You Slay Me (12 page)

I sighed. "I'd give it to you if I had it."

He continued to watch the river for a few minutes. "What did you find in the circle during your visit to Mme. Deauxville's apartment?"

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He looked almost disinterested, as if he were simply passing the time talking about something innocuous, like the weather. Now I had to lie, or else he'd think I was stark, staring mad. "Not much. There was salt in it as well as ash."

He nodded, waiting for me to go on. I fidgeted, trying to pick out things I could safely tell him. "Whoever drew the circle followed the formula for summoning Ashtaroth, a demon lord."

"A demon lord, how very unusual." If his voice were any more bland, it would be tapioca. "Why would someone wish to do that?"

"You got me," I answered, giving a little shrug of my own. It wasn't nearly as effective as his, but it felt good nonetheless.

"No, I do not have you, but I could if I feel strongly enough that you are not being entirely honest with me."

I glanced at him again to see if he was joking. Serious brown eyes looked back at me.

"Oh. Uh..."

"For someone who is new to Paris, you seem to have made quite an entrance in the occult underground society that is so popular in the Latin Quarter."

Oh, lord, had he seen me playing kissy-face with Drake in G & T?

"One might almost say you were comfortable in such a society, as if you were expected."

"I didn't know a soul here until I arrived," I said honestly. I chanced another glance at him. His left eyebrow was cocked in outright disbelief.

"If that is so, I would be forced to say that you have made yourself familiar with certain individuals exceptionally quickly."

He
had
seen Drake and me kissing! Damn. "Um ..."

Proust flicked his cigarette to the pavement, grinding it out with his heel as he stood up. "A word of advice, if you will permit it, mademoiselle."

"Whatever turns your crank," I said as I stood up, too.

"It is an English poet, I think, who said that all that glitters is not gold. Me, I say that which looks innocent is often the most corrupted."

With those parting words, Inspector Proust patted Jim on the head and strolled off down the cobblestone street toward Mme. Deauxville's house.

"Well, how do you like that? Was he talking about me, do you think? Or something else? And if so, who? Or what?"

"How would I know? I'm just a homeless stray no one wanted that you so kindly took in," Jim answered. "He petted me, you'll notice. You could do more of that. Wouldn't hurt you any."

I made a face. "May I remind you that you're a demon, not a dog, and it is commonly held that those things that we mortals find enjoyable—like petting—are loathsome to demons?"

"All I said was that you could do more of it," Jim said with great dignity, lumbering over to pee on a nearby trash can.

I thought about what I needed to do next. Even though Inspector Proust said I was off the hook for the actual murder, it was obvious he thought I was involved somehow, which was not going to get me my passport back. I still needed to find out who drew that circle, and although I had a clue in the name of the demon that was present, it wasn't enough to give me the answer.

"I bet Drake knows, the rat fink."

"I thought he was a wyvern."

I turned to Jim, patted it on the head, and even gave its ears a quick fondle. "Stop groaning, people will hear you."

"Dogs groan when you rub their ears," Jim said with a sour look.

I grabbed the leash and headed toward the Pont Marie.

'True, but they don't mumble 'Oh, yeah, mama, that's the spot right there!' while they're doing it. Any ideas on where in Paris a wyvern would be likely to keep his lair?"

"Phone book," Jim said.

I shot it a look. "That's just stupid. Drake is a powerful dragon, a wyvern, an immortal. He wouldn't be in a phone book like normal people."

"Just because you're immortal doesn't mean you don't want people to call you," Jim pointed out.

"Fine, I'll look, but it's a waste of time," I grumbled as I changed course to stop by a pay phone. "You could be trying to help me by thinking of all the likely spots that a dragon might... Well, I'll be damned."

"Told you," Jim said smugly as I stared down at the phone book page. There was Drake's name, big as life.

"I am
so
in over my head," I said with a sigh as I wrote down the address. I toyed with the thought of simply calling him up, but that would take the surprise out of me showing up on his doorstep demanding my aquamanile. Not that he was going to give it to me if I just asked ...

"Inspector Proust mentioned Amelie. I wonder if I should talk to her. If he thought she was someone important, maybe she can shed a little light on the murder, or at least who might be likely to call up Bafamal. Or I could go straight to Drake's and try to sneak in. Or I could swing by the G & T and see if Ophelia and Perdita might be there."

"Who?"

"They're sisters, Wiccan sisters. I met them at G & T."

"Oh. Or—and this is a much better plan—you could take me to lunch and feed me."

"You just had breakfast," I said absently, trying to think what would be the logical next step. The problem was, logic didn't seem to be on speaking terms with me anymore.

"That was hours ago," Jim complained. "I'm hungry. This form needs to be fed.
Frequently."

"You did that well,". I told my furry demon as we strolled toward the road. "That plaintive note in your voice was particularly heartrending."

"It's wasted on someone who doesn't have a heart," Jim snapped.

I laughed—which should have been worth some major karma points, because my life was anything but amusing—and patted the big black head that bobbed alongside me. "Poor little demon. All right, we'll have a quick lunch, but it has to be fast. I've got to get that aquamanile back."

We ate in a small cafe, then feeling pressured, I gave in to temptation and called Rene to see if he was free for a few hours.

"You desire help finding your missing dragon?" he asked. "I will aid you. I know a great many people in Paris. Where are you?"

"Near the Pont Marie."

"I will meet you on the Right Bank. I can be with you in fifteen minutes. Then we will make our plans, yes?"

"Sure, although I think I know where the dragon is. The trouble isn't going to be finding it, it's going to be ... uh ... liberating it."

"Ah, bon? Viva la libiration!"
Rene said, hanging up after giving me instructions about where he would collect us.

"Remember the rules," I warned Jim as Rene pulled up a short while later. "You're just a dog. No laughing, no disgusted snorts, no rolling your eyes, and
no
talking."

"You really are a control freak, aren't you?" Jim asked as I opened the car door.

"You look
tres bon
today. No blood on your dress! This is good, yes?" Rene said over his shoulder, his eyes widening as he saw Jim follow me into the taxi. "You have a pet?"

"Uh... yeah. A stray dog. I found him. Here's the address for Drake—"

"A dog? That is not a horse?" Rene said with a chuckle as he pulled out into traffic.

"If I were a horse, I wouldn't fit in this ratty old taxi, now, would I?" Jim asked.

Rene made an inarticulate sound and slammed on the brakes. Behind us, the squeal of tires on pavement could be heard, quickly followed by the prolonged honking of horns and a great deal of profound swearing.

"Jim!"
I yelled, grabbing its ear.

"Ow! You're hurting me! You're my witness, Rene. This is animal abuse. She could go to jail for this, right?"

Rene turned around in his seat, his eyes huge as he. looked from me to Jim. "You ... you are not... what is it called, the person who speaks through a doll?"

"Ventriloquist?" I released Jim's ear and sat back with a heartfelt sigh, ignoring the sound of some really ticked off people behind us. "No, I'm not. You're not hearing things, it was Jim who spoke."

"A dog?" Rene choked and turned red.

"You see?" I whapped Jim on the shoulder. "This is why I told you to keep quiet. Now you've upset poor Rene."

"You said he was a friend of yours. Who was it who said 'Love me, love my dog'?"

"You're not a dog. Rene, why don't you pull over somewhere. I'll explain it to you then."

"How is it the dog he is talking?" he asked, ignoring my suggestion.

"Jim's not really a dog. It's a demon. It just took a dog's form."

"A demon?" I didn't think it possible, but Rene's voice went up an octave. "One of the little devils?"

"A demon formerly of the legions of Amaymon," Jim said with a sniff, turning its head to look out the window.

"Rene, can we please get moving?" I pleaded. "There's a huge line of traffic behind us. I can explain—"

"You said you did not believe in the little devils, and yet you have one here?"

"Yeah, well, I changed my mind."

Rene looked at Jim for a few more moments, then shrugged and turned back to the steering wheel, saying,
"A lui le pompom."

"What was that?" I asked, relieved we were moving again, although if Jim had done as I asked, I wouldn't have had to explain to Rene about it in the first place .. . I glared at Jim and pinched its shoulder.

'To him the
pompom.
It means ...
heu
... he ate the cake."

'Takes the cake, yes, I know what you mean, but really, Rene, you don't have to worry about Jim. It can't hurt you. It's powerless."

"Well, just tell everyone, why don't you?" Jim huffed. "Shall I rent you some billboard space? Maybe book you some time on the local news station for maximum coverage?"

"You should be counting yourself lucky I don't drop you off at the nearest pound, you big blabbermouth." I gave it a glare just to let it know I wasn't pleased. "Be quiet, and stop causing problems."

"I'm a demon," Jim mumbled. "That's what we do best."

I narrowed my glare until it had laser accuracy. Jim sniffed again and looked pointedly at the handle for the car window.

"Honest to Pete, what I have to do for you..." I leaned over and rolled the window down enough so Jim " could stick its head out. "Oh, Rene, I think I may be followed by the police. I hate to say this because it sounds so cheesy, but do you think you can lose them?"

Rene snorted, his eyes lit with pleasure. "The police? You do not even have to ask,
ma vieille branche.
It is done."

"What's a
vieille branche?"
I asked Jim as Rene spun the car around a corner and wove his way through traffic. I didn't honestly expect Jim to know, but I was willing to do anything to distract myself from the death-defying manner in which Rene plunged through traffic in his attempt to shake the police tail.

"Old branch. It's slang for 'Mend.' You came to a country without even bothering to learn the language?"

"It's my first job. I'm going to take classes once it's over," I muttered, annoyed that I had to defend myself to a demon.

After that I closed my eyes, deciding it was really better if didn't see how close to death I was with each spin of the steering wheel. I clung to the armrest, saying, "I'm really sorry you. had to learn about Jim this way, Rene. I hope it doesn't shake you up too much. I'm kind of stuck with having a dog until I can send it back."

"Non."
I opened my eyes long enough to see in the rearview mirror as Rene pursed his lips. He took a deep breath, flipped off another taxi driver who swerved into our lane, and finally said, "It is not the deal big. You have a dog who is also a little devil, eh, me, I do not mind."

"That's remarkably accepting of you. It took me hours to get to the point you're at after just a few minutes."

"I'm French," Rene said with another shrug. "We are superior, yes?"

"Absolutely," I said with a smile, one that stayed on my face until we pulled up outside the address listed for Drake.

"We are here, and the police, they will not know where we are," Rene said with great satisfaction.

"Um," I said, looking at the courtyard. A private courtyard, one with a fountain. If I thought Mme. Deauxville's building said expensive, this one screamed
millionaire.

Rene whistled as he took in the beautiful pink stone building set back behind the courtyard. "This man who stole your dragon, he has much money?"

"I'm going to say the answer to that is a resounding yes." I got out of the taxi and gave myself over to a few seconds of blatant gawking. "Can you wait, or do you have to go run rich tourists around?"

He reached for his cell phone, his eyes still on the house. "I will call my friend to take my afternoon appointment. I think I should come with you."

"Geez, Rene, I don't want to make you lose out on good pickings from tourists."

He waved me forward, already speaking into his phone.

"So, what's the game plan?" Jim asked as we skirted the fountain.

I just knew someone was going to ask me that. Unfortunately, I hadn't yet thought of a reasonable answer. "Well... I don't really have one."

Jim groaned. "Don't tell me you're just planning on walking in the front door?"

"Er. .. maybe. Unless you have a better idea?" I stopped in front of the two large doors and gnawed my lower lip. The courtyard was completely deserted. There wasn't even a shadow to be seen flickering behind the lace net curtains that hung in all the windows, lace curtains that I suspected were there to keep prying eyes from seeing too much rather than for decorative purposes. The thought of Drake picking out lace curtains for his house was just too much for my brain to handle.

Jim rolled its eyes. "This is a dragon's home. You think they survived for centuries by letting in anyone who wants to stroll in and have a look around?"

I hated to admit it, but that made sense. Drake would hardly be likely to leave the aquamanile lying around where I could easily get at it. "Right. What do you know about dragon's lairs?"

"I don't know any dragons," Jim answered, smelling at a large potted plant. "Thus I don't know anything about their lairs."