Ophelia's gaze slid off my face as 1 looked at her, too. "What Perdita is trying to say is that we don't know how to defeat a dragon."

"You don't? Rats. I was hoping you'd help me. Drake has a small statue that he stole from me, and I really need to get it back. I'd be happy to pay for any help," I hinted broadly.

Both women were shaking their heads before I had finished speaking. "It's not that we wouldn't like to help you," Ophelia said.

"But we can't," Perdita added. "We're not strong enough to take on a dragon, especially a wyvern, double especially the green wyvern."

A little frown tugged at my eyebrows. "Powerful? You mean you two are …" I waved my hand around the room in a vague manner.

"We're Wiccans, didn't you know?" Ophelia asked.

Perdita nodded. "Pagan, of course. We would never condone any magic that was tainted by a dark power."

"Of course," I said, confused, but unwilling to admit it. I felt stupid enough, like I had stepped into the middle of a game where everyone knew the rules but me.

"People who dally with the dark powers are no better than those they use," Ophelia said somewhat righteously.

Perdita nodded. "Worse, since they have a choice."

Whatever. I wasn't about to get into a metaphysical discussion of the right and wrong of light and dark magic. "So I take it you do know someone who is powerful enough to take Drake on?"

The sisters exchanged another glance. I could read the reluctance in their eyes.

"Please," I said, allowing the desperation I felt to creep into my voice. "This is very important to me. Drake seems to think the whole thing is a game, but if I don't get that statue back, I'm never going to get him to help me."

"Help you?" Ophelia asked, looking as confused as I felt. "I thought you said he stole something of yours?"

I sighed and briefly explained about the murder and my visit with the police. "There is a chance my uncle may not fire me outright if I don't have the dragon aquamanile to hand over to him, especially if I tell him that not even the police could recover it, but there's no way I'll be able to get Drake to tell me what he knows about the murder unless I have something he wants, which means I need to get the blasted thing back so I can force him to tell me. That's the only way I'm going to be able to clear my name."

"But you're his mate," Perdita said. "Why don't you just ask him to help you?"

I ran my fingers along the stem of the wineglass and decided I had to shove my protective denial aside for a few minutes. "I don't know exactly what is going on be-tween me and Drake, what it means to be a wyvern’s mate, but I do know that he's not going to help me unless I bribe him to do it. And since I don't have anything of value"—I ignored the faint blush that arose when I re-membered how he scorned the offer of my body—"I have to first acquire something he wants. Since the aquamanile is rightfully my responsibility, that seems like the logical thing to use. The problem is, I don't know how to go about taking something away from a dragon. That's why I asked you if you know of someone who does."

Perdita pursed her lips, slipping Ophelia an unreadable look. "There's only one man powerful enough to do what you ask."

I raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"The Venediger," Perdita said.

A little curl of fear shivered down my spine as I glanced over to where the Venediger held court at the open end of the bar. I remembered the touch of his power, the feeling that he could easily overwhelm me, and the shiver grew to dread. "Um."

"Of course, he will demand a price for his services," Perdita pointed out.

"Oh? I have a little cash," I said slowly, ignoring the fact that I had spent almost all of it. I was very uneasyJ about the thought of turning to the Venediger. There was something about him that didn't feel… right. Drake, for all his arrogance and maddening attitude, at least felt like he wouldn't chew me up and spit me out.

Which is probably the stupidest thing I've ever thought. Of anyone in the bar who posed a threat to me, Drake was numero uno.

Perdita laughed. Ophelia just looked worried. "The payment the Venediger will ask of you isn't one of money," Ophelia said softly, her fingers worrying a nap-kin. 'Truly, you don't want his help. His powers are…" She looked at Perdita for help.

"Dark," Perdita said. "Do not venture down that path, Aisling. As one who has sealed a portal, you have tri-umphed over the dark horde. Do not now give yourself to one who will damn you."

I didn't say anything for a moment. I didn't quite know how to tell them that I wasn't a practicing Guardian, hadn't sealed a portal, and for that matter, didn't really know what they were talking about. Instead I gave in to the worry nagging my mind whenever it thought about the Venediger. An idea that had slowly been growing in my mind every since my conversation with Drake might be the answer to my problem. "You're right. I can do this without him. Thanks for all the advice, ladies. I greatly appreciate it."

"What are you going to do?" Ophelia asked as I gath-ered up my bag, extracted a couple of euros for the drink, and stood up.

"I'm not sure yet, but I'm bound to think of some-thing. It was lovely meeting you both. I hope to see you again soon."

They exchanged glances again, Ophelia being nomi-nated to speak as I started to leave. "You're not going to do anything rash, are you?"

"Rash? Me? The queen of circumspect? Don't be silly," I said, smiling reassuringly at them, then without a single glance toward the corner that Drake dominated, headed out into the night to raise my first—and hope-fully last—demon.

I know what you're thinking; Aisling summoning demons? The woman who just a few hours before would have laughed herself hysterical if the subject had been raised? Well, needs must as the devil drives and all that. I was hesitant to beg the Venediger for help, so I had to do something myself to get the aquamanile back, and since everyone kept telling me I was a Guardian, I fig-ured I might as well start acting like one.

I just wished I knew exactlywhat a Guardian was.

Once I returned to the hotel, I placed a very expensive international call to Beth, my uncle's secretary, who also happened to be my closest friend.