Before I could blink, he was there in front of me, one extremely pissed-off wyvern. I took a step back as he leaned toward me, his eyes black, his voice a low hiss. "You insult me. Guardian. My lair is safe from all intruders, no matter how powerful they might be. I amil drago blu. No one takes what I hold!"

"My apologies," I said, adopting what I hoped was a submissive, nonconfrontational pose. The last thing I needed was to piss off the probably only person in Paris who could keep the Eye safe from Drake. "I meant no in-sult. I just needed to be sure. You've convinced me that whatever I give into your safekeeping you will keep safe."

Fiat straightened a small icon on a marble shelf. "And what it is you want in exchange?"

I smiled, pleased we were to the bargaining point with me in such a strong position. "Once I tell you where to lo-cate the item, I will need your help to leave Paris… to leaveFrance. The police have my passport and other things, and although I fully expect that they will see the error in their thinking, it could take some time. In ex-change for you taking the item into your custody—and giving me your word you will never allow anyone else to have it—you will get my passport and things back, and help me get out of the country."

A calculating look filled his eyes as he leaned one elbow on the shelf. "I am no thief. For that you would do better to ask your mate."

I took a deep breath. "Does that mean you can't help me get out of the country?"

Fiat considered me for a moment. "The matter is in-significant. It is within my power to see to your escape. I am curious, though, why you ask so little for an object you claim is priceless."

I shrugged. "That's all I need."

His lips narrowed. "So you say, but I think that you are not telling me the entire truth. I do not like to be fooled,cara, not even by a woman I would enjoy taking. You come here presenting to me the grand explanation, but you shield your mind from mine, you insist on your demon being present, and you refuse to tell me much about this object. I was not born yesterday."

Jim chose that moment to stroll into the room, its leash trailing behind it. "Hey, nice digs! Is that Ming dynasty?"

"Jim," I said warningly as it put its paws onto an ebony table to examine a graceful Chinese vase.

Fiat stepped toward me, and my early-warning system went into immediate Red Alert mode. In a moment be-tween two breaths, things had changed, going from me having the upper hand to Fiat posing a very tangible threat to me.

"Maybe you just need a little time to think about it," I said, sidling around him toward Jim. "There's no hurry. I can give you until… uh … tomorrow at lunchtime. I'll just be on my way now so you can think it over."

"You will give me as long as I care to take," he an-swered, all male arrogance and power seething just below the surface. Dragons! Unreasonable, every last one of 'em. "As for your leaving, that is quite out of the ques-tion,cara. You are here, in my house and in my power. Drake might have been foolish enough to let you slip out of his grasp, but I assure you I will not. You will oblige me first by handing over the talisman you wear."

It was worse than I thought. The hard look to Fiat's eyes told me that the time for negotiation was over. "Jim?" I asked quietly, backing up toward him.

Jim sighed. "I suppose you want me to do my trusty sidekick thing again?"

"If it's not too much trouble," I answered.

"Cara—," Fiat said, shaking his head, starting toward me.

"When?" Jim asked.

"Now!" I yelled, whipping around to grab the Ming vase, throwing it to the left of Fiat. He lunged toward it with a shriek while Jim and I dashed to the right, out of the room and down the hall toward the door. The blond behemoth named Renaldo who dragged me there stum-bled out of a side room. Jim flung itself on him. I contin-ued, yelling Jim's name as I threw open the door and ran out of the apartment, racing down a wide stone spiral staircase. Voices shouted after me, but I didn't wait around to see what they wanted. I leaped down the steps, my heart pounding, my breath caught in my throat. A black shape lunged past me as I threw myself toward the street door.

"You . . . have … the … stupidest . . . ideas . . . sometimes," Jim panted as we jumped down the front stairs, running pell-mell into the busy street.

"No … argument," I gasped, pausing for a minute to find a likely hiding area. A glance over my shoulder con-firmed my fear—three men, Renaldo included, were dashing out of the apartment after me.

"This way," Jim shouted, running toward a small building that bore a blue and white sign that readvisite DES EGOUTES DE PARIS.

"What is it?" I managed to ask as I ran toward the building.

"Sewers," Jim yelled, running under a barrier meant to keep people from entering without paying. I ran up to the turnstile, grabbing a wad of euros and thrusting them at the attendant, scattering apologies behind me as I vaulted over the metal bar. I sprinted into the building after Jim, just barely stopping myself when his cry of "Stairs!" warned me of the staircase just inside the door. I pounded down the metal stairs after him, well aware of the sounds of yelling behind me. No doubt Fiat's dragon squad had

bypassed the ticket-seller, too.

"Why the sewers?" I yelled down a dimly lit staircase. As I turned on each landing, I could see Jim's black shape hurtling down the stairs in front of me.

I tossed another apology over my shoulder as I passed a family of four who were taking the stairs at a more se-date rate, the whole family looking in surprise as Jim yelled back, "Water! The blue dragon element is the air. They hate water!"

The smell hit me as I cleared the last steps and lunged through the heavy metal door at the bottom. We were in a huge stone tunnel lit by weak lights that glowed out of the curved ceiling, a long vista of tunnels opening before us. The smell was awful—don't let anyone tell you the Paris sewers don't smell like a sewer, because they do— but I didn't have time to do more than wrinkle my nose before Jim's voice called back to me from a tunnel to the left. I ran after him down a stone-lined tunnel. Above me, lights were set into the stone at regular intervals. Down the center of the curved ceiling ran a huge blue water pipe, while several smaller pipes snaked next to it down the length of the tunnel. I kept to one side as I ran after Jim, the center of the floor consisting of a steel grate that sat over a roaring river of water. Sewer water.