"Sounds kind of like a paranormal Mafia."

She didn't laugh as I expected her to. Instead she looked troubled. "I'm afraid that's an accurate compari-son. The Venediger—the one who died—long held France in his grip. No one challenged him, because of the power he held. Those who were foolish enough to cross him once never did so a second time. It was a virtual dic-tatorship. Our only hope of avoiding the same fate is if the next Venediger will be one of our own."

I couldn't keep my surprise from showing at that com-ment. "A Wiccan? A Wiccan can be a Venediger?"

She nodded. "Female Venedigers aren't common, but they aren't unknown. All that is needed to acquire the title is the ability to beat the other aspirants."

"How many people are there who are likely to try for the job?" I asked, wondering if Perdita had wanted the Venediger gone not because of his history with Bael, but because she wanted his position … but that was stupid. Drake killed the Venediger; Bafamal admitted as much.

"Right now there are few people in France who have the power needed to control the Otherworld."

"The wyverns are powerful," I said slowly, my mind twisting and turning as it tried to work through a convo-luted thought.

"Yes, but they are too bound to their septs to ever be-come a Venediger."

"Does Perdita—?"I hesitated, unwilling to put my thoughts into words. I didn't want to offend Ophelia with my question, but I had to know the truth. All of it. "Does Perdita have the power to become the next Venediger?"

"Perdy?" Ophelia's nose scrunched as she thought about the question. "I suppose she does. She's a very powerful Wiccan. Oh!" Her eyes went round as she clutched at my hand. "You don't think she intends to do it, do you? Become the Venediger? I hadn't thought she would, but you may be on to something. It is just the sort of challenge she would enjoy. She might just do it."

Every bell and siren that composed my mental warn-ing system went into Red Alert double overtime. Ophe-lia's innocent act rang false, completely false. The question was, why did she want me to think Perdita hadn't considered the job of Venediger?

The answer to that was easy—she had to know I was beginning to suspect Perdita's motives. She would natu-rally be expected to cover up the acts of a dearly beloved sister.

And with that thought, a light clicked on in my head. I saw it all, saw the whole plan, each jigsaw piece of it fit-ting smoothly into the next. All those knowing looks be-tween the two of them, Perdita's copy

oftheSteganographia, Perdita's lectures about people who tapped into the dark powers, Ophelia telling me that Perdita had had a relationship with Drake—it all came into focus as I sat watching Ophelia wring her hands with pretend worry. Even the vague something that bothered me in watching the video of Bafamal dropped into place—Drake had told me that dragons couldn't sum-mon demons. He might have been lying, but thinking back, I was of the mind he had been telling the truth. That meant that someone else had to have summoned Bafamal. Ophelia prattled on about how wonderful it would be with a Wiccan in charge while I wondered idly if she knew that I was familiar with the fact that a dragon couldn't summon a servant of Abaddon.

"What are you going to do?"

I started, drawn out of my own dark musing by her question. "About Drake?"

She nodded.

I leaned back against the wall, wrapping my arms around my knees. I knew what the solution to the prob-lem of the murders was, but as yet, I had no idea how to prove it. "I suppose I'm going to have to have it out with him."

She sucked her breath in, her blue eyes wide with sur-prise … and perhaps a smidgen of pleasure. "A chal-lenge? You're going to issue a challenge to him?"

I nodded.Challenge was a good word for what I wanted to do.

"How exciting! I've never seen a wyvern challenged."

"Yes, well, there's a first time for everything. A chal-lenge might suit very well." I slid a glance her way. "It will allow me to reveal the truth."

"The truth is good," she said with a righteous nod. "I do hope I can help you. May I be your second? Perdy won't approve, but you are my friend. I can't turn my back on you when you're about to undertake something so terrifying as challenging a wyvern."

A tiny frown grew until my brows were pulled to-gether, the awful suspicion bouncing around my head that there might be something more to a challenge than I had supposed. "Eh—"

She jumped up from the chair, turning to the cabinet of supplies. "I must cast a spell of clarity over you. Or no, perhaps one of protection would be best?"

"Protection?" I asked, getting a bit more worried.

"No one has ever challenged a wyvern and lived," she tossed over her shoulder as she rustled around the shelves. "Protection would be best, although clarity … Oh, why can't Perdy be here to help me? She would know what to do."

"Um—"

She turned around, her arms full of jars of herbs, can-dles, and other supplies. "I'll just whip something

up for you just as soon as we return from G & T."

"We're going to G & T?" I asked, now seriously wor-ried and moving straight into panic land. "What… eh … what exactly did you mean no one has ever chal-lenged a wyvern and lived? You were talking about something a long time ago, right? Hundreds of years ago?"

"Goddess, no! Just last year someone challenged one of the wyverns—I believe it was Drake, although I was visiting my mother at the time. Perdy would know. She was still living with Drake then. One of the German mages accused him of stealing a very valuable ring, and challenged him. Drake killed the mage, of course."

"He did?" I squeaked.

She set her things down on the table next to the bookcase. "That is the way of dragons. It's one of the reasons Perdy and I have wanted the Venediger to see the True Path, so he would put his foot down about the violence that seems to follow the dragons." She drifted toward the door, her hands doing the usual graceful flutter that ac-companied her conversation. "I'll just go get changed. Will you be ready in twenty minutes or so?"

I nodded, too dumbstruck to speak. Drake killed a man who challenged him? I stood up slowly and walked to the wardrobe, opening it to look at the face that stared out of the mirror hung on the inside door. My lips stretched into a suitably grim smile. "Out of the frying pan, Aisling, and into the fire … again."