Fire Me Up Read Online Free PDF Page B

registration materials, and a printer at the end of the table hummed
to life. She pulled a piece of what looked like parchment from it, sliding it
toward me along with an old-fashioned nib pen.
    "Kind of an odd mixture of high-tech and quasi-medieval,
huh?" I commented, waving at the printed parchment with the pen.
    She just looked pointedly at the paper.
    In the upper corner of the sheet was my name, written in a
beautiful, ornate calligraphic font In the center was drawn the same elaborate
nine-pointed star that the conference workers wore, I looked closer at the pen
and realized that it wasn't a pen at all. It was a lance, the sort diabetics use
to get a drop of blood for testing. "Uh—"
    "You must seal the agreement in blood," the woman said in an
annoyed, put-upon voice. "Failure to do so will result in ejection from the
conference."
    "Heaven forbid," I murmured as I jabbed my thumb with the
lance. "Where do you want it?"
    "In the nonagram." I blinked. She sighed. "A nona-gram is a
nine-pointed star. It is the symbol of studied achievement, which is part of the
motto of the GOD-TAM."
    Without further ado I pressed the bead of blood into the
center of the star. The parchment must have had some magic worked on it, because
the second my blood touched it, I was overtaken by the sensation of silken cords
wrapping around and around me.
    "What—was that—?" I rubbed my arms. Despite the fact that I
could see there was nothing on me other than my clothing, the feeling of the
bonds remained.
    "You are now bound by the covenant of the GOD-TAM," the
registration woman intoned in a bored voice. "Welcome to the conference, and
blessed be. Next!"
    "Oh. Does my demon need to be bound as well?"
    "Demons cannot be bound in such a manner. You are responsible
for its behavior. NEXT!"
    Jim and I passed through the doors into the main conference
area, following a group of men in expensive, well-tailored suits.
    "Mages," Jim said in an undertone, its eyes on the men.
    "Really? How can you tell?"
    "Their shoes. Mages go in for Italian footwear. So do
dragons, but those guys don't smell like dragons."
    I slid a curious glance down to Jim, walking at my side.
"Just what exactly do dragons smell like?"
    It lifted a furry black lip in a sneer. "You ought to know,
you've spent enough time with your nose buried in Drake's—"
    "Jim!" I shrieked.
    "—neck."
    I pinched the thick skin on its back. "Just forget I asked,
OK? Shall we mingle?"
    "Oh, yeah. Are those hors d'oeuvres for everyone? I'm gonna
get me some before I starve to death." Jim shimmied toward a waiter wandering
through the gathering crowd offering a tray of tall champagne flutes and another
with tiny canapes.
    "Save room for dinner!" I called after the demon, then stood
looking around at everyone in their suits and chic outfits, feeling very out of
place, very bumpkin visiting polished town cousins.
    "Hullo. You're a Guardian, too? Is this your first time?"
    I turned at the friendly singsong voice. A tall blond woman
wearing a slinky black dress smiled at me. She looked like a Barbie doll come to
life, a Scandinavian Barbie doll, if her accent was anything to go by. "Yes, to
both questions, although the first one is kind of iffy. I'm Aisling. I'm
actually here looking for a mentor."
    "Really?" She eyed me from crown to toes, walking a circle
around me to get a better look. I wished I had put on my brown power suit. It
might not be a sexy little black dress, but at least T looked professional in
il. "I have been thinking it time to take on an apprentice. We might suit. I am
Moa. I am from Berge, Sweden. You have completed the ritual?"
    "Ritual?" I bit my lip. "I've done a couple of rituals. I
summoned a demon, and later I almost summoned a demon lord—"
    "No." She waved away my paranormal resume with an elegant
scarlet-tipped hand. "The ritual. The test that all apprentices must pass in
order to begin formal training. You have not passed