You Slay Me (26 page)

"A promise," I whispered against his lips.

The music came to a reluctant stop as I twirled one last twirl around the leg he forced through mine; then I backed away. I wasn't entirely sure that I could break off a dream that he had initiated, but I wasn't about to stay in his little nocturnal fantasy while he conducted an erotic third degree.

"Good night, Drake. Thank you for the dance. And the slinky dress. Maybe another time we can do the rumba?"

'This isn't over, Aisling. You're a fool if you think it is."

You're crazy if you think I didn't notice that not once did he deny doing anything wrong. Part of me wanted to stay and argue it out with him, to try to reason with him, to make him admit what he'd done, and wring a promise from him that he'd turn himself in to the police; the other part was sounding warning bells and counseling me to run like crazy from him.

Instead I drifted backwards into the shadows, leaving him standing by himself in the light, a mysterious figure in black, his face haunted, his eyes dark with shadows.

I would
not
fall in love with a murderer. No matter how much he wrung my heart.

I woke with that resolution echoing in my head. The clock at the side of the bed showed it was only two in the morning. I beat up the pillow until it was somewhat comfortable, and I lay awake for a long time thinking over what I had to do. An hour into my contemplation, Perdita crept into the room with a cone of cedar-scented incense and conducted the ritual cleansing by the light of the moon. It was a strangely unsettling experience, one that left me wondering just how right things were in my head that I suspected the two women who were risking their own safety by protecting me.

"All right, you and I are going to have a talk."

"Goody gumdrops. I'm slobbering at the thought."

I pulled out a fresh drool bib that Ophelia had kindly purchased for me the day before, and tied it around Jim's thick neck. We had done a quick walkies—quick because I was nervous about being on the streets where someone might recognize me, and yet hesitant to have either Ophelia or Perdita take the demon out for me since they might find out it was a demon—and had our breakfast with the sisters. Ophelia offered to run any of my errands as she was out doing her own, but I couldn't think of anything I needed until after she'd left.

She also asked that I wait to conduct my demon-summoning ritual until after she returned, so she could watch. I gnashed my teeth a bit at the delay, wanting to get the demon's interrogation done so I could turn the information over to the police as soon as possible, but there wasn't much I could do. She and Perdita were taking a big risk by putting me up; delaying the summoning of Bafamal for a few hours was the least I could do in return.

"I was being sarcastic rather than literal," Jim said snappishly as I tied on the drool bib.

I wiped up its moist flews with the dirty bib. "You don't have something caught in your teeth, do you? I heard that tooth problems can make a dog drool excessively. Maybe I should take you to a vet?"

"You could brush my teeth instead. A good owner brushes her dog's teeth. Cecile says Amelie brushes her teeth for her every night. She has a special dog toothbrush and everything. Some people
care
for their pets."

I sat in the puddle of sunlight that was warming the edge of the bed. "Stop trying to distract me. You are a demon,
not
a pet. I want to talk to you, and I command you to answer my questions. Honestly."

Jim muttered something under its breath and looked away.

"What powers does a Guardian have other than taking care of portals and summoning and releasing demons?"

"Whatever powers she needs."

"That's no answer," I said with a frown.

Jim pouted. "It's the truth, and that's what you asked for."

Why couldn't anyone in this city except Amelie offer information when I asked questions? I sighed and tried again. "Give me a specific list of powers a Guardian has other than the portal and demon stuff."

"She can draw wards and curses, can conduct mind pushes on mortals, depending on the level of her training, and can recognize Otherworld entities no matter what their disguises."

'That didn't hurt to much, did it?" I asked as I thought over Jim's list. It muttered that it hurt a lot. "Let's start at the top, ward and curses, what are those?"

"Wards are magic in symbol form. Most, but not all, are used for protection. Curses are anti-wards, drawn the same, but with the intention of doing an action to someone else rather than the drawer. Happy now?"

"Nigh on ecstatic. What's a mind push?"

Jim sighed a throaty sigh. "Remind me to make my next demon lord someone who knows his job. A mind push is just what it sounds like—you want someone to do something, you give them a little mind push to make them do it."

"Oh. Something psychiclike? ESP and all that?"

''Not the spoon-bending kind. It's just you reaching out with your mind and convincing the other person they really want to do what it is you want them to do. Mind push, get it?"

"Got it. Kind of. Now this recognizing beasties and such, you mean like demons?"

Jim nodded and started licking its shoulder.

I frowned, going back over everyone I'd met since I summoned up Jim. "If that's so common, why is it that both wyverns recognized that you were a demon, and yet Amelie didn't until I told her? And for that matter, Ophelia and Perdita don't know what you really are, either."

"Who said it was common? Only those mortals who have the ability to control the dark powers can recognize beings who originate in the Otherworld. Same goes with those beings themselves, like the dragons."

"Ah. So Amelie as a healer and O and P as Wiccans can't see you as you really are?"

"Yes. Are you done with the questions? Because it's past time for my spit bath, and it's going to take me at least half an hour to take care of my package."

I "Ew, ew, ew!"ed my way out of the room and left him to his grooming. I spent a few minutes making up a list of things I'd need for the demon summoning in between watching Perdita as she puttered around on a good-size balcony. Most of the space was taken up by flower boxes and containers filled with various plants—herbs, she'd told me earlier as she walked by with a watering can.

"Finished already?" she asked as she came in with a handful of something green and leafy.

I nodded. "I think I'm going to have to go out. I need a couple of books that I know Amelie has, as well as dead man's ash."

"You're welcome to check our library," Perdita said as she rubbed a stalk of plant between her hands. "I'm sure I saw some dead man's ash in the workroom."

"Really?" That was a surprise. I'd thought I read somewhere that dead man's ash was only used in summoning ghosts and demons. "Thanks, I'll go look... er... in a few minutes." After Jim was done with its groin washing.

Perdita set her bruised leaves in a wooden bowl. "Dill," she explained as I watched her crush them with a pestle.

"Something for lunch?" I asked.

She frowned. "No, dill is a great protector against demons. I thought that as you were bringing one into the house, I would use it to protect every room but the workroom, just in case."

"Er..." Dill was demon's bane? I thought briefly of Jim. How on earth was I going to explain my dog's sudden inability to leave my bedroom? "How exactly does the dill protect you from a demon?"

"Demons hate it," she answered, still grinding away with the pestle. "They can't stand to be in the same room with it."

The door to my bedroom, which I'd left cracked so Jim wouldn't have to get the doorknob all slobbery, opened and my demon on four legs strolled into the room, making a beeline to me as it dropped its leash at my feet.

I watched closely for a moment, but Jim didn't seem to be disturbed by the dill Perdita was setting around the apartment in little pots. In fact, I doubt if it even noticed. So much for protection.

"I'll just go see if you have any dead man's ash, then be out of your hair for a little bit."

Perdita made polite noises about not minding me underfoot. I shot Jim a warning look to behave himself, and went back into my sunny bedroom, stopping in front of a glass-fronted bookcase. There were a lot of Wiccan books, a couple of Herbal s, books on magick, books on the origins of witchcraft, and the like. "Nothing I can use," I said to Jim as it followed me back into the room. "Which doesn't surprise me because ... Hmmm."

"It doesn't surprise you why?" Jim asked, sharking the bed to rub itself along the edge of the mattress. Jim, I had discovered, loved to have its back scratched.

"Because they don't have anything to do with the dark arts. Is this what I think it is?" I pulled out a tiny volume, about the size of my palm, that had been tucked behind a larger book. "The
Steganographia.
Well, I'll be."

"Oh, that. Yeah, I saw that yesterday," Jim said, sounding bored as it continued sharking the bed. "I thought you preferred the
Liber Juratus.
Isn't that what you used to call me?"

"Yes," I said slowly, flipping through the book. "But it's odd that Wiccans should have a book of this sort."

"Not if they had anything to do with the Venediger," Jim said, still rubbing itself along the bed. "Think you could get me a brush? I want to look my best if we're going to see Cecile."

"The Venediger..." I'd almost forgotten that Perdita worked for him. "Of course, if she worked for him, she must have had some skills with the dark powers, don't you think? Hence the
Steganographia."

"What I think is that I need brushing," Jim said pointedly. '

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I suppose you do. You're looking a bit ratty." I slid the book back into its spot and make a quick check of the shelving holding the various pots of herbs and such. No dead man's ash.

"Come on," I said, snapping on Jim's leash and grabbing my purse. "Let's make this fast. The least amount of . time I have to spend out on the streets, the happier I'll be."

"Call Rene," Jim suggested.

I was about to say I wouldn't bother Rene for something so trivial, but rethought my strategy. With Rene serving as my driver, he'd keep his eye peeled for the police ... that was assuming he'd want to drive a fugitive around Paris while she did her shopping. "Maybe I shouldn't get him involved."

"Are you kidding? He'd love it," Jim said softly as I opened the door. I signaled for it to be quiet, then pulled Rene's card out, explaining quickly to Perdita that I was going to use a friend to drive me around. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as I dialed the number, wondering just how deep in the Venediger's business she had become. A Wiccan who had a well-used copy of the
Steganographia
was definitely an oxymoron.

Kind of like a Guardian who was also a demon lord.

Fifteen minutes later Jim and I descended the stairs, peering up and down the street for signs the apartment was being watched before dashing into Rene's waiting taxi.

"Bonjour,"
I said breathlessly, grunting when Jim jumped into the taxi and landed on me. "Get off me!"

"Sorry."

Rene twisted around in his seat and glared at me. "Before we go, I must first lecture you."

"Um—"

"You said on the phone you did not wish to derange me if I believed those stories in the paper about you. Me, I am offended you would think that!"

I fluttered a hand at the window. "Rene, I'm sorry, the last thing I want to do is offend you, but I wanted to give you an out if you were uncomfortable with the thought of driving around someone who is wanted by the police."

Rene snorted. "You do not have faith in me, eh?"

"I have a lot of faith, I just don't want you getting involved in something that you'll regret."

He made a rude gesture out the window at the person behind us who was yelling at him, turning to face the front.
"Quand les poules auront des dents."

"Huh?"

He put his foot on the gas. I clutched Jim as we were thrown backwards. "It means when female chickens have teeth. It is your phrase for today, but it also expresses what I think of your so foolish worry."

Evidently I was forgiven if he was giving me another phrase to wield during my time in France. I smiled and, while we drove to the Latin Quarter, gave him the latest on what had been happening since I last saw him.

"It is good you called me. I will watch with eyes most vigilant to be sure the police do not see you," Rene told me as I dragged an unwilling Jim out of a pet shop we'd stopped at to get a brush. Jim decided any store that had big open bins of dog cookies was more or less heaven, and had to be forcibly convinced to vacate the premises. "We will serve the reconnaissance on the Rue Ebullitions sur les Fesses de Diable. If we see the police,
hein,
we will leave. If not, I will drop you off and park down the street, yes?"

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. And that's exactly what we did—Rene drove up and down Amelie's street a couple of time, but we didn't see any police cars, or strange men across from her shop who appeared to be reading newspapers, or women stopped in front fussing with a baby carriage, or any of the other many ruses cops take when on stakeout. There were a lot of people on the street, but none of them were loitering. It was nearing midday, and people were hurrying along to the shops or for an early lunch. Rene let me out about a block away, following slowly behind as I strolled up and down the street, watching for anyone who might be interested in me.

On my third stroll past Amelie's shop, he gave me the all-clear symbol and zoomed off to our rendezvous place a couple of blocks away.

"Operation Amelie is go," I told Jim quietly as I turned on my heel and headed back for Le Grimoire Toxique. As I approached the door to the shop I did a final scan of the street, but no one was paying the least amount of attention to us. "Whew. Looks like for once luck is with us."

I pushed the door open and walked right into Inspector Proust.

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