"You'll see. Come on."

"If you're dragging me somewhere to see another dog you've fallen in love with—," I warned as I followed Jim down the hallway, past the big staircase and into the wing that housed Drake's bedroom.

"Are you kidding? I'm a demon, not a two-timer. My heart belongs to Cecile."

"You don't have a heart," I pointed out. "I thought you were on the verge of starving to death."

Jim stopped in front of a door and gave me a scornful • look. 'There are some things more important

than feed-ing your face, Aisling."

That stripped the grin off my lips. If Jim thought something was more important than having breakfast, it would have to be something tantamount to the apoca-lypse.

"Isn't this Drake's room?" I asked, looking at the closed door.

"No, we passed that. Go on in."

I wetted my lower lip, suddenly nervous. "What's in there?"

"I can't tell you," Jim said softly.

"Why?"

"Just go in."

I gave Jim a steely glare. "If this is some sort of a setup between you and Drake—"

"Fires of Abaddon, will you justgo in!"

I put my hand on the door, a familiar feeling of dread swamping me, stripping the air from my lungs with its in-tensity. "Oh, no, not—" I threw the door open. The room must have been the communications center that Drake had mentioned earlier, because it was filled with a bank of computers, monitors showing various parts around the house and grounds, and one big control panel laid out like a soundboard.

Oh, and one demon in a shiny, electric-blue suit.

I stared speechlessly at the demon in man form that swiveled around in its chair to look at me. It looked like a man, a rather handsome man with high cheekbones and elegantly coiffed blond hair. It even had a tiny, discreet earring. What the devil was a demon doing in Drake's house?

"What is your name, demon?" I asked.

It smiled. The monitor nearest it went snowy. "You know the rules, Guardian. You didn't summon me, so I don't have to answer any of your questions."

I looked back through the open doorway to where Jim sat in the hallway. "Do you know who this is?" I asked.

"Yep. But if you are expecting me to tell you, I can't. That's another one of the rules—no narcing on fellow demons."

"I could command you to tell me its name," I said.

Jim shook its head. "Still wouldn't be able to tell you. You really do need to read the rule book."

I made an exasperated noise. Jim cleared its throat. "However, nothing says I can't give you a hint…. Think about the demon you've been chasing."

"Bafamal?" I asked, turning to look at the demon-man. "You're Bafamal?"

The demon snarled something as it stood up. Jim flinched. Two monitors flickered, then died.

Bafamal? What was it doing here in Drake's house… ? The penny dropped. I stared in horror at the blond demon as all the pieces came together in my mind with one solidwhomp. Drake had lied to me: he had been lying to me all the time. He said dragons couldn't summon a demon, and yet here was Bafamal looking quite comfy and at home in his communications room. He said he didn't kill Mme. Deauxville and the Venediger, and yet here was the in-strument of their deaths. The only thing I couldn't figure out was why Drake hadn't hidden the signs that he had used a demon to commit murder, but I was sure I'd fig-ure out that last puzzle. Right now I had to get out of Drake's house before he found out I'd seen his demon.

I turned back to Jim. "Is there any way I can get rid of a demon I haven't summoned?"

"Sure. You draw a circle, say the words, and poof! He goes up in smoke."

"Words, what words?" I asked, wringing my hands. It was becoming a bad habit, but I didn't have time to take myself to task about it. I had a demon to send back to Hell. "I don't have my notes or the book I need."

'To send the demon back, you need its twelve words, the ones ruling it."

"If you think I'm going to stand here and allow this Guardian to send me back without breaking her neck, you're as crazy as she is," Bafamal said to Jim.

I didn't need Jim's warning to guess the demon was about to attack me. Without thinking, I opened the door in my mind, summoned Drake's fire, shaped it, and sent it to my attacker just as Bafamal lunged toward me, its hands outstretched claws.

"That shiny material sure does burn," Jim commented from the hallway as inside the room the demon shrieked, spinning in a circle, frantically trying to beat out the fire that erupted all over its body.

"Quickly," I said, running to Jim. "Where do I find the twelve words?"

"Each demon has twelve words binding it: six that identify it, six that define it. Usually the only way to get them is to capture the demon and torment it until it tells you."

"Usually?" I asked, glancing back over my shoulder at Bafamal. It had put out almost all the flames on its suit.

Jim smiled. "Yeah, usually. The exception is when you have an extraordinarily handsome and intelligent demon of your own who doesn't mind telling you the other demon's words."

"You just said you couldn't help me!" I yelled.

"I said I couldn'tname him. That doesn't mean I can't give you other information about him."

I grabbed Jim's furry head and kissed its muzzle, jumping back into the room to search for a felt pen I could use to draw a circle on the cream-colored rug that graced the middle of a highly polished wooden floor.

Five minutes later I opened the windows to let out the last whiffs of demon smoke. "That was close," I croaked, rubbing my throat.

'Too close. You really do need to find yourself a men-tor, someone to show you the Guardian ropes. Thereare binding wards you can use to keep from being throttled while you're conducting the ritual."

Jim followed as I ran back to my room. "I don't have time to think about that now. I have lo get the proof that Drake murdered Mme. Deauxville and the Venediger. Where did I put that extra plastic bag? There it is." I shoved all my new clothes and my soiled pantsuit into the bags, including the sandals. I opened the window, check-ing for anyone who might be loitering along the side of the house, then tossed the bag of my clothes out. "Come on. Drake will get suspicious if we don't show up for breakfast. As soon as we're done, I'll tell him I need to take you walkies again, and we'll hightail it out of here."