Up In Smoke
Page 8

‘‘That’s not necessary,’’ I said absently, turning in my hands a scanty bit of lamé and leather that Magoth had produced as proper consort wear. ‘‘He has to be kidding. This isn’t enough to cover a hamster, let alone a woman.’’
‘‘Well, you are positively tiny,’’ Sally said, turning around so she could examine her backside in the mirror. ‘‘Do you think the bow at the derriere is too much? I think it adds a sort of jaunty touch, but if you think it’s out of line with the gravity of the moment, I can snip it off.’’
I shook out the consort garment in hopes it would magically enlarge, sighing when it remained a pathetic little contraption made up of leather straps and what I assumed were strategically placed bits of cloth. ‘‘I don’t think it’s really going to matter. Thank god I didn’t tell Gabriel that Magoth wanted him for the consort ceremony. I’d really rather he not see me in this. Magoth went way over the line this time.’’
‘‘Oh, I’m sure it’s not that bad,’’ Sally called after me as I escaped to the privacy of the bathroom to don the skimpy outfit. ‘‘I’ve found that he has exceptionally good taste. He absolutely loves this dress!’’
It took me a minute to struggle into the skintight leather-strap outfit that Magoth had created for me, and then another couple of minutes to steel my nerve to step out of the bathroom. I knew without even seeing my reflection that I looked like a cross between a bondage princess and a stripper, buckled leather straps the only things covering my naked torso. The straps continued down my legs, ending in a pair of stilettos that would quite possibly leave me lame. There was a bit of cloth at the crotch, but other than that, it was all leather straps. ‘‘I think this little item puts the question of Magoth’s supposed good taste to an end.’’
‘‘I wonder if I should change into a strapless bra for this dress,’’ Sally murmured, fluffing her cleavage and leaning down to examine the results in the mirror. ‘‘Sorry? Did you say someth . . . Oh, my.’’
‘‘Don’t say it,’’ I told her, only just keeping from looking down at myself to make sure one of my breasts hadn’t popped out of its restrictive strap.
‘‘You . . . That’s very . . . Oh, my.’’
‘‘Uh-huh.’’ I picked up a spiked dog collar and pursed my lips at it for a moment as I contemplated canceling the whole thing, but the image of a silver-eyed dragon rose in my mind. I strapped the dog collar onto my neck and nodded to Sally. ‘‘All right, demon of honor, let’s get this done.’’
‘‘Don’t you want to . . . er . . . check your outfit?’’ she asked, waving a hand toward the mirror. The look on her face was a nearly indescribable mixture of horror and amusement.
‘‘I wouldn’t if I could,’’ I said, giving the mirror a quick frown. ‘‘Magoth really is perverse.’’
She eyed me as I slipped my familiar dagger into the sheath at my ankle. ‘‘It’s hard to deny a statement like that when faced with your ensemble, but perhaps he didn’t know what it would look like on you?’’
I opened the door, adjusted the large leather strap that ran across my breasts so it hid my nipples, tugged down the minuscule bit of cloth on my rump, and prayed the upcoming ceremony was going to be brief. ‘‘That isn’t actually what I was referring to, although it certainly applies. I was talking about the mirror.’’
‘‘The mirror? You’re still going on about that? And you know, I’m not really a demon, so the term ‘demon of honor’ isn’t technically correct. I think I’d prefer the term ‘counsel,’ since I’m here to give you the benefit of my experiences with both the Carrie Fay world and Abaddon.’’
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her what was the difference, but I managed to stifle that urge. ‘‘Magoth had that huge mirror put in my room simply out of perverse pleasure. He insists on pretending he can’t remember that I don’t have a reflection even though we both know better.’’
We emerged into a vast open hall, high Gothic arches soaring over our heads. The air was cold, just as it was in all of Magoth’s domain, my room excepted. I rubbed the goose bumps on my bare arms, wishing for a space heater or thick down comforter. ‘‘Which room did he say the ceremony was being held in?’’
Sally gave me a look that spoke volumes. ‘‘I’ve never been one to offer unsolicited advice, but I feel compelled by the bonds of our friendship, and the fact that I will soon be a colleague of your master, to break that rule just this once. You are about to become Magoth’s consort, recognized by all members of Abaddon as such, and bestowed with powers and responsibilities appropriate to such a lofty position. Given all that, you really should make more of an effort to listen to him when he speaks.’’
‘‘I tried that once. It gave me a migraine.’’ I narrowed my eyes as I thought. ‘‘Library?’’
‘‘Oratory,’’ she said with a shake of her head.
‘‘Figures. He loves that room. He used to act out all of his old movies in there because the acoustics are so good. I have no doubt he’ll ham it up this time, as well.’’
Sally didn’t say anything to my flip comment, but censure was heavy in the air.
Like the rest of Magoth’s domain in Abaddon, the oratory—which reflected more the original interpretation of the word (a place where one speaks) as opposed to the religious interpretation—was built with chilly walls of black basalt, and floors of even colder marble. I hadn’t been to any other parts of Abaddon, but I assumed the cold was just one of Magoth’s personal quirks and not a reflection of the general temperature of the place many mortals thought of as Hell.
Taking a deep breath before the double doors that led to the oratory, I lifted my head and threw open the doors, hoping against hope that none of the other demon lords had decided to come to the ceremony.
The room was packed, standing room only.
‘‘Agathos daimon,’’ I murmured under my breath at the mass of bodies filling the room.
‘‘My Latin is a bit rusty, but doesn’t that mean ‘good spirit’?’’ Sally asked, peering over my shoulder at the crowd. ‘‘Oh! How lucky! It looks like everyone has shown up.’’