I pointed at the wall. It turned its back to me so I could get into the nightgown Perdita had lent me. "You are not going to bet on me. Or against me. No betting whatsoever. Got that?"
Jim huffed and settled down for the night. "You sure do know how to take all the fun out of life. Bet you even made Drake use a condom."
I sighed to myself and added STDs to my list of things to discuss with Drake at a later date.
Despite the events of the day, I had trouble getting to sleep, finally drifting off around three in the morning. I half expected that Drake would come and seduce me in a dream, but he didn't. I woke once, my body jerking with the remnants of a non-dragon dream, then relaxed into the solid, comforting heat at my back. Drake's scent teased my nose. An arm lay heavy over my stomach; hard, muscled thighs spooned tightly behind mine. The faintest breath of air ruffled the hair at my neck. I drifted deeper into sleep, not sure whether this was yet another type of dream, or just a fantasy my mind had arranged to lull me into security.
I awoke alone to find that sometime during the night Ophelia had been kidnapped.
"How could I have been so wrong?" I asked Jim as I paced down the length of the apartment. "How could I have been so stupid? Ophelia wasn't guilty of anything more than being a bit shallow and trying to protect Perdita. How could I think she was guilty of murder? Triple murder?"
"You had me convinced," Jim said. "It's always the sweet, innocent ones that you have to watch out for."
"Yeah, well, because of my stupidity, that sweet, innocent one is in the clutches of some evil person. You're sure it was Bafamal you smelled in her room?"
"Absolutley. Baffie and I go way back. He was there, all right."
"Drat it all. There goes my whole big plan. How can I prove she was guilty of the murders if she's been kidnapped?"
Jim got to its feet and padded over to the bowl of water I had set down for it earlier. "You know, you never did explain to me exactly when you switched from thinking Drake was the killer to believing he was innocent."
"My conversation with Bafamal had a lot to do with that. So did something Ophelia said," I answered absently, looking out the window at a rainy June Paris morning.
"What was that?"
"She told me Perdita was Drake's girlfriend."
Jim raised its eyebrows. "And you didn't believe her? Honey, we need to have a little talk about dragons and their sexual drive."
"Don't be stupid," I said, watching the rain run down the window. "I know Drake's had girlfriends before, but I happen to know Perdita wasn't one of them."
"Really?" Jim tipped its head. "How do you know?"
"The night I first met her she made a comment about dragons being different sexually. They're not. She'd have known that if she had slept with Drake."
"So, that old saying about being hung like a dragon isn't true?" Jim asked with a leering lilt to its voice.
I turned around to glare at it. "I didn't say that. I'm just saying that there was nothing unusual in the groinal region. Nothing other than an ... er... abundance."
Jim hooted. I ignored it as I stood indecisively in the middle of the living room. "Who would want to kidnap Ophelia? And why? And what am I going to do about getting her back?"
"Who says saving her is your responsibility? Last time I looked, you weren't the Lone Ranger, and I'm sure as shootin' no Tonto, even if I am the extremely cool sidekick type."
"I put her in this position. I have to help her," I said obstinately.
"Call the cops."
"I can't! Even if I had somewhere else to stay, my fingerprints are all over this apartment. They'd lift one print, figure out it belonged to me, and blame me for her kidnapping. Besides, I don't think this is an ordinary kidnapping. Bafamal was in her room—that means it has to be someone connected with the Otherworld who used the demon to nab her."
"Too bad you can't ask Baffle himself, but he's probably still in the power of whoever summoned him."
"I suppose it would be worth a try to summon it, although I don't have any hope that I could. It would be incredibly stupid of whoever was using Bafamal to release it so it could be questioned." I paced the length of the apartment, my mind back to being a hyper hamster on a wheel as it formulated and discarded various ways to find Ophelia. "I could hire a private detective.. .. No, I don't know any, and don't have enough money. Maybe I could offer to pay Fiat's men? You said they were good trackers. Maybe they could follow her trail—"
"You'd have to have a whoooole lot of treasure to get them to do that."
"Poop!" I kicked at the lovely antique armchair as I passed it. "OK, how about this—I get Drake to find her for me. He's smart, he's got lots of contacts in Paris, and I just bet you he's likely to know all the spots someone might have hidden Ophelia."
"He's also the one you've issued a formal challenge to, which means no contact until the challenge begins."
"Is that a real rule, or are you just trying to annoy me?" I asked as I passed Jim.
"Would I do that?"
"In a heartbeat, not that you have one. All right then ... mmm ... what if you track her scent—"
"I'm not a bloodhound!" Jim protested.
"You're a dog. You can follow a trail, can't you?"
It gave me a look of profound censure. "In Paris? City of a million smells? No."
I thought for a moment. "What if I summon up another demon? Couldn't I order it to find her for me?"
"Not if she's been taken by another demon, no. I told you, you need to learn the rules. We can't rat on each other that way. It's a brotherhood thing between the demon lords. Only a demon that was unclaimed—not part of a demon lord's legions—could squeal on another demon, and the only demons that aren't in a legion are like I was before you summoned me: cast out and powerless."
I refused to give up. Guilt lay heavily on me. I had drawn Ophelia into the situation; it was because of me that she had been snatched.
Jim watched me pace for a while, then finally said in a tone heavy with disgust, "You mortals, always doing things the hard way. I shouldn't help you, I just know I'm going to lose my union card over this, but have you considered that nestled up against your perky breasts is one of the most powerful lodestones known in all the ages of man?"
My hand went to my breast. "The Eye? What about it? Amelie said it couldn't be used without the other two Tools."
Jim put its martyr face on. "She said it couldn't be used by itself to draw the power of Bael. It does have power of its own, though. Surely you've felt it."
I touched the stone through the gauze dress and material of my bra. It's true that I had noticed a slight warmth connected with the stone, but I assumed it was just my body heat warming it. I realized now that the pleasant feeling had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the energy of the lodestone itself. "Uh ... sure I have. Of course. What do you take me for, an idiot? Don't answer that, just go on. What can the stone do?"
"You're the Guardian—you should know." I made a snipping gesture with my fingers. Jim got the mime and hurried on with a more helpful answer. "What is the stone famous for?"
I thought. "It's one of the Tools of Bael."
"And what do those do?"
"Aside from causing the destruction of the world as we know it when the demon lords take over?" Jim nodded. 'Tap into Bael's power."
"Right. And who is the one being who can tell you what Bafamal was ordered to do with Ophelia?"
I blinked. "Um..."
"His demon lord! A demon can't tattle on another demon because they are both servants, but a demon lord is not bound by that rule. Honestly, it's like talking to a bowl of pudding. Let's make an effort here, Aisling. I can't be helping you out all the time—I have more important things to do."
"Like lick your genitals?"
"Yes."
"Can we get back to the point of this catechism, assuming there is one?"
"Where was I? Oh, yeah, the answer was Ashtaroth. So, given those two facts, you get..." Jim waved a paw in an expectant gesture.
I gnawed my lip. "Mmm ... I don't see the connection. Ashtaroth is Bafamal's lord, but the Eye draws on the power of Bael."
Jim sighed. "Who's the first prince of Abaddon? Who's the primary spirit? Who's the big daddy of the Otherworld?"
It took a while, but I finally got it. "Bael is. So you're saying I can use the stone to summon Bael and use him to force the truth from Ashtaroth?"
"Give the girl a banana!"
I sat down with a thump. "There's just one problem with that idea."
Jim cocked its ears. "Really? I thought it was pretty foolproof, myself. What's the prob?"
I started laughing. I couldn't help it, the very thought of what Jim was suggesting was ludicrous. "You want me, the person who summoned up the only demon who'd been kicked out of Hell, to conjure up the most powerful demon lord around, the one so powerful, he plans on overtaking the mortal world, and ask him nicely if he will find out for me what another lord's demon has done with Ophelia?"
Jim made a face. "When you put it like that, I guess it is asking for trouble."
I sighed and stood up, heading for the phone, punching in the now-familiar numbers. "Unfortunately, it's also the only choice I have. Hi, Rene, it's Aisling. Are you up for a little excitement tonight? I have a feeling I'm going to need a bodyguard, and since you offered when you brought me home yesterday, I'd like to take you up if you're still willing."
"But yes, of course! I will be happy to guard you. I am very dangerous, you know? No one messes with me. They used to call me the Rambo before I was married. When do you want me?"
I put my hand over the mouthpiece. "What time will the moon be at its zenith?"
Jim flopped over on its back. "What do I look like,
The Old Demon's Almanac'}
How about a tummy rub?"
"The next demon I summon is going to be falling over itself to be helpful to me," I warned, uncovering the phone. "Rene? How about eleven at the Jardin du Luxembourg, south entrance? I might need you for several hours. Is that going to be OK?"
"Oui.
Eh ... what is it we're going to do?"
"Oh, nothing much. Just challenge a wyvern, summon a demon lord, and figure out who the murderer is. Bring your gun," I said pithily, and hung up.
"So it's going to be another one of those plans, is it?" Jim asked. "A nonspecific, winging it, seat-of-the-pants sort of plan? The kind with guns?"
"If you're not part of the solution, you're the problem," I told it, heading for my bedroom.
"What are you going to do?" Jim asked as it followed me.
"Read. Keep quiet unless you have any demonic insights to where Ophelia has been taken."
I plucked the copy of the
Steganographia
from the bookcase and sat down to bone up on demon lore.
Four hours later I threw the book onto the bed in disgust.
"Don't tell me—the butler did it and you had money riding on the seductive neighbor?"
I sighed and gathered up my sandals, walking over to the wardrobe to examine my scanty belongings with an eye to what was best suited to the evening's activities. "I wish it was that easy. I read all the sections pertinent to demons, and I just don't understand how a demon I summoned could lie when I ordered it to answer my questions honestly."
"That's because it's impossible," Jim said, standing up and shaking, a flurry of dog hair floating down to the floor. I made a mental promise to tidy up the room later. "I can't lie to you unless you order me to do so."
I paused in the act of slipping into my now-clean linen pantsuit. It was the most dignified outfit I had. "Are you sure there's no way? No circumstance that would allow you to lie? Because Bafamal was lying when he said Drake murdered everyone, I know he was. I couldn't have—" I waved my hand around vaguely. "—with Drake if he was a murderer. I would have felt that sort of evilness in him, wouldn't I?"
"You mean while you were busy playing ride the dragon?"
"What?"
"You know, hide the forked tongue? Hoard the treasure? Heh heh heh."
I shook a sandal at him. "You need your brain washed out with soap. I'm serious. I'm too new to all this Guardian stuff. Sometimes I don't think I have a very good grasp on it all."
"Sometimes?"
Jim hooted. "Sometimes like maybe mind-pushing Inspector Proust into la-la land?"
"I called his office while you were AWOL. Whoever answered the phone said he was OK, so the mind-push thingy must have worn off pretty quickly."
"How about walking into a rival dragon's lair with a powerful lodestone that any dragon worth his scales would kill to get his hands on stuffed down your bra? Or maybe summoning up a demon that lies was an example of you having a grasp?"
"There are times when I don't like you," I said stiffly. "Answer my question—would I or wouldn't I know if Drake had killed those people?"
Jim shrugged. "That depends on how tightly bound you two are."
"We're not bound at all. A little fling composed of... of... unadulterated lust is not binding in any way, shape, or form." Jim muttered something as I buttoned up the tunic and ran a comb through my hair. "I just have to assume the evidence is false. Bafamal lied."
Jim shook its head. "If you asked me a question, I could evade the truth a bit, but not outright lie."
I glanced at the clock as I stepped into my sandals, grabbing my purse before hurrying out of the room. "I don't understand.... Oh, come on, let's go meet Amelie. We have a couple of hours to kill, and she might know something."
"Hel-lo! You're like three eggs short of a potato salad, sister. You know everyone is watching her shop just hoping you'll show up again. Much as I want to see my beloved Cecile and do that thing with her ears that makes her go all squirrelly on me, I can do without spending another day on the run from the Brothers Blu."
I smiled and opened the door to the apartment. "That's why I'm not going to the shop—you are, my little carrier pigeon."
"Fires of Abaddon, what am I, your slave?" Jim groaned as it followed me out. "Why don't you lop off my goodies and call me Lassie while you're at it."