Me and My Shadow - Katie MacAlister [62]
She stopped long enough to blast him with a glare. “Oh, blow it out your . . . your . . . your fire hole, dragon!”
“Gotta give her five out of five for style,” Jim said, watching as she raced downstairs.
“She’s very interesting, your twin,” Kaawa said in a somewhat thoughtful voice. “Not at all like you.”
“She gave up her common sense to create me. That explains a lot about her. And she’s really a very lovely person once you get to know her,” I said, driven by loyalty to defend my sometimes annoying twin. “She’s just a bit emotional right now, but once she settles down again, you’ll see that we’re not too horribly dissimilar.”
Kaawa didn’t reply to that statement. She simply murmured something about calling some acquaintances, and disappeared up the stairs toward her room.
“Jim, does Kostya have a house in Paris?” I asked, figuring perhaps the demon would know.
“Not that I’ve ever heard of,” Jim said, snuffling the floor where Kostya had stood. “He stays at Drake’s house when he’s there.”
“So then what did Kostya find so irresistible in Paris that he’s had to hide his visit there?” I was really thinking out loud, not expecting an answer, but to my surprise, Jim gave me one. Of a sort.
“You’re not asking the right question,” it said.
I glanced over to where Drake and Kostya stood in quiet conversation. Drake nodded at something his brother said; then the two of them parted, Drake going downstairs while Kostya headed upstairs. I waited until they were out of sight before I turned back to the demon. “You don’t strike me as the sort of demon who sticks too tightly to the rules.”
Jim shrugged, an amused glint in its eyes. “I’m sixth-class, remember?”
“Fallen angel, I know. You weren’t born to Abaddon, and thus, you are the weakest of all the demonic beings.”
“We prefer ‘benign’ rather than ‘weak,’ ” it said with a sniff.
“Sorry, benign. All right, then, since you want to stick to the rules that say a demon can’t offer information unless directly asked, let’s play a game of twenty questions.”
It waggled its eyebrows. “How about the strip version? If you ask the wrong question, you have to take off a piece of clothing.”
My knife slid out of the ankle holster with the faintest of honed-steel whispers.
“Regular version is fine with me,” it said quickly, backing away.
I smiled and tucked the knife away. “Let’s start with, what dragons live in Paris?”
“You’re kidding, right? ’Cause there has to be at least a hundred of them.”
“All right, let’s narrow it down.” I thought a moment. “What dragons do you know who live in Paris?”
“Who do I know personally?” it asked, scrunching up its face.
“Who you know who have a home in Paris.”
“Well, there’s Drake.”
“Other than Drake.”
Jim looked thoughtful. “Green dragons or other septs?”
“Any dragons.”
“Full-blooded dragons, or halvesies, too?”
I closed my eyes for a moment, gripping my patience. “Any dragon.”
“That’s a lot of dragons,” it pointed out.
“All right. Let’s go with dragons who Kostya would know.”
“Hmm.” Jim looked thoughtful. “Living or dead?”
“Jim!” I growled, the dragon shard begging to take control.
“I’m just trying to pinpoint what it is you want to know,” it said with an injured sniff.
I took several deep breaths. “I want to know what dragons live in Paris who Kostya might know. Living dragons, of any sept, any heritage, who are not Drake.”
“You know, you’re turning kinda red. Maybe you should have your blood pressure checked—”
Its words were choked off when I let loose the shard, shifted into dragon form, and wrapped my tail around the demon’s middle, hoisting it high.
“Fiat lives there!” The words tumbled out of the demon’s mouth. “He has a house there.”
“Where?”
“How am I supposed—”
I hung it upside down.
“Left Bank, Left Bank! Ack! All the blood is rushing to my head! I’m gonna black out!”
“Where exactly on the Left Bank?”
“Rue Delambre, near the Rosebud Bar, where Orson Welles used to hang out. Can you let me down now? I’m seeing spots.”
“Which arrondissement?”
“Fourteen! Everything is going black. . . .”
I shifted out of