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My breath quickened. "Want to make a bet we've found out where the Raksasa lives?"
He nodded. "Again, that seems logical. Whoever he is—and it's a he, that much I could tell, well, he's big and he's bad and he's dangerous. We're going to have our hands full with this mess."
"What mess?" Smoky suddenly appeared from around the bend. He gave Morio a long, studied look, then slowly turned back to me.
I jumped to my feet, suddenly feeling guilty for talking to my lover. "We're discussing the demon. Probably a Raksasa, from what we know. And a nasty one, at that."
Morio smoothly rose to his feet and gave Smoky a casual nod. "We've also got a djinn on our hands who might be in cahoots with him."
With a slow blink, Smoky let out a little huff, and I saw the faint trace of smoke wisp out of his nostrils. Disconcerting, to say the least.
"Not only that" I hurried to say, "but I found out that Morgaine is planning on resurrecting the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, and she's nominated herself for the title of Seelie Queen. Titania is over there right now, stone cold sober, and ticked off like you wouldn't believe."
"Wonderful," Smoky said, looking like he couldn't care less. "As long as they keep the battle off of my lands, it doesn't matter to me what they do. Meanwhile, Morio, I assume you came out here to tell Camille about the demon?" And nothing else was heavily implied in his voice.
Morio shrugged, ignoring the hint. "Yes, and to make sure she's all right. You're a dragon, yes. You could hand roll us on your thighs and smoke us like Cuban cigars, true. But that won't stop Camille's friends and family from making sure that she's okay. We like you enough, don't get us wrong, but she's our… she's my mistress, and her sisters are worried about her."
Smoky considered his words, then turned back to the trail. "Come then. We can talk better inside, where there are no prying ears to listen, nor eyes to take note of our actions."
Morio gave me a surprised look, and I shrugged. Who knew the whys and wherefores of Dragonkin? I fell in behind Smoky and, with Morio at my heels, we headed back to the barrow.
The warmth of the barrow—even as cavernous as it was—felt welcoming after the chill of the spring night. Morio gazed around, politely refraining from asking any questions. But I noticed he was paying careful attention to the layout of the place. Casing the joint, I would have said if I didn't know him better.
Smoky ignored him and crossed to a hand-carved bar that sat in the living room area, where he poured three snifters of brandy. He motioned for us to sit.
"Come, we'll discuss your demon problem. You say a Raksasa? I've never had a run-in with one, but some of my Asiatic cousins have. They can be extremely dangerous, and they're very good at…" he paused. "Morio, would you do me a favor?"
Morio stared at him. "What do you want?"
Smoky motioned toward the kitchen. "Will you bring me a bottle of Perrier? It's in the icebox."
Confused—Smoky seemed such a gracious host, and it seemed odd for him to ask a guest to run an errand—I stood. "I can get it for you."
"Camille, sit." He spoke quietly, but one look in his eyes told me that I'd be treading deep water if I didn't obey. I sat.
"Sure," Morio said, still frowning. He rose and went into the kitchen. As soon as he was gone, Smoky whispered something in a low voice—again, I couldn't make out what he was saying—and pointed toward the kitchen. A faint shimmer of blue fire wreathed the door.
"Now we'll wait," he said, glancing at me. I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing, but he shook his head. "In a moment."
Morio came bopping back through the door then, his attention on the bottle in his hand. He walked through the fire without blinking. At least, he did for three steps. Then he turned and stared at the door behind him.
•'Checking to make sure I'm really who I say I am?" He tossed Smoky the green bottle of water, and Smoky caught it with one hand. "Can't say that I blame you. Not with a Raksasa in the picture."
"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked, feeling both insulted and yet strangely protected by Smoky's actions.>Her voice drifted off. I held my breath as a nasty look crossed her face—an I'm gonna kick you in the balls look. "But… I need something you carry. Give it to me. Give me the horn."
Startled, I stumbled back. Mordred moved then, rushed toward me at lightning speed. I matched his pace. He might be part Fae, but my bet was he'd never lived among his otherworldly kin. My blood was at the top of my veins, his was buried in history.
"Don't even think about it," I said, dancing away. I slid my hand in my pocket and wrapped it around the horn. "Don't even try it. The horn was a gift for me, and only I can use it. And if I do, it will shatter you." A bluff, of course, but conceivably true. It sounded good, at least.
As I backed my way toward the trail, I wondered if I'd be able to make it to the barrow before they caught me. There were three of them, although Arturo didn't look nearly so keen on catching me as did Morgaine and her nephew.
I was debating on whether to turn and run or to try to face them down when a blinding flash startled the hell out of me. Could it be Smoky?
"Leave her be. This is my territory and you are trespassing on it."
I swung around. There, standing tall and regal and crowned in a swath of energy far stronger than before, stood Titania. And she didn't look happy.
Chapter Sixteen
