A short while later I was negotiating my way down a street made dark by narrow alleys and tall buildings. The air smelled of spices and incense and something earthy that I couldn't pinpoint. Rene had dropped me off a block away, giving me directions to the shop before he dashed off to take care of a prearranged appointment.

"I will pick you up right here in an hour, yes?"

"Yes," I said. "And thanks, Rene. I'd be lost without you. Literally!"

"Just remember what I taught you to say if anyone an-noys you," he said, wagging his finger at me.

I cleared my throat and tried on a little sneer that Rene said would go far. "Pardonnez-moi, mais avez-vous un pore-epic coince entre lesfesses?"

He cackled and waved, one hand on the horn as he drove through the crowded streets.

"Yeah, right, like 'Excuse me, but do you have a por-cupine wedged between your buttocks?' is going to

save me from being cursed or whatever it is witches do." I looked at the directions on the slip of paper Rene gave me and started off down a dark little alley named Rue d'Ebullitions sur les Fesses de Diable, which Rene in-formed me with no little mirth was translated as "boils on the buttocks of the devil street."

Could my life get any stranger?

"Yes. yes it can," I said a few minutes later as I stepped into a surprisingly well-lit shop. After visiting all the dark, murky occult bookshops, shops that seemed to thrive on dirt and the merest hint of sunlight through grimy, unwashed windows, Le Grimoire Toxique (The Poisonous Grimoire") was a pleasant change. Flowering plants lined window boxes beneath the shop's two (clean!) windows, and the inside was not only bright and cheery, but also smelled pleasantly of frankincense. The wall opposite the door was filled with the big glass jars I associate with old-time apothecary shops, each labeled with a violet tag. To the right were books and what looked like a large tarot-card section; to the left, a short, salt-and-pepper-haired woman was seated behind a long wooden counter, reading a paper and sipping coffee.

"Bonjour,"I said, mindful of Rene's warning of com-mon courtesies. "Parlez-vous anglais?"

The woman looked up. Her eyes were a pale, pale blue, the kind of blue you see on Siberian huskies. "Yes, I do, although I do not have much opportunity to speak it. You are American?"

"Yup."

"How delightful. I am Amelie Merllain."

I set my tote bag on the floor, reaching over to shake her hand. "Aisling Grey."

"I am most pleased to meet you. How can I help you?" A fat black Welsh corgi waddled over and started nosing in my bag. Amelie scolded her. "Cecile! That is very poor manners to show a visitor."

"Oh, that's OK," I said, pulling my bag out of the dog's reach. I set it on the counter, bending down to pat her, but the little beast snapped at me.

"Cecile!" Amelie pointed to a small maroon dog bed and ordered the dog to it. "My apologies. She is very eld-erly and feels that gives her the right to be surly."

"No problem. I was wondering if you would happen to know—"

"Teh," she interrupted, brushing at the counter where my clothes had spilled out of the tote bag. "Dragon scales. They get everywhere, no?"

I stared at her. With my mouth open. "Ibeg your par-don?"

"Dragon scales," she said a little louder, brushing something off the counter. She tugged at my gauze dress that was peeking out of the bag, pulling it out and show-ing me the neckline. "Here, you see? Dragon scales. They are all over your dress."

I looked, my mouth unfortunately still hanging open. There was a slight iridescent powder on the left shoulder and neck of the dress. "Um … dragon scales?"

"Yes. You must have been with a dragon recently."

I blinked a couple of times, but you know, I think I'm going to give up on blinking as a turbocharger for my brain. It didn't seem to be working. "Dragons as in the big fire-breathing creatures with wings and an aversion to saints named George,those sorts of dragons?"

Amelie snorted and pushed my dress back into the bag. "Don't be ridiculous. What sort of dragon do you know who would walk about in his animal form? He would be captured immediately and put to those horrible tests the scientists so love."

"I don't knowany dragons," I said hastily, wondering if Paris had become a city of lunatics. First demons and now dragons? Maybe my name was Alice and I had slipped into Wonderland without knowing it.

"If that is your dress, you most certainly do know at least one dragon," she said sharply, frowning at me. "Where is your portal?"

I started to blink, but decided to go for the suave look instead. I raised my eyebrows and leaned one hip against the counter. "My portal? What portal would that be?"

"The portal that you guard. You are a Guardian—it is not difficult what I ask. Where is your portal?"

"With the dragon?" I guessed.

Her frown deepened. "That is not at all wise. Dragons are not to be trusted when it concerns portals. Too much temptation, you understand. What sept is he from?"

"Who?" I asked, totally and completely lost at this point.

"The dragon whom you left guarding your portal. What is his name?"

I said the only name that came to mind, the name that had been on the tip of my tongue since I entered the shop. "Drake Vireo."

Her frown disappeared as her brows shot upward in a look of horror. "Drake Vireo? You left a wyvern in charge of your portal? Merciful goddess!"

The room spun. Seriously, the room started to spin right before my eyes. I clutched the counter and held my breath, but it didn't help.

"Do you have a chair?" I asked, sure I was going to faint.

She waved me around the long counter to where a sec-ond stool stood. "You are exhausted. Come, sit here."

I allowed her to pour me a cup of coffee, praying the caffeine would keep me sane until I could go back to the hotel room and collapse. Maybe the sleep deprivation was making me hallucinate? There was no other reason-able explanation for why I was in a city where people in-voked demons and talked about dragon scales as casually as I would the weather.

"Thank you. No, black is good. Now, maybe we could take this slowly. I'm a little tired and not thinking very well. First off, do you know Drake Vireo?"

Amelie shook her head. "Not personally, although I have heard of him, of course. All the wyverns are known in our community."