I didn't bother to tell her that I wasn't entirely sure I was willing to sign on full-time as a Guardian. I couldn't think about that now; first I had to save the world from Drake and Bael. Super Aisling to the rescue. All I needed was a big red cape and a pair of blue tights.

'Thanks for the explanation. If you don't mind me looking through your phone book, I'll get the number of the person I think might be able to put me up, and then Jim and I will be out of your hair."

Amelie looked worried. "This person, it is someone you trust?"

I did a half-shrug. "No more than I trust anyone. Is there a particular person you want to warn me against?"

She said nothing for a few moments, staring at the mug of tea in her hands. "It is not so much a person about which I want to warn you, more that you should not be deceived by appearances. You are untrained, true, but you are a Guardian. You are a wyvern's mate. Your instincts may be buried and untried, but they are there within you, speaking to you if you would just hear their words."

"Sage advice indeed," I said with a smile as I stood up.

She tipped her head back to look up at me. "Tell me this if you can without it harming you—you have a plan, yes?"

"Oh, yes, I have a plan."

A faint frown tugged her brows down. "But to do what? To expose the murderer, or to destroy the Tools of Bael?"

"Certainly the first, and hopefully the last, although if I can't destroy one of the tools, at the very least I can make sure it ends up somewhere no one will find it."

"That is not so easy as you think. People will search for it."

"Yeah, I know. But I'm hoping to find a spot where no one will find it. Thanks for answering all my questions, and I'm very sorry about the police bothering you. With luck, they won't do so again."

I availed myself of Amelie's phone book before leav-ing the safety of her apartment. She offered to let me use the phone, but fearing a phone tap (or records of who was called), I thanked her and headed off to find a distant pay phone.

"I don't see why we couldn't stay there," Jim com-plained as I marched down the street toward an open mar-ket. "We could have hidden if the police came."

"We couldn't stay there because it wouldn't be right to ask Amelie to lie for us to the police. Besides, I don't think Cecile's ears could stand up to much more sucking. And while we're on the subject, that's really disgusting, you know."

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," Jim answered sullenly.

We wove our way through the early-morning shoppers at the outdoor market, finding a pay phone in a busy cafe. I called the number I'd written down from Amelie's phone book, wondering as the phone buzzed in my ear what the odds were of finding your missing twin.

"Allo?"

"Ophelia?" I asked cautiously, not able to tell if it was her or her sister. "This is Aisling Grey."

"Aisling? Perdy, it's Aisling! No, she's on the phone with me. Aisling? Yes, it's me. Where are you? You would not believe what's being said about you—"

"Oh, I bet if I tried hard, I could believe," I answered, smiling a jaded little smile of one who knows the police force of one of the world's largest cities is after her. "Lis-ten, I'm about to ask a really big favor from you, but I don't want you to feel pressured into saying yes."

"As if you even have to ask," Ophelia scolded me. "Whatever it is, you know we'll say yes."

"I need a place to stay for a day or two, somewhere my … er … dog and I can lie low."

"We'd be delighted to have you," Perdita answered,having picked up an extension. "Absolutely delighted."

"Yes, delighted," Ophelia parroted.

"That's very generous of you, but you should both understand that.. . er—" I looked around to make sure no one was standing near enough me to overhear. "—I'm awanted woman. The police want to talk to me, not thatI've done anything wrong."

"We heard you murdered the Venediger," Ophelia said excitedly.

"Feelie!"

"Well, we did! She should know that, shouldn't she?"

"Yes, but you don't just say it so baldly. You ease into such things—"

"Maybe we can discuss this later?" I interrupted, nerv-ous at being on the street, exposed to anyone who looked my way. "And … I hate to ask this, but I need to make sure. You're not… uh … planning on telling the police about me?"

"Merciful Goddess, as if we would do such a thing!" Ophelia gasped, her voice filled with honest shock.

"I'm very sorry to have doubted you, but I just can't be too careful anymore. If you really don't mind housing a fugitive, I'd be eternally grateful."

"Would you, indeed?" Perdita asked. "Eternity is a ter-ribly long time."

"Er. . . yes." I looked around the cafe again. A man near the door was eyeing me. "Can you give me your ad-dress? I'll be over as soon as possible. I'm a bit nervous about being out where the police might see me."

Ophelia gave me the address and told me they would be waiting for me. "Buzz three times. We'll let you in then."

"Will do. And many thanks!"

"Oh, don't thank us now," Ophelia laughed, somewhat cryptically.

I rang off and retrieved Jim from where it was mooching off a kindly cafe patron and his small daugh-ter, apologizing in badly mangled phrasebook French for my dog.

"Why was that little girl calling you wa-wa?" I asked as we headed for a taxi stand.

"Itsouah-ouah. It means 'doggy.' She liked me. Everyone likes me, everyone but you. Do you know the French have a phrase:avoir du chien. It implies someone who has charm and sex appeal, which makes absolute sense since it literally means 'to have dog.' What do you think about that?"

"I think you had better clam up. No talking in the taxi or in front of Perdita and Ophelia. They're kind of weird about things like demons and stuff."

"I thought you said one of them is the Venediger's lieutenant."

"She is," I said, stopping to stare in horror at a news-stand before dragging Jim forward to the taxi stand down the street.

"Hey! Where's the fire? You're choking me!"