"Scary?"

"Ruthless. You would not have been at fault if you were simply defending yourself against his attack. That could notreally be considered murder." She said the words with just a hint of implied question that I

felt com-pelled to answer.

"I didn't kill him. But I know who did. I just have to find somewhere safe where I can get the proof."

"Who would kill the Venediger?" she asked, leaning her elbows on her knees. "Who would have the power to kill him?"

I looked away. "I think it's better if I don't tell you. That way, if the police question you again, you can hon-estly tell them that I didn't give you any information." That was only part of the truth, of course. I felt so be-trayed by Drake that I didn't quite trust anyone anymore. If Drake could prove to be false, anyone could.

She was silent for a moment, the only sound in her apartment that of Jim sucking Cecile's ears. "You are right. It is better if I do not know. As for a safe place for you to go—" She spread her hands wide. "—I cannot think of one. Most of the members of the /'au-dela have heard what has happened by now. They know the police suspect you of murder, and they will do nothing to pro-tect you. It would not even be safe for you to go to G & T now."

My heart fell at her words. There was much to be said for not being a fugitive. "I thought G & T would be closed because of the Venediger's death."

'Won, it is to be open. The Venediger's second in com-mand will make sure that all runs as it should. It is a very popular club, you know, the only club for I'au-dela. It makes much money. She would be a fool not to open it."

"She?"

"Perdita Dawkins."

"Perdita is the Venediger's second-in-command? Wiccan Perdita?"

"Yes, she is. That surprises– you?" Amelie raised her eyebrows, then made an annoyed sound. "Oh, but what am I doing questioning you? My manners have flown to the cats. May I offer you tea? Coffee? I have some brioches…."

"No, thank you, we've had breakfast, and speaking of that, I apologize for disturbing you so early. I was in such a haste to leave where I spent the night, I didn't think about it being so early. Are you sure about Perdita being the Venediger's assistant? Both she and Ophelia seemed to be a bit… harsh when they mentioned him. I got the feeling that being pagan Wiccans, they didn't approve of him."

"Why wouldn't they approve? Perdita owes much to the Venediger. It was he who first saw Ophelia and rec-ognized her." Amelie flitted about a tiny kitchen that opened onto the living area, stepping into a tiny walk-in pantry.

"Oh, were they separated when they were babies? I have a friend whose parents divorced right after they were born, and she got her dad while her twin went with their mom."

"Yes, I am sure about Perdita. Jean, the Venediger's previous second, he met with an accident. Perdita was named in his place," Amelie said as she emerged from the pantry. She set a plate of brioches on the table and cocked an eyebrow at me. "What did you say about your friend?"

"Nothing, really. Had Perdita and Ophelia been sepa-rated for long when the Venediger found Ophelia?"

Her eyebrow rose a smidgen. "Yes, they had. Tea or coffee?"

'Tea is fine, thank you. Hmm. Perdita," I said, thinking about the sisters. They were Wiccans; maybe I could appeal to them for help? Perhaps if I pointed out that I was trying to bring the Venediger's murderer to justice, they would take me in just for a day or so until I got the proof I needed? I was about to ask Amelie, but didn't when I realized that to tell her would be to put her in a compromising situation with the police. "I think I know of someone who might put me up for a couple of days, but I don't want to tell you who."

Amelie set down a tray with a pot of tea and two mugs. She nodded. "It is better that you do not tell me. I will not volunteer information, but I will not lie to the police if they ask me."

"Thanks." I accepted a cup of milky tea, gnawing on my lip for a moment before coming to a decision. "If you have the time, can you answer a couple of questions for me? I promise they're nothing that you can't tell the po-lice I asked about, although whether or not you'll wantto…"

Amelie sat on the yellow couch across from my chair, tucking her bare feet beneath her. "I will answer if I can, but you must not stay too long. The shop, it opens in an hour, and for me to be delayed will derange the police."

"Well, I wouldn't want them deranged—Inspector Proust is pissed enough at me. My question concerns a set of three objects called the Tools of Bael. Have you heard of them?"

The quick intake of Amelie's breath pretty much an-swered my question. "I have, but I am surprised that you have, as well. Where did you hear of this?"

Time to pick and choose what I told her. "The object I was delivering to Mme. Deauxville was an aquamanile that I was later told was one of the three Tools."

"Sacrt!"

I nodded. I didn't need her to translate; the shocked look in her eyes said it all. "I happen to know that the Venediger had in his possession one of the Tools—the Eye of Lucifer—and had hired someone to acquire the other two."

"Nom de Dieu!"Amelie said, jumping up to pace the length of the couch. "Nom de Dieu. It was Drake Vireo, the green wyvern, who was to steal the other two pieces, yes?"

"Yes," I said cautiously, not willing to tell her too much. "My question is how much damage could someone who used the Tools do? Say someone of the Venediger's power—are the Tools really so important?"

"Mon Dieu,they are legendary!" Amelie stopped pac-ing to sit on the edge of the steel and glass coffee table in front of me. "They were lost for many hundreds of years, sometimes one of the three surfacing, only to disappear, but never, in all the ages since they were created, have all three Tools been brought together. For them to be used, it would beune grande catastrophe!"

"How bad of a catastrophe?" I asked, the sick feeling of the day before having returned, making my

stomach protest the yogurt and toast that had been all I'd been able to choke down in Drake's presence.

She waved her hands in the air in a gesture that was reminiscent of the shape of a mushroom cloud. "Most bad. It is not just the person using the Tools, you see. That person would be destroyed should he even try."