Up In Smoke

by Katie MacAlister

  “Go get us tickets to Rome,” I said after we turned in the car to the rental agency.

  She glared at me. “That’s all you’re going to say? Just go get tickets? May, I shouldn’t have to prove myself to Neptune—”

  “You’re the one who messed up,” I interrupted her, pulling out my cell phone. “Now you have to pay the price. So stop complaining and go get us tickets so we can see just how badly damaged the spring is, and then make some plans to clear things up so I can get back to figuring out how I’m going to spring a wyvern from Abaddon.”

  “Bah,” she snorted, but went off to find out how quickly we could get to Rome.

  “Do you need help?” Gabriel asked after I explained the situation to him. His voice was as delicious as ever, even after getting beamed all around the place by assorted satellites. Just the sound of it nestled so close to my ear sent little goose bumps of pleasure up and down my arms.

  “No, I think we’ll be OK. If we can’t get a flight, we’ll get to Lisbon and use the portal place there, although I heard it’s a bit dicey. But I expect we’ll find a flight. It means, however, that I won’t be back in Paris until tomorrow.”

  “One moment,” he said, and I heard muffled voices in the background. A minute later he was back. “Maata will meet you in Rome. She can take a portal from here.”

  I know how little dragons liked to portal—it had something to do with the tenuous quality of portals, since objects were frequently lost during transit—but it wasn’t for that reason alone that I objected. “You’re not pulling a Drake on me, are you?” I asked.

  “A Drake?”

  “Aisling says she can’t step foot out of the house without one of Drake’s bodyguards accompanying her. You haven’t suddenly gone into overprotective mode, have you?” I asked, smiling despite myself. “Because if you have, let me disabuse you right now of the notion that I need protection. I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”

  “I have no doubt of that whatsoever, little bird,” he answered, amusement rich in his voice. “Although I do have to admit that I understand more now what drives Drake into protecting his mate. But it is not a question of you being able to protect yourself. Maata is fluent in Italian, and since you said that neither you nor your twin speaks it well, I thought she might be able to help.”

  I bit back the response that it wouldn’t take much linguistic power to eyeball a spring, saying simply, “That seems like a lot of trouble to go to on Maata’s part, but if she wants a little break from her regular bodyguard duties to hang out with us in Italy, we’d be delighted to have her. Oh, hang on, here’s Cy with the tickets.”

  “I just hope you know what you’re doing,” she said, a little pout ruining her normally sunny expression. “This is the best I could get.”

  I glanced at the flight information and passed it along to Gabriel.

  “I would come to help you myself, but I have a meeting with Bastian scheduled. Drake believes he will be wholly agreeable to giving us access to the blue shard, but I don’t wish to take anything for granted.”

  “And you thought it was for your handsome looks and that satin voice I agreed to be your mate,” I said, “when all along it was your brains.”

  “Indeed,” he said, and I frowned. It wasn’t like him not to respond to a flirtatious comment.

  “Is everything all right there?” I asked. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “I would not keep things from you, mate,” he said with more formality than was the norm. “I hope your trip goes well, and that you’ll be able to return soon to your guest.”

  “My guest?” I asked, worry starting to build inside me. “What guest?”

  “She wishes to have a word with you. Maata will meet you at the airport. Be careful, May. The sea is not necessarily calm in that area of the world.”

  His metaphor didn’t escape me any more than did the true reason he wanted a bodyguard along while we visited land that was traditionally held by the now-ousted Fiat. But the identity of my so-called guest was a mystery to me . . . at least until a familiar happy voice chirped in my ear.

  “Sugar! You didn’t tell me what a delicious hunk of burning love you had hidden away. He’s just too, too yummy, even if he is a dragon. Since you have Magoth as well, I don’t suppose you’d mind sharing, hmm?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  It took the full length of the train ride from Rome to Onano, the town in the north of Italy that was closest to Cyrene’s spring, to get the details out of Maata as to what Sally was doing at the suite Gabriel had taken for us all in a Paris hotel.

  “Before I tell you that, you have to answer me a question,” she said, laughing as we claimed our seats. Cy and I sat on one side of a table between two banks of seats, with Maata across from us.

  “Ooh, food! I’m famished. I’ll get us some lunch,” Cyrene said, catching sight of a sandwich vendor outside the train who was doing a brisk business.

  “You miss the train, and you won’t hear the last of it for decades,” I promised her.

  She rolled her eyes and hurried down the aisle to the exit.

  “What was it you wanted to know?” I asked Maata, one eye on my errant twin as she pounced on the sandwich seller.

  “Did you threaten Sally on the phone?”

  “Threaten?” I cleared my throat and put on the face I used with Magoth. “Why would I threaten her?”

  Maata’s smile changed into a knowing grin. “Because she ran to Gabriel and told him he was making a big mistake, that you were definitely meant to be a demon lord’s consort.”

  I relaxed back into my seat as Cyrene reboarded the train, her arms full of small sandwich packages and bottles of water. “Was that before or after she propositioned him?” I joked.

  “After, as a matter of fact,” she said, then laughed again at the look on my face. “Oh, don’t worry; you’re Gabriel’s mate good and proper. Dragons mate for life, you know. He couldn’t leave you if he wanted to, and believe me, dalliances are the last thing on his mind.”

  “I don’t doubt Gabriel’s fidelity,” I said, looking at the people as they started to blur when the train rolled out of the busy station. I had the worst urge to spill my worries out to Maata. I desperately needed reassurance that I wasn’t losing myself to the dragon heart, that Gabriel wasn’t bound so firmly to me not because I was meant to be his mate, but because of what was carried inside me. Passions faded; the gods knew I’d seen that often enough with Cyrene’s love affairs. Who was to say that the sexual attraction that Gabriel first felt for me was now replaced by his response to the dragon-heart shard?

  “Here we are. Mayling, you can stop scowling; I got you a chicken one since I know you don’t eat mammals. Now, what did I miss? Did you tell Maata about threatening to cut off all of that junior demon lord’s hair and glue it on backwards?”

  Maata choked on the mouthful of water she’d just taken. “Is that what you threatened Sally with?” she asked me.

  “Disregard anything Cyrene says about me,” I said calmly, taking a chicken sandwich. “She’s peeved because she’s going to have to earn back her wings. So to speak.”

  “If you had just thrown your weight around with Neptune, he would have reinstated me instantly!” she grumbled. “Honestly, what is the point of having a twin who is consort to a demon lord and mate to a powerful wyvern if she won’t help out with a few little problems?”

  “A list of the little problems I’ve helped you with could fill a few books,” I answered, giving Maata an encouraging nod. “You were going to tell us what Sally was doing there.”

  “She claimed Magoth told her to go bother you for a bit, saying that you and he could split her apprenticeship. Since she’s done a week with him, it’s evidently now your turn. Once she heard Gabriel tell me to meet you, I had a devil of a time getting out without her following.”

  “Did she say what Magoth was doing?” I asked, chewing slowly on my sandwich as I mulled the situation ove
r. Sally didn’t worry me much—she had little to no powers as an apprentice—but I had been concerned about the lack of information regarding Magoth during the last few days.

  “Not really, no; just that he was still in Paris, working on a dozen or more different plans.”

  “What sort of plans?” I asked, wondering if I should worry or if Magoth’s apparent quiet was a sign he was frustrated by lack of powers.

  She shrugged. “She didn’t say, but Gabriel wasn’t worried, and I don’t think you need to be concerned. Magoth is being watched and hasn’t done anything to merit concern.”

  “Yet,” I said, tapping my fingers on the water bottle.

  “I agree with Maata. I think you’re worrying about nothing. You said yourself he was powerless here,” Cyrene pointed out.

  “He may not be able to wreak the havoc and destruction that he’d like, but that doesn’t mean he’s completely harmless. And he’s inventive. I just hope he doesn’t find some source of power we haven’t thought of.”

  Cyrene happily chatted with Maata about Sally, Magoth, and pretty much any other thought that happened to occur to her. I spent the couple of hours it took to get to Onano alternating between worry about the dragon shard and how I was going to convince Magoth to help me win Chuan Ren’s release from Abaddon.

  We spent the remainder of the daylight examining Cyrene’s spring to evaluate just how tainted it was and what steps she’d have to take in order to give back to the “big mama,” or Mother Earth in plain English.

  By the time we’d helped Cyrene create a plan of action that we hoped would impress Neptune, the sun was setting, and we headed wearily into town to find a hotel and a hot meal.

  “They only had two rooms,” Maata reported, plopping down at the table we’d taken at an outdoor café located on the fringe of a busy town square. “I figured you’d probably want to share a room, but if you’d prefer one to yourself, May—”

  “Not necessary,” I interrupted, gratefully receiving the tall gin and tonic from a handsome waiter with flashing black eyes. “Cyrene and I have roomed together before. Besides, she snores. You’d never get any sleep with her.”

  “I snore!” Cyrene said, mustering an indignant look. “I like that! You could bring down a roof.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Doppelgangers can’t snore. Everyone knows that . . .” My voice trailed to a stop as I watched a man walk across the square. It was fully dark now, and although lights from the various shops and cafés lit up the square, the very center of it had a puddle of shadow that seemed to ripple. Couples strolled around the edges, younger people laughed and joked as they darted in and out of the shops, and dogs barked as they romped after playing children. It was a typical Italian scene, with nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to make my inner warning bells sit up and take notice, and yet, that’s just what they did.

  The man with dark hair pulled back in a long ponytail strode across the square, pausing in the center, where the shadows were the darkest. A woman with hair the color of a shiny penny emerged from an alley to meet him. They spoke for a few seconds; then the two proceeded on to where a small, sleek sports car was parked on a side street.

  “Do you have the car keys?” I asked Maata, my eyes narrowed on the figure of the man as he got into the car.

  “Yes. Do you want them?” She started to rummage in her pockets for them.

  “Stay here,” I ordered Cyrene, snatching up my bag. I dug out a few coins and tossed them on the table, grabbing the keys that Maata had produced.

  “Where are you going?” Cyrene asked, frowning.

  “I don’t know. I see someone who looks familiar, and I really would like to know where he’s going. Stay here. I’ll call you and let you know where I am.”

  “Not on your life!” She grabbed her jacket and purse and followed me, Maata on her heels.

  I gave them both an exasperated look. “This might be dangerous—”

  “Do you have any idea what Gabriel would do if he found out I let you go off on your own?” Maata asked, giving me a stern look.

  I didn’t have time to argue my ability to handle myself. The car was already driving away from us, out into the darkness. I simply bolted for the rental car, calling back, “I’ll drive; you two watch for the blue Alfa Romeo.”

  “You’re a doppelganger—you probably have better night vision than me,” Maata answered as we reached the car. “I’ll drive; you act as navigator.”

  “Smart thinking.” I tossed her the keys and got into the passenger seat.

  “I’ll help!” Cyrene said, and threw herself into the backseat just as Maata gunned the engine and shot off after our target.

  It took my fullest concentration to follow the car as it wound in and out of the twisty streets of town, but at last we left the city behind and headed south-east on a highway.

  “Who is this man you want so badly to follow?” Maata asked in a quiet voice as Cyrene answered a call from one of her concerned sister naiads.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Cyrene was busy retelling our meeting with Neptune and probably wasn’t paying much attention. “I think it’s the same man who followed me into the shadow world at the hotel in Paris.”

  “What?” Maata shrieked.

  The car spun around as she jammed on the brakes, jerking the steering wheel to keep us from going into oncoming traffic. Cyrene cried out as she was bounced around the backseat, ending up on the floor. Thankfully, the cars behind us were at a distance enough to allow them to swerve around us, horns blaring as they made gestures that left us in little doubt as to their opinion of Maata’s driving.

  “What in the name of the seven seas is wrong with you?” Cyrene asked, climbing off the floor. “You could have broken my cell phone! As it is, I probably hung up on Thalassa, and she’s the head of the naiads!”

  Maata’s eyes were not nearly as bright as Gabriel’s, but they glittered dangerously at me now. “No,” she said.

  “We have to,” I said, gesturing toward the distant taillights as they disappeared into the night.

  “We are not going after Baltic.”

  “You don’t know it’s him,” I argued, frustrated at her refusal.

  “Baltic!” Cyrene gasped. “The dead guy?”

  Maata’s eyes glowed in the darkness. “Gabriel would kill me if he knew I helped you confront Baltic.”

  “No, he wouldn’t,” I said, letting her see the resolution in my eyes. “He wouldn’t be happy, but he wouldn’t kill you. He’s not that sort of man.”

  Her lips thinned for a moment. “He wouldn’t physically harm me, no. But his disappointment in me would shame me to death. I cannot do this, May. Do not ask me to.”

  “Fine,” I said, getting out of the car and hurrying over to her side, ignoring the wrath of the car occupants coming up behind us. “Move over. I’ll drive. Gabriel can be as pissed at me as he likes—I’m not letting this guy get away from me again.”

  Maata was going to refuse, but I didn’t give her a chance. She might be several inches taller and several pounds heavier than me, but I simply dropped my shoulder and shoved her over into the passenger seat, quickly getting the car back onto the highway.

  “Cyrene, check the map,” I said, flipping on the overhead light and clamping my foot down on the accelerator in order to catch up. “See if there are any major towns coming up.”

  “Not immediately, but Santa Cristina is about seven kilometers from here.” She looked up, a happy smile on her face. “That’s on a lake that’s fed by my spring. I can pop over and detoxify it quickly, and take care of that item on my list. Oh! I should call Thalassa back.”

  Maata made an almost inaudible intake of breath at Cyrene’s words, but all my senses were on red alert as I wove in and out of traffic, my eyes searching the blackness ahead for a pair of familiar taillights.

  I shot her a quick look, but her face was impassive. “What’s in Santa Cristina?” I asked.

  She hesitated for the count of ten. “
That is where Fiat Blu has his home.”

  “Oh, really? How very interesting.” My mind sorted through the pertinent facts as the car raced through the night. I hoped the police weren’t overly vigilant, since there was no way I was going to stop for anything short of nuclear war. What was Baltic—assuming the mysterious dragon really was him—doing in Fiat’s territory? And if it was him, how on earth had he come back from the dead?

  Before I had long to mull over those questions, the exit to Santa Cristina was upon us . . . with no sign of the sports car.

  “What do we think—should we chance it that he got off at this exit, or keep on the highway and try to catch up with him?” I asked as I swerved onto the shoulder to go around a slow car that insisted on straddling two lanes.

  “Get off, get off!” Cyrene cried as she pulled herself up from where she’d been once again flung onto the floor. “I’m going to be one big bruise at this rate!”

  “I think it’s a coincidence that’s hard to overlook,” Maata said.

  I agreed, and jerked the car off the exit at the last minute, scattering apologies as Cyrene squawked.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “Do you know the way to Fiat’s house?” I asked Maata as we careened around a corner, zipping around the outskirts of the town.

  “I’ve never been there, no. But I know it looks over the lake and has an extensive underground structure.”

  “Where there’s a lake and underground structures, there are tunnels and grottoes,” my twin said, straightening her clothing.

  “I’m inclined to think the back way is easier to get into,” I agreed, pulling up to a stop at a gas station. “Let’s see if we can get an address for Fiat; then we’ll tackle him from the lake side.”

  Fifty euros later, we were on our way around to the far side of the lake, where the man Maata had bribed into talking had said the very wealthy Signor Blu lived. We stopped before we got to the house, leaving the car pulled off into a nearby cul-de-sac, then carefully picked our way through a large house’s exquisitely manicured lawn to reach the lakeside.