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As we approached the house, I noticed that it looked quite tidy compared to when Tom had lived here. Somebody had taken the time to weed out a flower bed that skirted the front of the house, and the porch steps had been repaired. Smoky? Nah, he wasn't the type to play at home improvement. Or was he?
Camille seemed to be thinking the same thing, because she glanced back at me with a puzzled look, then shrugged. As she and Morio crept up the stairs, the front door slammed open, and a funny-looking man appeared, wearing what looked like old-world leggings and a tunic. His eyes lit up when he saw us, and he spread his arms wide.
"It's the D'Artigo sisters, come to visit Georgio! But where is your sister? Oh, that's right, she's sick, she can't come out in the light," he said, bustling across the porch to welcome us in.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't Georgio Profeta!" I beamed him a warm smile. "How you doing today, Saint George?"
Saint George, as he thought of himself, gave us a knowing look. "I've been on dragon watch, of course. He's a wily one, cunning and stealthy. I know he's been prowling around, and someday, when he least expects it, I'll make my move. Until then, I lead him on, allow him to think I don't know his ulterior motive in moving me out here."
Moving me out here? Good gods, what had Smoky gone and done? Georgio Profeta, self-proclaimed dragon slayer, had been after Smoky for several years now, if we understood matters correctly. Of course, he didn't stand a chance in hell of even giving Smoky a broken pinky, let alone "slaying the beast," but Smoky seemed to have developed a soft spot in his heart for the bewildered man who had long ago lost his connection with reality.
Camille and I gave each other a quick look, and she bustled over to him. "Saint George, how brilliant! I'm sure he doesn't suspect a thing. And did you fix up the house all by yourself?"
He shook his head. "No, when my grandmother died last month, the dragon thought to lure me out here, to offer friendship as a guise in order to keep track of my whereabouts. So I'm taking advantage of his guile. He helped me fix up the house and told me I could live here as long as I need to. Of course, he's just trying to keep me where he can see me. I have slain dragons, I've bedded princesses. I've…" His attention suddenly wandered off, and he disappeared into a silent veil of thought. It was as if someone had turned off the light switch.
Right about then, Smoky appeared at the edge of the clearing. He was in human form, a good thing since there wasn't a lot of room in the front yard for a dragon. He swiftly strode over to meet us. Tall, with long silver hair and frost-colored eyes that mirrored his milk-white skin, he was gorgeous, timeless in a day and age that ran too quickly. He walked with deliberate, arrogant steps. With a warning glance that was easy enough to read—Keep quiet or else—he glanced at us before reaching for Georgio's hand.
"I see Saint George has gone into another fugue," he said, leading the man into the house. Camille and I looked at each other, shrugged, and then followed. Zachary and Morio brought up the rear.
As we entered the house, I could still see Tom's presence in the furniture and decorations, but Georgio had taken over. Prints of Saint George fighting the dragon lined the walls, and draped on a mannequin in a corner of the living room was his plastic-ringed chain-mail armor.
Smoky led Georgio over to a chair and helped him sit down. Then he whistled an odd tune, and after a moment, an older lady came wandering out of the kitchen. She had an apron tied over her floral-print housedress, and her hair was long and gray and braided back in a neat French twist.
"I want you to meet some friends of mine," Smoky said. "Estelle, this is Camille, her sister Delilah, that's Morio and… you must be Zachary?" He bowed briefly to Zach, who looked totally nonplussed.
"They dragons, too?" Estelle asked, giving us the once-over.
"No," Smoky said. "They aren't dragons. If they choose, they're welcome to tell you what they are, but that's up to them. Georgio has slipped into one of his fugues again. Take him to his room and make sure he's cared for?"
She grunted as she took Georgio's arm and gently led him away.
Smoky watched until they were gone. "You're right on time. Very good."
"Hold on," I said. "Not so fast. Who is Estelle, and why is Georgio living out here?"
Smoky gave me a long, cool look. "And you consider this your business?"
My blood ran thin. Picture: little kitty cat swatting monstrous beast and realizing maybe it's not such a good idea.
After a moment, he said, "If you must know, Estelle worked for Georgio's grandmother. She's been his caregiver for years. When I found him in the yard a few weeks back, crying because his grandmother died, I took a trip to the city and had a little talk with Ms. Dugan. She agreed to come here and take care of him. His grandmother left him no inheritance, and he has no other living relatives. Since Georgio can't take care of himself, I offered them the use of this house, a small stipend to keep them in food and clothing, and a wage to Estelle that will allow her to save for her old age—what there is left of it."
He motioned to the door. "Let's move. The veils must be parted during the afternoon." As he took his place beside Camille, he looked over his shoulder. "And before you ask, yes, the woman knows I'm a dragon. And no, it didn't faze her." He curled his arm possessively around Camille's shoulder and led us out into the yard. And that was all to be said on the subject. I wasn't stupid, I knew when to stop pushing.
We followed Smoky through the brush.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Zachary asked, swinging in beside me as we headed into the wood.
"We've come this far. There's no way in hell that I'm turning back now." After a moment, I hesitantly approached what was bound to be a touchy subject. "Zach, I have to ask this, so please don't take offense. How well do you know your fellow clan members? Is there anybody new in the Pride? Would you trust everyone with your life?"
He blinked. "Why? Do you suspect somebody there of not playing straight with us?"
"I just need to know. Trust me in this—it's important." I wanted to tell him about the werepuma energy that had shown up on our porch, but Camille had warned against it.
Zachary stared at the ground, looking worn out and confused. "To be honest? I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. We do have a few new members, distant relatives who came from other clans during the past few months. We don't turn away family. I just wish I knew what was going on. If I did, I could probably answer your question better."
Thinking about our own family troubles back in Otherworld, I said, "Sometimes you may not be able to trust anybody but yourself. Sometimes the world turns upside down, and all you can do is hold on for the ride and try to make it out in one piece."
Zach gave me a quizzical look. "I take it you're having problems of your own?" He stepped over a bramble sucker that had grown out onto the path.
