“Good afternoon, Effrijim,” Anastasia said, smiling vaguely. I was pleased to see that her weirdo apprentice wasn’t around. “Are you ready to fly to Paris?”
“Been ready all day,” I said, accompanying her to the door. She said good-bye to Suzanne, who waved at me (I gave her hand a quick lick good-bye), and waited for me to go first. “I’m glad to see your ubercreepy assistant isn’t here. She really freaks me out, you know? I think she has something against demons in incredibly handsome doggy form . . . Oh, hi, Butterball.”
“My name is Buttercup!” The woman who stood waiting at the limo that Drake had arranged for us (against his will, but Aisling has him wrapped all around her fingers) narrowed her beady little eyes at me. “Can we not just banish the demon, Mistress?”
I snickered, about to make a comment about BDSM, but Anastasia’s gentle, elderly voice stopped me. She was a nice old lady, so I didn’t feel right about shocking her with references to stuff like bondage.
“Aisling has assured me that Effrijim will be on its very best behavior, and I’m quite sure that it will be so,” she said, giving me a kind of vague smile as she got into the limo.
“Absotively,” I agreed, shouldering the buttery one aside so I could sit next to Anastasia. “Hey, do you mind if we stop at a McDonald’s on the way to the airport? I didn’t have much lunch and I’m famished.”
“But Mistress—” Buttercup started to protest, but it did no good. I flashed her a charming grin before settling back in the seat.
“No, my dear. I know the demon offends you, but consider this a good learning experience. Aisling claims it is harmless, and after meeting it, I am in complete agreement.” She flashed a smile my way. “Effrijim is too much of a gentleman to cause trouble, I’m quite sure.”
I straightened up a little, pleased by the gentleman comment. “Damn straight. Although ya know, you can just call me Jim rather than Effrijim. I really don’t use it much ’cause it’s kinda sissy sounding, don’t you think?”
“Not at all. I think it’s quite distinguished. It suits you,” she said nicely. I rubbed my face on her just because she didn’t think the name was awful (it is, but she didn’t admit that, which wins beaucoup brownie points in my book). “I must admit that I’m a bit curious as to why you chose to adopt the form of a dog when you could have appeared in human form.”
“Don’t get me started on human form,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s awful, just awful. When May—she’s the silver wyvern’s mate and a really nice chick even if she is a doppelganger—when May made me take up human form a few months ago, everyone laughed at me. I don’t think I’ll ever get over the trauma of that experience.”
“How very odd,” Anastasia said, looking me over. “I can’t imagine preferring a canine form over that of a human, but I’m sure you have your reasons.”
Buttercup looked sour and mean at the same time, but she kept her piehole shut for the trip to the airport. Until the plane took off, that is.
“Mistress?” I was curled up on a love seat that sat along one side of the jet when Buttercup unsnapped herself from a big comfy chair and moved forward to where Anastasia was sitting with a book. “Are you all right? Mistress?”
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked, hitting pause on the DVD I was watching. I slid off the seat and wandered forward, wondering if the old lady was scared of flying or something. I would reassure her that Drake’s pilot was really good, and there was nothing to worry about over a quick trip to Paris.
“Mistress?”
“I think . . . Oh dear, I don’t feel well. Don’t feel well at all,” Anastasia said groggily. “I can’t seem to keep . . . eyes . . .”
“You’re having some sort of an attack,” Buttercup said briskly, shaking the old lady by the shoulders. “We will get you to a doctor immediately, but Mistress, the demon! If you are unable to command it, it will do who knows what heinous acts!”
“Hey!” I said, allowing a little blop of slobber to hit her shoe nearest me. “I don’t do heinous! Not when I’m on vacation, anyway!”
“Mistress, you must make an effort!” Buttercup demanded.
Anastasia’s eyes fluttered open, the faded blue of them cognizant but obviously sedated. A horrible, nasty suspicion filled me at the sight of her dilated pupils. “The demon . . . You must take charge.”
“Now, wait a sec,” I said, shoving my head in between them to try to sniff at Anastasia’s breath. It looked to me like she’d been slipped a mickey. “No one needs to take charge of me. I’m a sixth-class demon. I’m not really bad. Besides, Aisling would skin me if she found out I did anything bad—”
“I am yours to command, Mistress,” Buttercup said, grabbing me by the collar and hauling me back. “Tell me what you want.”
“No, listen to me—” I started to say, but the old lady’s eyes rolled back in her head as she said softly, “I grant you the authority given to me.”
I stared in horror first at her, then at Buttercup as she straightened up, a victorious smile on her face.
“You drugged her!” I gasped, shocked to my toenails.
“You’ll have a hard time proving that where you’re going,” she said, then waved her hands around in a hokey manner and said quickly, “Effrijim, I command you in the name of my mistress, in the name of your Guardian, and in the name of all that is good and right in the world. I banish your unclean being to the Akasha, where you belong!”
“Noooo!” I wailed halfway through her speech, but it did no good. One second I was standing next to a comatose old lady who thought I was distinguished, and the next I was next to a rocky outcropping that jutted up out of a sepia-toned landscape filled with shadows, horror, and endless torment.
Two
“WELCOME to the Akasha. Is this your first time here?” a chirpy voice asked. “Would you like some introductory literature?”
I leaped to my feet and realized right off the bat that something truly horrendous had happened.
“Argh!” I yelled, lifting up my arms and staring with horrified shock at five long fingers at the end of each of the two arms. “I’m in human form again!”
“You certainly are,” the perky voice said, a tinge of disapproval sounding as it added, “And you seem to have misplaced your clothes—by the love of the saints! Don’t do that again!”
I straightened from where I had bent double to look at my feet, turning around to face the person to whom the voice belonged.
A little woman stood in front of me, one hand clapped over her eyes.
“Fires of Abaddon! I got sent to the midget section of the Akasha? I’m in human form in the midget section?”
An irritated look crossed the woman’s face as she lowered her hand. “That term is offensive, and shows archaic and ignorant thinking. We prefer the term little people, not that there is a little-person section of the Akasha.” She took a deep breath, then slapped another smile on her face, but this one looked awfully brittle. “So long as you promise never to bend over again when I am behind you, I am willing to overlook the fact that you are without clothing. Let’s see, where was I? Oh, yes, here is a pamphlet that details the Akasha, including a brief history, notable members, and what you can expect over the centuries. Since you look confused, I’ll give you a brief overview of the situation: The Akashic Plain, as it is more formally known, is what mortal beings think of as limbo, although in reality it’s much more than that. Beings of both light and dark natures are banished here for eternal punishment without any hope of escape or reprieve.”
I took the pamphlet she shoved at me. It was illustrated with faces of various beings in perpetual torment.
“The Akasha is governed by the Hashmallim, who are kind of a form of Otherworld police, although they are not bound by any rules except those of the Court of Divine Blood. Are you familiar with the Court?”