Twenty minutes later I was trying to concoct a story that sounded believable without spilling too much. Rene might know about Jim, but Jim was harmless. Drake was another matter, and I had a feeling he wouldn't be too happy if Rene knew too much about his identity. In this instance, ignorance was most definitely bliss.

"I didn't see a second man," Rene complained as he rubbed his head. "You said he was behind me?"

"Yeah, there was a … uh … secret passageway that opened up behind you. Drake's henchman clobbered you when you weren't looking."

Jim snorted.

Confusion and wariness took turns in Rene's eyes. "I don't feel the bump anywhere. If he hit me on the head, I would have the bump, yes?"

Jim snorted again.

"Did I say he hit you? I meant he karate-chopped you. You know, whacked you right on that nerve thingy in your neck that knocks people out. It was very fast. I'm not surprised you don't believe it, and Jim, if you snort one more time, you're off to the vet's office for a little snipping."

"And they say demons are nasty," Jim said, gazing in-nocently out the window at shoppers going to and from their cars.

"Ah. But you escaped?" Rene asked, still looking a bit confused.

"Yeah, well, I had to crack Drake on the head with my aquamanile. At least I havethat," I said as I patted my purse.

It felt remarkably light for a bag that was suppose to contain a six-hundred-year-old chunk of gold.

"Merde!"I yelled as I frantically dug through the purse. I didn't have that much in it, but even emptying it on the seat next to Rene showed what I feared with a sick, sick feeling in my gut.

The aquamanile wasn't there.

I wanted to cry. "I had it, I had it in my hands, I put it in my purse…. Oh. crap, I must have lost it in the util-ity room when you knocked all those brooms down on me."

"It wasn't my fault. Rene was heavy. I could hardly walk," Jim protested.

Much as I would have liked to blame the loss of the aquamanile on Jim, I couldn't. I didn't think it had pur-posely careened into the brooms. Demon or not, it was obeying my command to carry Rene outside. Losing the artifact was just bad luck.

"Now what will you do?" Rene asked, a concerned look in his nice brown eyes.

The urge to cry was strong, but I knew all tears would do was leave me with red eyes and a runny nose. Instead, feeling very much the martyred Saint Aisling, I set my mind to being proactive.

"I suppose Drake made it out of the room and has found the aquamanile by now." I had to swallow back a big lump at the thought of the lost dragon, but I never was one to cry over spilled aquamaniles. "So going back to take it is out of the question. What I need is someone who's an expert with dra—uh—" I glanced at Rene. "— Drake. I think, if you feel OK to drive, that I'd like to go back to La Pomme Putrefied."

"What is there to help you?" Rene asked curiously as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Amelie knows Drake," I fibbed. She knewabout him, I was sure, and that was good enough for me. Per-haps she knew of a dragonish Achilles' heel. "I'm sure she'll help me."

"Famous last words," Jim intoned from the backseat. 9

“What is it with you and dumps?" Jim asked as we strolled through the door to Amelie's shop. "This place looks like a reject from a Harry Potter knock-off."

"Shh! Don't be so rude—Amelie will hear you." I glanced quickly around the room, grateful that Amelie wasn't present to be insulted by my demon. I unsnapped the leash and made squinty eyes at Jim. "And just what do you know about Harry Potter?"

"Oh, Harry's very big in Abaddon. Is that cat's toes I see over there?"

"Ew!" I said, staring in horror at a shelf full of jars containing what I had assumed were a variety of innocent herbs and such. "Cat's toes? That's horrible!"

Jim made a disgusted face. "Grow up. Cat's toes is a fern."

"Oh." I shot the jar Jim was snuffling a suspicious glance, then turned back to the store. "Hello? Amelie? It's Aisling. Anyone home?"

"I will be only one moment, Aisling," Amelie's voice called out from a back room. "Cecile is just returning from her constitutional."

"Who's Cecile when she's at home?" Jim asked, mov-ing its investigation to a rack of books.

"Amelie's Welsh corgi. Now, listen to me—I don't want you embarrassing me, OK? Just remember that I hold the key to any and all future meals, and keep your lips zipped unless I ask you a question."

Jim cocked its head to the side and considered me. "You'd fit right in Abaddon, you know. You're got the demon lord bossiness down pat."

"I have nothing of the sort—," I started to say, then be-came aware of Amelie standing next to a curtained door-way. I gave her a watery smile. "Bonjour, Amelie."

"Bonjour.I see you have successfully summoned … a demon?"

I upped the wattage of my smile, painfully aware of the blush that rode my cheeks. "Yes, well, the summon-ing went a bit… awry. This is Jim."

"Yeah, hi, whatever, I'm not allowed to speak unless Her Holiness there permits me…. Fires of Abaddon! Baby, baby, baby!" Jim's eyes almost bugged out of its furry black head as Cecile waddled into the room. Jim did an odd little shimmy toward the surprised-looking Corgi. "Are you one hot mama, or what? Hey, baby, who's your daddy?"

"Oh, god," I said, slumping down onto one of the stools that sat next to the long counter.

Amelie looked from the dogs to me. "I do not under-stand—the demon named Jim wishes to know who Cecile’s sire is?"

"No," I said, my hands over my eyes. Just how much worse could things get? "I think it's enamored with your dog. It tends to forget that it's not really one, as well. Which, actually, is one of the things I want to talk to you—Jim! That's rude!"

Jim didn't even look abashed at being caught sniffing Cecile's rear. "Dogs do it." I swear Jim waggled its eye-brows at Cecile. "Hey, honey, you wanna sniff mine?"

"Right, that's it, out!" I ordered, pointing to the door.

Jim looked shocked. "Out? You can't send me out there! I'm a valuable dog—someone will steal me!"