Two brown eyes opened to meet my astonished gaze.
I leaned close and whispered, “Who are you?”
“A friend,” he whispered back, a little twinkle flashing in his eyes. The siren of an ambulance grew louder and closer as I sat back, wondering for what seemed like the umpteenth time just who he was and why he was in my life.
I allowed the paramedics to pull me aside and check me over for injuries without one murmur of dissent. Rene, however, argued with them that he was just fine, and that the blood must have come from a slight cut in his scalp.
“Everyone knows how the wounds of the head, they bleed like the pig running around without its brain,” he told the nearest paramedic.
The woman looked a little surprised but couldn’t argue with the evidence Rene presented—he looked hale and hearty as he told everyone that he didn’t need further examination.
“I’m sorry about your cousin’s taxi,” I said a short while later, after signing a release form and getting a lecture about being checked out at the nearest hospital. I waved at the paramedics as they left. “I don’t know if it’s shock from the accident or what, but I’m not quite exactly sure what happened. All I remember was seeing a flash of white, then boom!”
Rene stood with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the wreckage of his taxi. A couple of nearby policemen were directing traffic around it, while in the distance I could see a tow truck making its way through the backup. “The car is not important. My cousin will be angry, but that is what the insurance is for, no? Do not derange yourself over it. You are certain you are not hurt?”
“Immortal, remember?” I said softly, calling out my thanks to the serious young man as he and his lady friend finished talking to another policeman. He and the girl walked over to matching motor scooters. “It takes more than a little hit-and-run to do me in.”
“Oui, but you can still be injured, as can Jim.”
Jim glared.
“Yes, you can talk,” I told the demon, “but keep it low. I don’t need any more attention from the straight guys.”
“Meh. You worry too much about what other people will think.” Jim ruined its disinterested tone by rubbing its furry head on my leg. I knelt down and gave it a big hug, tears pricking my eyes in aftershock.
“Man, a little bang up, and she goes all girly,” Jim said, giving my neck a quick swipe with its tongue. “I’ve seen bunnies fiercer than you, oh mighty demon lord.”
“I’m sorry; I’m a girl. I’m strong, professional, and capable of dealing with life on my own, but that doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in a bit of happy tears now and again. Do you think we can get another cab in this mess? I’m late already, and Drake is going to kill me if I miss this meeting.”
“It is important that you be there,” Rene said, spinning around to examine the massive traffic jam. “Non. It is not possible here, but there”—he pointed to a pedestrian mall that ran at right angles to us—“that is how you shall get out. I will arrange for it.”
I have no idea what he said to get the serious young motor-scooter guy and his friend to give Jim and me a lift, but before I could think of any one of a thousand rational reasons why I should not find myself perched on the back of a scooter, Jim crushed between me and the driver as we illegally zipped through a pedestrian-only area, we were through it and on the road again.
“Thanks again,” I told the young man a few minutes later, pushing a couple of pound coins into his hand. Jim shook itself, shot me a few looks to let me know it didn’t appreciate the mode of transportation we’d been forced to take, marched over to a nearby shrub in a big cement urn, and peed on it.
I waved off the couple with more thanks, smiled at a doorman helping an elderly woman out of a taxi, and sailed through the revolving door to the lobby of London’s famed Putnam Hotel just as if I wasn’t bloody, battered, wrinkled, and missing one sandal.
“You are late,” a man’s voice growled at me as I limped up to the reception desk.
“Hello, Istvan. Nice to see you again. How’s life been treating you?”
The red-haired dragon who was one of Drake’s two ever-present bodyguards looked me over from the top of my head down to my one bare foot.
“Better than you. You are hurt?”
“No, this isn’t my blood.”
Istvan nodded and turned to Jim. He said something in a language I didn’t understand. Jim bared its teeth in answer. Without another word, Istvan turned and walked toward the elevators.
I smiled brightly at the people nearest us, all of whom were gawking with unabashed curiosity.
“I’m a professional,” I muttered under my breath as we followed Istvan to the bank of elevators. “I am a Guardian, and a wyvern’s mate, and a demon lord. What other people think of me walking into a nice hotel covered in dirt, blood, and powdered glass is immaterial.”
“Maybe, but I bet you’re turning a few eyes with the tear up the back of your dress. Hot pink undies, eh?” Jim said from behind me.
I hastily grabbed at the back of my dress, whirling around so my butt was toward the elevators. Which, of course, meant that I was staring out across the packed lobby.
Everyone was staring back.
“Why can’t I ever go anywhere without being embarrassed, attacked, or confronted?” I asked as I backed into the elevator.
Istvan shrugged as he punched a button. The couple next to him took one look at Jim and me and hastily bailed out of the elevator.
“You are different from all others,” Istvan said, folding his arms over his chest as he gave me a dark look. “You should be happy you are wyvern’s mate.”
“I would be happier if I were a wyvern’s mate who didn’t have a torn dress and a bunch of imps out for my blood,” I answered, closing my eyes and trying to get ahold of myself. I had to face Drake, and that took immense energy, even when we were in agreement about life.
Rene’s left leg twitched. I was in the process of using an unbloodied bit of dress to put some pressure on his head wound, but instead I sat watching with stunned wonder as the wound closed itself and melted into nothing.
Two brown eyes opened to meet my astonished gaze.
I leaned close and whispered, “Who are you?”
“A friend,” he whispered back, a little twinkle flashing in his eyes. The siren of an ambulance grew louder and closer as I sat back, wondering for what seemed like the umpteenth time just who he was and why he was in my life.
I allowed the paramedics to pull me aside and check me over for injuries without one murmur of dissent. Rene, however, argued with them that he was just fine, and that the blood must have come from a slight cut in his scalp.
“Everyone knows how the wounds of the head, they bleed like the pig running around without its brain,” he told the nearest paramedic.
The woman looked a little surprised but couldn’t argue with the evidence Rene presented—he looked hale and hearty as he told everyone that he didn’t need further examination.
“I’m sorry about your cousin’s taxi,” I said a short while later, after signing a release form and getting a lecture about being checked out at the nearest hospital. I waved at the paramedics as they left. “I don’t know if it’s shock from the accident or what, but I’m not quite exactly sure what happened. All I remember was seeing a flash of white, then boom!”
Rene stood with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the wreckage of his taxi. A couple of nearby policemen were directing traffic around it, while in the distance I could see a tow truck making its way through the backup. “The car is not important. My cousin will be angry, but that is what the insurance is for, no? Do not derange yourself over it. You are certain you are not hurt?”
“Immortal, remember?” I said softly, calling out my thanks to the serious young man as he and his lady friend finished talking to another policeman. He and the girl walked over to matching motor scooters. “It takes more than a little hit-and-run to do me in.”
“Oui, but you can still be injured, as can Jim.”
Jim glared.
“Yes, you can talk,” I told the demon, “but keep it low. I don’t need any more attention from the straight guys.”
“Meh. You worry too much about what other people will think.” Jim ruined its disinterested tone by rubbing its furry head on my leg. I knelt down and gave it a big hug, tears pricking my eyes in aftershock.
“Man, a little bang up, and she goes all girly,” Jim said, giving my neck a quick swipe with its tongue. “I’ve seen bunnies fiercer than you, oh mighty demon lord.”
“I’m sorry; I’m a girl. I’m strong, professional, and capable of dealing with life on my own, but that doesn’t mean I can’t indulge in a bit of happy tears now and again. Do you think we can get another cab in this mess? I’m late already, and Drake is going to kill me if I miss this meeting.”
“It is important that you be there,” Rene said, spinning around to examine the massive traffic jam. “Non. It is not possible here, but there”—he pointed to a pedestrian mall that ran at right angles to us—“that is how you shall get out. I will arrange for it.”
I have no idea what he said to get the serious young motor-scooter guy and his friend to give Jim and me a lift, but before I could think of any one of a thousand rational reasons why I should not find myself perched on the back of a scooter, Jim crushed between me and the driver as we illegally zipped through a pedestrian-only area, we were through it and on the road again.
“Thanks again,” I told the young man a few minutes later, pushing a couple of pound coins into his hand. Jim shook itself, shot me a few looks to let me know it didn’t appreciate the mode of transportation we’d been forced to take, marched over to a nearby shrub in a big cement urn, and peed on it.
I waved off the couple with more thanks, smiled at a doorman helping an elderly woman out of a taxi, and sailed through the revolving door to the lobby of London’s famed Putnam Hotel just as if I wasn’t bloody, battered, wrinkled, and missing one sandal.
“You are late,” a man’s voice growled at me as I limped up to the reception desk.
“Hello, Istvan. Nice to see you again. How’s life been treating you?”
The red-haired dragon who was one of Drake’s two ever-present bodyguards looked me over from the top of my head down to my one bare foot.
“Better than you. You are hurt?”
“No, this isn’t my blood.”
Istvan nodded and turned to Jim. He said something in a language I didn’t understand. Jim bared its teeth in answer. Without another word, Istvan turned and walked toward the elevators.
I smiled brightly at the people nearest us, all of whom were gawking with unabashed curiosity.
“I’m a professional,” I muttered under my breath as we followed Istvan to the bank of elevators. “I am a Guardian, and a wyvern’s mate, and a demon lord. What other people think of me walking into a nice hotel covered in dirt, blood, and powdered glass is immaterial.”
“Maybe, but I bet you’re turning a few eyes with the tear up the back of your dress. Hot pink undies, eh?” Jim said from behind me.
I hastily grabbed at the back of my dress, whirling around so my butt was toward the elevators. Which, of course, meant that I was staring out across the packed lobby.
Everyone was staring back.
“Why can’t I ever go anywhere without being embarrassed, attacked, or confronted?” I asked as I backed into the elevator.
Istvan shrugged as he punched a button. The couple next to him took one look at Jim and me and hastily bailed out of the elevator.
“You are different from all others,” Istvan said, folding his arms over his chest as he gave me a dark look. “You should be happy you are wyvern’s mate.”
“I would be happier if I were a wyvern’s mate who didn’t have a torn dress and a bunch of imps out for my blood,” I answered, closing my eyes and trying to get ahold of myself. I had to face Drake, and that took immense energy, even when we were in agreement about life.
