You Slay Me (13 page)

"No peeing on anything that looks nice," I warned, then chewed my lip a little more as I considered the problem. What was good for Mme. Deauxville's might be good for Drake's house. "I suppose we could sneak around the back of the house and see if I can't find us a way in. Then we'll reconnoiter."

"Reconnoiter, yes, that is a very good plan," Rene said as he tucked his cell phone into his pocket. "I like that. I am very good at the reconnoiter. Where do we commence?"

A couple more gnaws on the old lower lip, and I came to a decision. "Rene, I don't think it's a good idea for you to come inside with us. Even though Drake stole my dragon, and I'm just getting it back, technically it is a crime to break into his house. I wouldn't want you to get into any trouble."

"Fen," Rene said, waving away the possibility of trouble. He tapped his chest, giving me a knowing look as he did so. "I know the way of things here. You do not. And the demon, he is not very bright.
So we commence."

We commenced. I felt bad about Rene, but didn't think I could talk him out of it, and to be honest, I felt more secure with him along. I'd just have to see to it that he didn't get his kindness to me paid back with trouble.

"You get to be the watchdog," I told Jim as we approached one of the three ground-floor doors recessed in the back of the building. The back opened onto a dark, dusty alley that appeared abandoned. I studied the lock on the door for a second, almost smiling at it. I knew this lock; it was even easier to open than the one at Mme. Deauxville's.

"Watchdog? What does that mean?" Jim asked.

"Bark if you see anyone. Or anything suspicious. Or my aquamanile. You know, be a watchdog."

Jim rolled its eyes. The lock clicked open as I worked my credit-card magic upon it. Rene pursed his lips again at the sight of the door opening, but he didn't say anything as I slipped inside.

"Looks like a utility room of some sort," I whispered as Jim and Rene followed. I crept to the opposite door, opening it just a crack as Rene gently closed the outer door. Light from a hallway illuminated a few occasional tables and a couple of green embroidered chairs. From the right, I could hear the faint sound of conversation— a TV, I was willing to bet, coupled with the sound of crockery clinking a comfortable, homey sound. "That's the kitchen down there, to the right," I whispered. "Which way do you think—up or down?"

"Up," Rene said. "There is less chance we will see someone upstairs if the common rooms are on this floor, yes?"

"Works for me," I muttered as we skinnied down the hallway to where a large staircase curved upward, its elegant sweep of dark oak gracing an already stunning hall. "Is that linen paneling? It looks antique—"

"Aisling!" Rene hissed, halfway up the stairs. "Now is not the time to be a tourist."

Reluctantly I stopped myself from admiring the beautiful paneling. "Sorry. Coming."

I started up the stairs as Jim paused to sniff the air. The sound of voices was louder here, as was the smell of grilling meat. "Food!"

"You had your lunch," I said, tugging on its collar. "Come on. If everyone is eating, we can look around without being seen."

We hurried up the carpeted stairs, alert to anyone who might suddenly pop out of a room, but we saw nothing. Well, that's not strictly correct—we saw room after room of gorgeous furnishings, artwork that looked original (and valuable), works of art that should have been in a museum—but people? Not a soul. There was no aquamanile, either.

"Man, I had no idea there was so much money to be had in the dragon business," I said as I followed Rene and Jim into a bedroom decorated with an Oriental theme, all black lacquer and bright blues, greens, and golds. I was positive it was Drake's bedroom, which gave me an odd thrill as I looked around. The room was absolutely breathtaking, but not as breathtaking as trie view seen from the terrace a solid wall of windows overlooked.

"Wow, this is absolutely astounding. What a gorgeous view. What a gorgeous room. What a gorgeous house."

"But it is not finding us your dragon," Rene pointed out.

"True." I kept my eyes firmly away from the huge black-and-gold bed that dominated the room and thought about where the lair would be. "We could look on the floor above, or the ground floor, but call it a hunch, I'm willing to bet that Drake's lair is in the basement. That's where I'd put something I wanted limited access to."

"I agree most strong," Rene said.

"Right. Back downstairs we go."

We slipped out of the bedroom and, after listening for a moment at the top of the stairs, decided the coast was clear. We descended with a minimum of sound and crept back to the side hall. "Where do you think the door to the basement is?" I whispered to Rene.

He pointed to the left. "That door."

I looked at the door. It didn't look any different from the two others. "Why that one?"

"It has the keys."

He was right. There was a key strung on a blue piece of string hanging around the doorknob. I snatched the string off the knob, surprised to find that it turned freely.

"Maybe the key is for something else?" I asked. Rene shrugged. Jim looked bored. Aware of the sounds of habitation in the kitchen, I hurried into die room. "Point one for us," I whispered as I felt around for a light. It clicked on to show us standing on the landing of a narrow flight of stairs that led downward. "Good call, Rene."

He looked pleased. "I told you I would be most helpful."

"I never thought you wouldn't be, but at the first sign of trouble, I want you out of here. Jim and I can take care of ourselves."

"We can?" Jim asked doubtfully. I didn't say anything. What was there to say? I felt just as doubting as the demon sounded, but I was determined to keep Rene from being dragged any further than he already was into the hideous mess my life had become.

Silently, or as silently as we could be considering the wooden stairs cracked and groaned with every step, we made our way to the bottom, where another closed door was set into a stone wall. This one was padlocked shut.

"Voila," Rene said. "That must be his storeroom, yes?"

"I imagine so. You'd think a man who had hundreds of years to learn basic security would be a bit more careful about his priceless objects," I whispered as I used the key on the string to open the padlock. "All those pictures and vases just sitting around upstairs, and just one lock on this door? Uncle Damian would have something to say about that." I set the lock on the floor, carefully opening the door.

. Two things should have become readily apparent to you by now: First, I'm not the brightest bulb in the pack when it comes to obvious things, and second ... well, it's the same as the first.

"Woof," Jim said as a light automatically turned on when the door to the lair swung open. Rene sucked in his breath and muttered something I didn't understand. I clutched the door, blinking at the sight before us. It was a treasure trove, pure and simple. There was gold everywhere—real gold, not fake gold. Gold plates, gold goblets, gold statues . . . Drake's lair was a room filled with display cases and ornate wooden cabinets, all housing objects of gold. "Have you ever seen anything like this?" I whispered, walking slowly into the room.

"Arf."

"Never," Rene breathed, following me. I stood in the middle of the narrow, low-ceilinged room, my mouth hanging open as I looked from case to case.

"I can't even begin to calculate what it's all worth.... Hey, there's my dragon!"

"Bow wow."

I hurried over to the wooden cabinet that faced the door. Each one was individually lit within, the soft light carefully focused to highlight the objects nestled on the shelves. On the top shelf of the cabinet in front of me two objects sat on black velvet—one was my dragon aquamanile; the other was a gold goblet similarly decorated with a dragon coiled around the stem.

"Bark, bark," Jim said behind me.

"Jim, what's your problem?" I asked as I reached out to open the glass-fronted door.

"I think perhaps I am the problem," a smooth, silky, extremely sexy voice said behind us.

"Oh, crap," I swore, letting my hand drop.

"You are in France. The correct word is
merde,"
Rene corrected gently.

"Sorry.
Merde."
I turned to face Drake, trying to summon an innocent smile, not that it would do me any good. It didn't. The expression on his face left me wishing I'd taken my chances with the Venediger.

8

"Ah, Drake. Long time no see. We were ... uh... in the neighborhood and thought we'd stop by and see how you were."

"Did you? How very generous of you. And your companions are?"

I waved my hand toward Rene. "This is Rene, my taxi driver. He doesn't know anything about what's going on."

"Doesn't he?" Drake turned his attention on Rene, eyeing him carefully for a moment before lifting his hand. A flash of blue like a concentrated ball of lightning shot from him to Rene, leaving me with big black spots bobbing before my eyes.

"What have you done to him?" I yelled as soon as the spots disappeared enough for me to see. I ran over to where Rene was slumped unconscious against one of the cases. "My god, you've killed him!"

"How bloodthirsty you are. I had no idea your lovely exterior hid such a cruel nature."

I sent him a glare that should have burned the hair right off his head. "I'm not the one who just killed an innocent man! You are going to pay for this, Drake. So help me, you are going to pay!"

Drake sighed and shook his head in mock sorrow. "Such a suspicious mind you have. I did not kill him. I merely sent him to sleep for a while. The fewer witnesses to what is about to happen, the better."

Relief filled me even as I recognized just how ominous his words were. I made sure that Rene was just out, and when I was satisfied that Drake told the truth about zapping him, moved so I had my back to the case holding the dragons. Drake glanced toward Jim.

"That's Jim."

"Her demon," Jim said, strolling over to Drake. "But if you're as powerful as you look, I can be
yours
instead."

'Traitor," I whispered, taking a step backwards. Although the main part of my brain, the functioning part, knew I was caught and how, the little daredevil section of my brain said that if I could just grab the aquamanile, I could run for it. True, the odds weren't in my favor, but there was still a chance I might be able to get by Drake if I could get Jim to distract him by attacking.

OK, it was a
very
small chance. But I didn't have much choice, now, did I?

I took another step back, my fingers brushing against the brass handle on the front of the case. Drake was giving Jim a look that had the demon backing away as it mumbled, "It was just a suggestion. Sheesh."

"Would it surprise you to know that I've been expecting you?" Drake asked, leaning back against the door, his arms crossed over his chest. "The police were here earlier, asking many questions about you and my alleged visit to Mme. Deauville's apartment. I, as an upstanding businessman, naturally expressed horror and surprise at accusations such as you have evidently leveled against me. The police seemed very satisfied of my innocence when they left, but somehow, I knew you would pay me a visit.

The memory of my highly detailed, erotic-beyond-my-wildest-dreams fantasy about him the night before was potent enough to make me shiver at odd moments during the day, but seeing him in the flesh took my breath away. I used a few moments to admire the hunter-green silk shirt he wore (the color matched his eyes perfectly) and the marvelous way it caressed the muscles of his arms and chest, as well as the tight fit of his black leather pants. He really was gorgeous, enough that my tongue cleaved to the roof of my mouth for a moment. I engaged in a little decleaving while swallowing hard a couple of times, my fingers busy as they opened the case behind me, quickly closing over the cool metal shape of a dragon.

"Were you? How prescient of you. Would it surprise you to know that I've got my aquamanile?" I crowed triumphantly as I whipped the gold object around in front of me. I pointed at Drake and used my best demon-ordering voice to say, "Effrijim, I command thee by thy lord Amaymon to attack him!"

Jim sat down. "You have
got
to be kidding."

Drake smiled, amusement clearly visible in his eyes. I wanted to scream. Why did nothing ever go right in my life?

I marched over to Jim and shook the aquamanile at him. "You are supposed to be my demon, mine to order, mine to give commands. I gave you an order. I'm in a desperate situation here. Drake is likely to kill me if you don't help me escape. If I die, no one is going to buy you hamburgers anymore.
Now
are we on the same wavelength?"

Jim made a pouty face. "He's not going to kill you— you're his mate. Dragons mate for life; they can't kill their mate or their own life ends."

I looked at Drake. He was still smiling. "Is that true?"

He looked me over carefully, his eyes lingering on my breasts. My mind went off on a little excursion remembering what it felt like to have his mouth on my flesh. I smoothed down the taupe linen tunic while I reminded myself that what had passed between us had been a dream, not real... even if the nightgown
had
been.

"You claim you aren't my mate."

"No, I meant that if I were—and I'm not saying I am—but if I were, is it true you can't kill me without corking off, too?"

The amusement in his eyes turned to outright laughter. "The demon does not lie."

"Whew," I said, breathing a huge sigh of relief. "That's nice to know. Hoo! I was worried there for a minute that you were going to get a bit testy over me having my aquamanile back, but I don't have anything to worry about if you can't hurt me—"

"I didn't say I couldn't hurt you—I said I couldn't kill my mate. As far as I'm aware, you have not agreed that you are my mate; therefore, were I to take exception to the fact that you have broken into my house with the intention to rob me, I could do so without any repercussions."