I glared at it with the squintiest eyes possible. "You are a heartbeat away from an intimate introduction to a pair of scissors and some rough twine, demon."

Jim had the decency to look abashed. It didn't fool me, however. I kept a close eye on my furry little friend as we walked up one side of the Jardin and down the other, Amelie talking the entire time, lecturing me on every-thing from the foolishness of linear thinking to a brief history of the Otherworld.

"This is all fascinating," I said an hour and probably several miles later, "but it's not terribly practical, if you know what I mean. I was hoping you'd teach me some wards or give me an idea of how to tackle one of the demon lords, something useful like that."

"Demon lords?" she asked, coming to a halt. "What do you need to know about managing a demon lord?"

"Eh … well, I may have to summon one of them."

"Which one?" she asked, going absolutely still, her eyes large and black under the soft yellow glow of a nearby lamp.

"Bael," I said, hating to say the name.

She shuddered and started walking very quickly, as if to distance herself from the unpleasant idea. "No. You are not that foolish. You would not attempt to bind the most powerful lord in all of Abaddon, not you who does not even yet know the extent of your abilities. It is impossi-ble what you say. You cannot control even the small pow-ers you have touched. You are making the joke to me."

"This is not doing a whole lot for my self-confidence," I said as I trudged along. I was telling the truth. My stom-ach had knotted up into the size of a prune. A runty prune. One with a rotten core.

"This is not funny!" Amelie suddenly shouted, spin-ning around to pin me with a look that shriveled my stomach even further. "You have challenged a wyvern! You intend on summoning a demon lord! These are not trivial events you plan—they could destroy you!"

I made a placating gesture as I urged her forward. Peo-ple had stopped to stare at her outburst, and the last thing I wanted to do was garner anyone's attention after having my face on all the newspapers. "I didn't mean to sound flip. I'm taking the matter of Bael very seriously, very se-riously indeed. But you don't have to worry about the other thing—the challenge to Drake is just an excuse to draw Ophelia out in front of a bunch of witnesses. Drake won't mind if I cancel the challenge."

She stared at me as if I had cheese growing out of my ears. "You cannot do such a thing!"

"Sure I can."

Her head shook vehemently. "No, you cannot. It is in the rules—once a challenge has been made, the two combatants must see the challenge through to the end. One must be the victor, the other the loser."

I shrugged. "I'll just refuse to fight and let him be vic-tor. I was planning to forfeit anyway, that's how I'm going to get Ophelia to show. And if she doesn't, I have a little chat with Bael and have him bring her forth to admit her guilt."

Amelie stopped, took a deep breath, and pulled on my arm until I was turned to face her. "You do not under-stand," she said slowly. "By the rules that govern theVau-dela, the challenge must be fought. There is no los-ing by default. There is no forfeit. Either you fight or your opponent will destroy you. That is the law."

I shook my head. "He can't destroy me. To do so would mean he'd kill himself, too."

She just looked at me. "Yes, it would."

I chill rippled through me at the certainty in her eyes. "He wouldn't do it. He'd refuse. He's not stupid. He wouldn't kill himself over something like a little formal-ity—"

She sighed again. "You do not understand even though I have told you our history. The laws that govern theVau-dela are not ones you can break. You accept them, or you are not a part of our world. Drake was born to theVau-dela; he is immortal. He knows the laws and he will abide by them, even if it means his own death. Youmust fight him."

"Oh, God," I said, my guts twisting with a new under-standing of just what I'd set into motion. "What have I done?"

"That is a question you must ask yourself," Amelie said acidly as she continued on down the path. "For I do not have an answer."

Even if she didn't have an answer, she had a lot of opinions. The next hour was spent with Amelie telling me in exacting detail just how stupid my plan was, but by the time the moon was rising beautiful and cold in the vel-vety blue-black sky, I had heard enough. I glanced at my watch and waved my hand for Jim to stop sweet-talking Cecile. "I'm sorry, Amelie, but there's nothing else I can do. I appreciate all your help, and your warnings, and all the information you've given me, but there's no other way out of this situation. Ophelia has us where she wants us—impotent. Justice for the deaths she caused aside, I can't let her blame Drake for her crimes. Or me. So that means I have to do what I have to do. If you'll excuse me, I've got to go to the south entrance and meet my friend Rene. He's promised to be my backup tonight."

"There is nothing I can say to make you see the folly of your plan?" Amelie said, her face twisted with worry.

I put my hand on her clenched fists and gave a gentle squeeze. "No. But I thank you."

She straightened her shoulders and started down the path to the south. "Very well. I, too, will be your backup."

"You don't have to—," I said hesitantly, not wanting her to get any more involved than she was, but aware of the warm fuzzy feeling I got thinking about her support.

"Of course I do not. But I wish to. It will be… inter-esting. Cecile? Come,ma petite, we march."

"I have a feelinginteresting is going to be the least of it," I said with a morbid sigh.

I just hate it when I'm right about things like that.

20

It was standing room only when we arrived at G & T. We had opted to wait for Rene to find a spot to park before walking to the nightclub, but even before we got to the building, crowds were visible streaming in from all di-rections.

I felt a lot like a big, bad gunslinger coming into town as I walked down the sidewalk with my posse behind me. Rene was riding shotgun (literally, although in this in-stance the gun was a small snub-nosed

.38 he'd tucked into his brown leather jacket) while Amelie and Jim were on my left. Cecile was left to snooze in Rene's taxi.

"I still do not understand how it is the man Drake is really a dragon," Rene complained. We had filled him in on everything, and much to my surprise, he had been amazingly accepting of ideas I was still coming to grips with. "He seems so human."