“It’s only eleven,” I told Bael. “Our appointment was for twelve.”
“Goodness, what—oh, my!” Paula said, clutching my stepfather. “What just happened? Where are we? David, did you see?”
“Yes,” he answered slowly, taking in our situation. We were standing in front of a massive desk, in a wood-paneled room that was filled with books.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“You have yet to keep an appointment. I simply ensured you made this one,” Bael answered.
“You interrupted my wedding!” I said, squaring my shoulders as I met the gaze of the demon lord.
“A wedding—how quaint.” Bael changed appearances like the rest of us changed clothes. Today he appeared square-jawed and blue-eyed, wearing a navy blue suit and holding a sheaf of papers. He would have been indistinguishable from any other businessman except for the black corona of power that crackled around him. “I assume these people are your parents?”
I moved to stand protectively in front of Paula. “Yes. Please send them back—they have nothing to do with the situation between us.”
“On the contrary, I find their presence most refreshing.” His eyes moved to Drake. “And a wyvern. It has been many centuries since I have entertained dragons. You are welcome here.”
Drake inclined his head politely. “I must insist that my mate’s request be granted. The members of the weyr will naturally remain with Aisling, but the mortals must be returned to their world.”
“Indeed? But then how will she be able to present me with their sacrifice?” Bael asked, setting down the papers and smiling pleasantly at me.
If I’d been mortal, that smile probably would have taken a good twenty years off my life.
“Mortals? Weyr? Aisling, who is this man? What’s going on?” Paula asked.
“Send them back,” I said swiftly to Bael. “Now. Please.”
“And miss the fun of watching you explain to these good people who and what you are?” Amusement was rife in his eyes. “I think not.”
Uncle Damian pulled Paula and David back, murmuring quietly in their ears. I flashed him a grateful look and returned my attention to Bael. I had enough wits left to me to know that what I had planned was going to need every bit of my power to pull off without anyone being destroyed.
“What?” Paula said, her voice rising in a shriek. “Hell? We’re in Hell? And that man is the devil? Well! He has some nerve!”
Before I could stop her she marched over to Bael, put her hands on her hips, and glared.
“Oh, my god,” I muttered, rushing to her side. “Paula, please—”
“I knew one day I would come face-to-face with the devil, although I didn’t think that would be until Judgment Day, but since we’re both here, I have a few things I’d like to say to you. Hitler! Terrorists! Chlorine in the water system!”
“I believe it’s fluoride you’re thinking of, dear, not chlorine,” David said thoughtfully.
Bael looked startled for a moment as Paula shook her fist at him. “Does this mother of yours, this mortal, dare to chastise me?”
“Crib deaths! That’s you, too, isn’t it? And those nasty cult people and their poison Kool-Aid! And drug users! You’re probably responsible for all the drug users!”
“Um…” I put my hands on Paula’s shoulders and pulled her back. “Yeah. She gets a bit overwrought about things.”
“Henry the Eighth…he was evil, chopping off all his wives’ heads. Don’t you deny it! Oh! And the Reagan presidency!”
“Now I know where you get your irreverence,” he said, looking askance as she poked him in the chest.
“What about cattle mutilations? Don’t say you’re not behind those, because I know you are! Just think of all those innocent cows!”
“We’re not actually related by blood,” I told him, pulling her back again. This time Uncle Damian snagged her and hauled her back to where my stepfather stood.
“I believe cattle mutilations are commonly thought to be caused by aliens,” David told her.
“Get thee behind me!” Paula shouted at Bael.
Bael rolled his eyes and waved a languid hand. “I grant your dispensation.”
The demon who’d brought us reached up and ripped a tear in the wall and pulled my family through it before Paula could do more than utter, “Mimes! You can’t tell me the devil doesn’t have anything to do with mimes!”
“Thank you,” I told Bael, relieved that at the very least, my family would be safe. “Now, about those six sacrifices you are demanding in homage. Traci, I summon thee.”
The steward appeared, wearing a disheveled tuxedo, the bow tie lying open along an unbuttoned, pleated shirt. In one hand it held a champagne flute, its arm wrapped around a blond female who was kissing the demon while stroking a hand down its bare chest. Traci’s other hand was holding the right breast of another scantily clad woman, this one nibbling on its ear.
“All in good time, my sweet,” Traci said the second the first female demon stopped sucking its face. “I promised your sister I would attend to her needs first.”
I coughed and raised my eyebrows.
“Oh, glorious fires of Abaddon. Lord Aisling! You said you would not need me today! I distinctly understood you to say that it was tomorrow that you’d want me….” The anger in Traci’s voice trailed away with all sound as it saw Bael. “Most revered Lord Bael! I…I was…”
“I don’t think anyone is confused about what you were doing,” I said, leaning against Drake. I was past the point of exhaustion—and thankfully also past the rummy stage of giddiness in which my mouth seemed to operate without any input from my brain—but my body felt slow and unresponsive, as if my limbs were weighted down. “Would you mind getting rid of your…thanks.”
The two female demons eeped as they saw Bael, and disappeared in puffs of thick, black smoke.
Traci cleared its throat and hurriedly buttoned its shirt before bowing to me. “My lord, you summoned me?”
“Yes. Do you have my sacrifices for Bael?”
Traci’s face fell. “Well…as to that, my lord…er…”
Drake leaned toward me. “What sacrifice is this?”
“Bael has demanded I pay homage to him,” I answered in a whisper before saying in a louder voice, “I’m sure Bael is a busy man. Go get the sacrifices, and we’ll get this over with.”
“You are to pay homage to the premiere prince of Hell?” Kostya asked, moving over so he stood directly behind me. Pál and István followed suit, with Jim leaning against my knees. “You cannot do that! Did you not swear fealty to the green dragons?”
Traci bowed a couple of times to Bael as it hurried over and joined the group. I had a horrible suspicion we presented the appearance of a particularly off-kilter football huddle.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve been all over that, but it’s not a big deal because I’m not really going to do an homage. Traci, where are the sacrifices?”
“I didn’t get them,” the demon answered miserably.
“What?” I poked my head up and smiled at Bael, who was watching us with an indescribably awful expression of mounting anger. “Sorry. Can we have a quick time-out? Just a few things I need to straighten out about the sacrifices.”
Bael’s resulting roar of fury shook the house.
“Where the hell are the sacrifices?” I asked Traci, grabbing the demon’s sleeves and shaking it.
“Abad—” Jim started to say, but stopped when I let loose with a little frustrated scream.
“I couldn’t get them; the people at the farm threw me out after I said I wanted to euthanize them.”
I closed my eyes in horror. “Oh, crap.”
Drake’s voice pierced the miasma of regret that swamped me. “Aisling, tell me you were not planning on making the sacrifice I think you were planning on making.”
I nodded, opening my eyes again. “I thought it was a really good plan. Traci got the stuff from a vet and it would have been just perfect if only th
ose stupid chicken-farm people would have cooperated.”
“I have had enough of this farce!” Bael bellowed, his hands fisted as he strode toward me.
Instantly, the football huddle turned into a wall of dragons that stood between me and Bael.
“You will present the sacrifices to me now, before I lose my patience and banish you as you deserve!”
“Traci?”
“I’m sorry, lord,” it answered, spreading its hands wide.
“Go get the sacrifices,” I said in a loud voice, leaning in to add an additional instruction.
Traci looked horrified for a moment before its form disappeared. I smiled over Drake’s shoulder. “It’ll be just a minute—oh, there it is. You get points for speediness, Traci.”
The demon thrust two bags at me. I waved it toward Bael.
“Banish me if you must,” Traci said, shoving the bags in my hands. “But I cannot do this.”
“Aisling Grey, I have lost all patience with—”
I snatched the bags and ran forward, dumping the contents on the table that sat next to where Bael loomed. “Sorry! Here they are. My sacrifices to pay homage to you.”
Bael stared in complete shock at the six items as I arranged them in an attractive presentation.
“There was a slight mix-up in the original sacrifices, but these are just as good,” I said, licking one sticky finger. “Better, actually. As you can see, two of the roast chickens are teriyaki, three are some sort of a lemongrass rub, and the last one looks like whisky barbecue.”
There was a moment of complete silence before Bael’s roar threw me back three feet, luckily straight into Drake.
“You dare!” Bael screamed, his face twisted with fury.
“There’s no dare about it,” I answered, allowing Drake to wrap his arms around me.
“Mate—” he whispered into my ear.
“I’m OK,” I told him quietly. “I know what I’m doing.”
“If it gets out of hand, I will have no choice but to take charge,” he warned me.
I nodded, my eyes still on Bael. “According to the Doctrine of Unending Conscious, I must present you with six sacrifices. Nothing was said about what form those sacrifices must take. My offering is as you see—six chickens, sacrificed, seasoned, and roasted to perfection in your name.”
Bael’s face turned bright red. I thought for a moment that he was going to explode right there in front of us. Evidently Drake thought so as well because his arms tightened around me. “Aisling—”
“It’s OK,” I whispered, raising my voice in what I prayed was a confident tone. “By the laws that govern Abaddon, I have met the terms of your demands.”
Bael hissed as he visibly struggled to regain control, but after a few seconds of a really close call, his color cleared up and he stopped clenching his fists.
“You have mocked everything I represent from the first moment you became a demon lord. Do you think your pathetically transparent attempts to incite an expulsion have fooled me? Do you think I would release one I worked so hard to bring into my power?”
We were on dangerous ground here. I sent up another prayer that Traci’s research into the Doctrine was as thorough as it claimed it was. “I will never be what you want me to be, Bael. I will never again use the dark power. You may be able to force me to remain a prince, but I will fight you every step of the way. I will do everything I can to undermine your power and influence over the other demon lords. I will continue to fight the good fight, and I will never, ever, stop trying to get away.”
“Aisling.” Drake breathed a warning into my ear. “Even I would not speak thusly to Bael.”
“Give me one reason, one singular reason why I should not banish you to the Akasha at this very moment,” Bael said, walking slowly toward us. The dragons tightened ranks. Jim leaped to its feet and valiantly bared its teeth, even though it knew it wouldn’t stand a chance against the premiere prince of Abaddon.
I lifted my chin and tried mightily to meet Bael’s gaze, but I couldn’t quite do it. I stared at his ear, instead. “Because you can’t do that without having a revolution on your hands.”
Bael paused in his steady progress toward me.
Drake’s arms tightened again. I patted his hand until he loosened his grip somewhat.
“I found the Doctrine very interesting reading. Most of it was just esoteric stuff that went on and on about what form damnations should take, and which torments were allowed, but there was a very interesting albeit short section about the formation of the princes, particularly about the removal thereof.”
Bael’s face turned to a frozen mask.
“To be specific, it says that you can’t banish a fellow demon lord. No prince can—only someone who is not one of the eight princes can banish you guys. Which is why you set me up to banish Ariton, isn’t it? You couldn’t do it without having the other six princes rise up and overthrow you, so you arranged the situation so I inadvertently took care of a troublesome prince for you.” I squared my shoulders. “In other words, you’re stuck with me—unless you and the other princes vote me off the island.”
Fury flashed in Bael’s blue eyes for a moment. I knew he must be feeling cornered at that moment, and a cornered demon lord was a dangerous beast. I picked my next few words carefully.
“I never intended to enact a coup, as you well know. I simply wanted to point out to you what a pain in the ass I will be if you do not convince the others to give me the boot. You can’t possibly want me to remain here. I have rejected the dark power time and time again, and with the support and love of my friends and family, I will continue to do so.”
A muscle in Bael’s jaw twitched, but still he said nothing.
Drake curled one arm protectively around me, his eyes velvety green as he watched the demon lord.
“I am not threatening you, and I am not challenging your authority, but I am saying that I will continue to be a thorn in your side. I will not rest until I have been granted an expulsion from Abaddon, and I am prepared to do whatever it takes—within the bounds of what I consider morally allowable—to see that happen.”
Rather than rant and rave, Bael relaxed at what I said, the glint of anger fading as he leaned against the table next to him. “Indeed? You ask much of me, Aisling Grey. I went to great pains to put you into place—granted, you were of use to me in removing the annoying Ariton, but even so, I had come to see the possibilities of your presence in Abaddon. And yet you wish now for me to grant you a great undertaking, for it will not be easy to convince the other lords to ex pulse you.”
I didn’t believe that for a second, but I wasn’t foolish enough to put my thoughts into speech.
“Your wyvern is no doubt well aware that such a favor as you ask of me will not be granted without a substantial payment…and a sacrifice.”
I glanced at Drake. His body language read caution. “What price do you demand of my mate?”
“And what sacrifice?” I asked, more worried about that than money.
Bael toyed with a dagger that lay on the table. I refused to think about what it was doing there. “Your wyvern has in his possession three trinkets, I believe. Their return would satisfy the price I demand.”
“Trinkets?” I asked suspiciously, casting my mind over the things in Drake’s house. “What trinkets?”
Jim stepped on my foot, its eyes trying to tell me something.
“The Tools,” Drake said softly, his eyes glittering now as if he was sizing up Bael. “You wish for the return of the three Tools.”
“The Tools of Bael?” I asked, my voice rising on the last word. “You’re joking! You think I’m going to hand over to you the three Tools? Those things are powerful as all get-out on their own—together, whoever wields them can rule the Otherworld! I don’t think so!”
Bael laughed, a horrible sound that made the skin on my back crawl. “Do you think if they had that possibility for me that I would not have done anything to possess them again? The Tools p
rovide the bearer access to my power, something I would point out I already have.”
“Oh.” I thought about that for a moment or two. It made sense—when I’d handed the three Tools over to Drake for safekeeping, I’d done so to keep them out of harm’s way. Drake had enough power and had no need to control the Otherworld, but others were not so trustworthy. I turned to him now, asking, “Is that true?”
He nodded slowly. “The Tools would be of no use to Bael. Which makes me wonder why, then, he is so anxious to have them.”
“It is a trivial reason,” Bael answered dismissively, his hands gesturing away the question. “They were mine, pretty things, taken from me. Surely a dragon can appreciate the need to possess that which was once his?”
“Yes,” Drake answered. “I can also understand the desire to remove a possible conduit to my powers from the reach of others.”
Anger flared to life for a fraction of a second in Bael’s eyes.
“I think you hit a nerve,” I said softly. “What do you think? Are you willing to give up the Tools to him? Would they be safe?”
Drake was silent for a moment. “I would not give them up for anything but you. I do, however, believe that Bael will keep them from being used by members of the Otherworld. Whether or not he does so from his fellow princes is up to him.”
“I have not ruled Abaddon as long as I have by being foolish,” Bael answered.
“OK, so that takes care of the price. What sacrifice do you want now? I think the local store is fresh out of roast chickens, but I’m willing to spring for a turkey or even a couple of pot roasts if that’ll do the trick.”
“Oh, no,” Bael said, tossing the dagger in the air and catching it by the very tip of its blade. “This sacrifice is demanded of you, Aisling Grey. You ask for a sacrifice on my part in going to the trouble of having you removed from Abaddon—you must provide me with a similar sacrifice.”
“What, exactly?” I asked, a hollow feeling in my gut.
Bael’s hand jerked downward, embedding the point of the dagger a good three inches into the solid wood of the table. I jumped at the violence of the movement, squeezing up tight to Drake as Bael’s expression darkened. “Be it known to all that upon payment of the items known as the Tools of Bael, and a formal disavowal of Guardianship, I will grant Aisling Grey, seventh prince of Abaddon, expulsion from our ranks.”