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I leaned forward and propped my elbows on my knees. "So, what did you and Delilah find out about the rug shop?"
"Demon scent there, all right. I went in, just in case they recognized Delilah. The owner wasn't there, but his assistant was. A woman named Jassamin. I think she's the one who was asking after Menolly."
"What's she like? Do you think she's a djinn like we thought?" Djinns were tricky to pinpoint, but there were ways to flush them out. And Morio was well-versed in identifying magical beings.
"She's beautiful, she's sensuous, and yes, she's a djinn." He grinned at me as I slapped him on the arm.
"Beautiful and sensuous, huh?" An odd little flutter inside warned me that I was tripping close to playing the jealousy card. I had no idea where the feeling had sprung up from. It had never bothered me before if my lovers had their own private flings. But something was shifting, and it had started when we came Earthside.
He snorted. "I knew that would get your attention. Don't worry, I have no intentions of getting involved with a djinn. I don't like them, for one thing. For another, anybody hanging around a greater demon has to be bad news. I think she's young, in terms of her abilities. The underlying wards on the shop were very strong, but the ones that I could tell she had erected were weak and easily overcome."
"Did you say greater demon?" My blood turned to ice.
He nodded.
"But djinn technically aren't demons, they aren't even considered to be minor demons like imps and incubi. So where do you think the scent of greater demon is coming from? I can't believe one just wandered through the shop."
Morio shook his head. "I don't think so, either. Honestly? I think it's the owner. The scent went beyond the areas they allow customers in. I snuck into the office while the girl was off checking on a nonexistent order I'd put in, and sure enough, the room was rife with it. The stench is stuck in my nostrils and driving me nuts."
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."
