Up In Smoke (5 page)

“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.”

“ ‘Lucky' isn't quite the word I was going to—oh, gods.”

Despite my hope that the ceremony was going to be as unobtrusive as possible, the sight of the room full of people didn't depress me. After all, I reasoned, what did it matter if all the demon lords and their minions watched while—clad in a scanty outfit straight out of Magoth's twisted sexual dreams—I formally agreed to be his consort? Once the ceremony was over, I'd return to the mortal world, give Magoth a lecture about behaving himself, and send him on his way before flinging myself into Gabriel's arms.

That was the first thought that ran through my sorely abused brain when I saw the crowd. But then I got a better look at who stood on the far side of the room, and I stopped dead in my tracks, wanting to turn around and run back to my room. “That bastard.”

“Pardon?”

“Magoth. He invited the dragons.”

She pursed her lips as she gave me a critical once-over. “Didn't he say he wanted your dragon here?”

“Yes, but he was so damned happy about the prospect of getting access to the mortal world, he agreed to not invite the dragons for the ceremony. And just look—he not only brought in Gabriel and his two bodyguards; Drake is there with his men, and those guys in blue have to be the blue dragons. That bastard lied to me!”

“Well, he
is
a demon lord. Oh, one moment—let me just spritz you with a little bit of this delicious mist. We call it Sunset Afterglow, and it has the most wonderful iridescent sparkly things in it. You'll love it. There! You're perfect! Or as perfect as we can make you.”

Sally stood aside with a pleased smile. I batted away the iridescent cloud and took a deep breath. No one had noticed us at the door of the oratory, the room being filled to capacity with demon lords, demons, and other minions of Abaddon. Across from them, the dragons stood together, warily watching the rest of the audience. My happiness upon seeing Gabriel dissolved into a horrified feeling of embarrassment and shame. “Magoth really is grinding my face in it,” I muttered. “It's not enough I agreed to be his consort so he can finally access the mortal world; oh, no, he has to bring in every dragon he could find to witness this horrible event.”

“Carrie Fay always says that nothing is really horrible unless it eats away your face,” Sally said with sublime disregard.

That pulled me up short.

“You have to admit, she has a point,” Sally said in answer to my look of disbelief.

“Right. This promises to be one of the most humiliating moments in my life, but the reward at the end of it is worth it a thousand times over, so let's just get this done, shall we?”

“When I was a corporate motivational speaker, I used to tell my clients that attitude is everything,” Sally advised as I pushed past her into the crowd of low-level demons. “If you believe you're going to have fun, you will have fun! Unless, of course, Magoth requires you to undergo the ritual of burning flesh as part of the ceremony, in which case you'll probably just writhe on the ground in the most intense agony you could ever imagine, but at least you'd be providing entertainment to others, so even
that
isn't all bad.”

The demons, most of which were in human form, refused to allow me through their throng until I elbowed them, poked them, or in a few cases, whapped them upside the head with my spiked necklace wrapped around my hand. Almost all of them were bigger than me, which made for slow going until I had the bright idea of shoving the larger Sally in front of me and letting her do the hard work.

“My hair!” she squawked when I shoved her at a clump of level-five demons in dirty black leather jackets with “Satins Minyuns” scrawled in blood across their respective backs. “My dress!”

“Just pretend they're a bunch of Microsoft yuppies, and give them your standard motivational speech. That ought to make them cringe and cower.”

The look she shot me confirmed my suspicion that she would fit right in with this place, but I didn't have long to dwell on her rightness with things demonic before she managed to beat her way through the demons to the raised stone dais where Magoth stood chatting with a smallish, ordinary-looking man. Gabriel, Drake, and the rest of the dragons stood just beyond them. I tried to keep my gaze averted from Gabriel's, rather hoping to miss his expression upon first seeing me in my nearly nonexistent ensemble, but it was asking too much of my aching heart.

I caught the first expression of joy in his silver eyes before a form of indignation flashed in their depths as I cleared the crowd and moved toward Magoth. That was soon followed by sheer rage, but luckily, that faded and was replaced by a slight deepening of the indentations on his cheeks that marked his dimples.

I relaxed a smidgen, relieved that I wasn't going to have to intervene in a battle between Gabriel and Magoth, and gave the former a small smile to let him know I appreciated him seeing the humor of the situation.

“There she is!” Magoth said, springing at me. “How delightful you look almost wearing that outfit. My lord Bael, I should like to present for your approval my consort, the sweet and deliciously nubile May, a doppelganger who has been bound to me since the moment of her creation, and one who, I am delighted to say, has served my many and varied personal needs to my utmost satisfaction.”

I thought about telling Magoth to knock it off, that Gabriel was going to see through such obvious tactics, but the presence of the premier prince of Abaddon kept my tongue behind my teeth. Bael gave me a thorough once-over as I made a little bow, but unlike Magoth's, his visual examination was not the least bit sexual. Power sparked off him in a palpable corona, leaving me with a sick feeling in my stomach as he seemed to strip away my facade and look deep into my soul. It was a nerve-shattering experience, but I drew comfort from the fact that Gabriel was there, and managed to keep from cowering before Bael.

He dismissed me with a gesture that indicated he was less than impressed. “Let the ceremony proceed. I have more important things to do than watch you preen.”

Magoth didn't like that, but as the lowest of all the demon lords, he knew better than to lip off. He simply nodded and held his hand out for me, his eyes on Gabriel as he paraded me around the perimeter of the dais. “Fellow demon lords, members of my legions, and minions of all sorts, today at long last I take a consort. Behold the sweet and succulent May Northcott, servant and doppelganger, whom I bestow with not only the pleasures to be found in my body, but all rights and honors due me.
Venisti remanebis donec denuo compeltus sis, decus et tutamen, dulce et utile
.”

I kept my lips from curling in a grimace at his words. The Latin Magoth spoke was a phrase I'd seen in the Doctrine of Unending Conscious and was loosely translated as “From whence you came, you shall remain, until you are complete again, an ornament and a safeguard, a sweet and useful thing.” It was Magoth's way of granting me the position of his consort, while reminding me that such a position was pretty much in name only. All the rights and honors he'd spoken of came to about nothing, which was fine with me. The less I had to do with the workings of Abaddon, the happier I'd be.

Magoth stopped in front of Bael and waited for my response. I knew what I was supposed to say—the standard form of the consort's agreement was also in Latin, society in Abaddon preferring to cling to the old ways—but I couldn't bring myself to speak the words that would praise Magoth above all others.

“
Duae tabulae rasae in quibus nihil scriptum est,
” I improvised.

Magoth's jaw dropped just a smidgen.

“I saw that at the studio back when you were making movies,” I whispered, my gaze flickering over to Gabriel.

His dimples flared briefly to life, telling me he spoke Latin. “Two minds, not one single thought” had been used in a Stan Laurel movie, the set of which I'd visited many decades before. As an acknowledgment of my newfound status, it was less than polite, but it suited the situation.

“
Hic et nunc,
” Bael said, putting his official seal of approval on the ceremony. “I will leave you to enjoy your new consort.”

Magoth bowed low to Bael as he shimmered in the air, then disappeared, turning back to me with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Thank god that's over,” I said, yanking my hand from his, fully intending to run to Gabriel.

“I agree—it was a tedious ceremony, but alas, one has to observe the formalities. Still, it was worth it to have access to your precious mortal world. I assume you are desirous of leaving? Excellent. As am I.”

Before I could take two steps from him, Magoth grabbed my wrist, rent the fabric of space, and jerked me through after him as he plunged into the mortal world for the first time in almost ninety years.

“Don't! Wait! Gabrieeeee—” The words spiraled into a scream as I was hauled after him, my last view that of Gabriel leaping toward me.

I hit the pavement hard enough to stun me for a few seconds. My hands and knees stung as I pushed myself off the ground, shaking my head to clear it before glaring at Magoth. “A little warning would have been nice. What on earth are you doing?”

Magoth stood with his hands on his hips, his head tipped back, his eyes closed as he sucked in deep breaths. “Can't you smell it?”

I eyed the nearby trash can as I got to my feet. We were in some sort of an alley, assumedly in Paris if the garbage that littered the ground was anything to go by. “I'd have to be dead to not smell it. The garbage collectors are probably on strike again.”