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  That he noticed.

  "Where is Jim?" I asked Tiffany as she caught up to me. We reached a spot in the path where it split, one direction leading to the other side of the park, the other beading toward the main entrance.

  "By the feeding area. I searched the beech forest and was returning to find you, when I heard much barking of a large dog. It is beautiful here, is it not? There are many wildflowers. They make me smile. I was wishing more people would come to share the smiles and the wildflowers when X heard the barking. Although I would have preferred to continue thinking about the flowers, I thought perhaps it was Jim who was making the noise, and that he might have found the hermit. But it was not the hermit he found."

  "No, the hermit is the man we just left. Don't worry, I'm sure he won't disappear. We'll find him after I see what's going on with Jim."

  "That man was the hermit?" Tiffany asked easily, an insight that sent a little zing of annoyance through me. There I was sweating and panting like Jim after the one time I'd made him run with me on the beach, and she wasn't even looking hot. "Are you sure? He did not seem like a hermit to me."

  "Nor me, but he says he's Gyorgy Berto. I haven't checked his identification yet, but I don't see any reason for someone to lie about being him. He didn't seem to know who I was, or even that the amulet was on its way to be delivered. Which way?"

  She pointed to the right. We ran down a narrow, lesser-used path around the far perimeter of a fenced area. Beyond it, in a bed of ferns growing in the shadow of an ancient oak tree, lay Jim, groaning and gagging. Rene was squatting next to the big black shape, out of range of the demon's vomiting but close enough to put his hand on Jim's back.

  Rene looked up when we approached. "Bon. I had hoped when I saw Tiffany racing away that she would find you."

  "All right, Jim," I said, stopping behind it, crossing my arms as I looked down to where it Lay groaning. "What is it this time? You're so faint with hunger that you can't stand up anymore? You want me to carry you to the nearest McDonald's, right? You're—"

  Jim's back arched as the demon in dog form vomited violently.

  Tiffany made little mewling noises, both of her hands over her mouth.

  My irritation at what I had assumed was Jim putting on an act quickly turned into horror. The demon wasn't playacting; it was having a severe reaction to something. Ignoring the slimy results of the dry heaves now racking the demon's body, I knelt down and put my hands on Jim's head. "Oh, my god, whal is it? What happened?"

  Jim's body shook. I stroked the big black head, using the drool cloth to wipe away the long tendrils of saliva that hung from its flews, "I—I—food. Was hungry. Over there."

  Rene turned to look at the feeding station. A partially spread bale of hay sat next to a couple of long wooden troughs holding what I assumed was fodder for the deer and other hoofed animals.

  "You ate something from the animals' feeding station?" I asked as Rene hurried around the enclosure to enter it. "What did you eat? Jim?"

  The demon's eyes rolled back in its head as its body convulsed again. T swore, looking around for help, for a handy vet to miraculously appear and offer his services.

  Miracles, I have had occasion to note, seldom happen when you want them.

  'Tiffany, can you take Jim's back legs?' I asked, sliding my arms around the demon's big chest. "If Rene carries its middle, I think we can get it back to the entrance. There's got to be a vet who serves the park. Maybe he can help Jim."

  Rene met us as Tiffany and I staggered around the fence. He stuffed a bulging handkerchief into his pocket as he wrapped his arms around Jim's sagging middle. "I took a little bit of everything. It is food for the deer, but it could be poisonous, yes?"

  "I have no idea," I grunted, Jim's heavy weight pulling painfully on my back and shoulders. I had to keep blinking back tears that pricked behind my eyes, tears that I knew were ridiculous. Demons can't die. The form they take can be destroyed, but they themselves can't die. I didn't know quite exactly what they did if life was extinguished from their temporary body, but I suspected it wasn't anything pleasant. More to the point, I knew Jim loved its body. It had chosen a Newfie above all other forms because it thought them the most handsome of all sentient beings. While most demons chose a human form to appear in—humans being the most powerful of all the mortal world—Jim chose to become a dog, and I would be damned before I let that big, shaggy, lovable body be lost.

  By the time we made it to the entrance, even Tiffany was red-faced and puffing a little. We set Jim down on a bench while I ran to the entrance booth, Tiffany alongside me to act as translator.

  "Is there a vet here?" I asked, waving my hand toward the bench where Jim lay unconscious, Rene hovering protectively next to it. "My dog accidentally ate some of the deer food, and it's sick, very, very, sick. Can someone help us?"

  Tiffany translated quickly to the woman taking money from visitors. The woman looked alarmed, craning her head to peer around me to see Jim, but I knew from the way she shook her head that her answer wasn't a good one. I spun around, scanning the area, praying for some sort of miracle even while I knew there was none.

  Tiffany lightly touched my arm. "The woman, she says the vet comes to visit only on special days."

  My stomach lurched. A couple of tears escaped my eyes to roll down my cheeks. I bit my lip, trying to push back the horrible knowledge that Jim's body was dying. I had to do something. I was its demon lord, for heaven's sake—it was my responsibility. I had summoned it, and although I had inadvertently bound it to me, it was my duty to look after the big hairy lug.

  "Then we're just going to have to go find the nearest vet," I snarled, running back to Rene. We lifted the demon between us, hauling it out to the parking lot. Tiffany, who had returned to consult with the woman behind the entrance kiosk, ran past us to the car, opening the back door and helping us put Jim in.

  "There is a veterinarian a few kilometers down the road," she said, sliding into the front seat next to Rene. "I will direct you."

  Jim's head lolled senselessly on my lap as Rene drove. I gave up fighting the tears, stroking the demon's head, holding back sobs that made my throat ache. Crying wouldn't help Jim. Only a miracle, the miracle that had not materialized in the wildlife park, could help the demon now.

  An hour later we emerged from the loud and somewhat antiquated confines of the animal health clinic mentioned to Tiffany by the wildlife park attendant. Despite the heat of the day, I felt cold, both inside and out. I rubbed my bare arms as we walked slowly to Rene's cousin's taxi.

  'The demon Jim, he will be all right now," Rene said with mock cheerfulness that I knew was intended to impart reassurance. 'The doctor said that would be so, heinV

  "I guess," I answered, not willing to burst Rene's bubble in case he really did believe Jim was out of trouble. What the vet had said, duly translated by Tiffany, and later Rene when Tiffany couldn't stand the animal surgery area, was that the vet thought Jim had ingested a toxic plant or berry, but wouldn't know until they analyzed the results of the stomach pumping. Rene turned over the handful of grain and plant matter he had culled from the deer trough. I stood silent, watching Jim's still unconscious form, my hand on its neck. Beneath the fur, the demon's heart beat slowly, I closed my eyes and opened myself up, trying to touch its spirit, but there was nothing there for me to hold.

  "Is it over?" Tiffany asked, white-faced, clutching her hands as she stood next to the taxi. "The demon Jim, it is..."

  "Resting," I answered when her voice trailed off. I blinked back a couple more tears, this time of gratitude that Tiffany would be so concerned about a demon she'd just met. '*The doctor thinks they got all the toxins out, but he said Jim would be out of it until tomorrow mom-ing."

  'That is very good," she said, taking my hand in hers for a moment. "Resting is very good for animals, is it not? The demon, it will recover its strength, and be back by your side to bring joy and happiness to everyone it meets."

  I almost cho
ked on the thought of Jim bringing joy and happiness to anyone, but smiled and said nothing, sitting in the back of the taxi, allowing Tiffany's terminally optimistic chatter to wash over me as we drove back into town.

  It was only when Rene dropped us off at the hotel that I remembered I hadn't delivered the amulet to Gybrgy the hermit.

  14

  The lunch banquet had just ended when Tiffany and I walked into the hotel lobby. She murmured something about needing to spend some time in the sun perfecting her tan.

  "A day without the sun is like a day without a smile shared with everyone you see, and that is a tragedy, don't you think? I will practice my ice princess smile while I am on the verandah. Do you wish to join me?" she said, eyeing my pale, freckled arms.

  "No, thanks. I've got appointments this afternoon, and besides, I burn easily. My smile will just have to be shared from the confines of a pasty, tanless body. Thanks for all your help today, Tiffany. I really appreciate it."

  She patted me on the shoulder. "Did I not tell you that I would be of great use to you? Now you know the power of a professional virgin."

  "It is an awesome thing to behold," I agreed, without one single quiver of my lips, which I thought was awfully darn good of me. Tiffany tripped off to her room. I checked the conference message board quickly in case either of the two Guardians with whom I had arranged interviews had begged off, but there was nothing for me.

  As I approached the elevators, a familiar man passed me, pausing to say, "You will—"

  "Stop it right there!" I yelled, interrupting Paolo the Diviner before he could cause any more trouble for me. People in the area turned to look at us. I lowered the volume of my voice, but kept my tone as mean as I could. "] have no idea why you've decided to become my personal voice of doom, but I would appreciate it if you would stop telling me that I'm going to trip, or spill stuff on myself, or be arrested, or any of the thousand other disasters I'm sure you behold in my future, because frankly, don't want to know. OK?"

  Paolo looked offended. His nostrils flared. He backed up a step, looking down his long nose at me, his lips pressed together tightly.

  "I'm sorry to be so brusque," I said, realizing I had insulted him. "And I want you to know that I appreciate your concern for my well-being"—a little white lie never hurt anyone—"but I will take my chances with life on my own."

  He said nothing, just raised a supercilious eyebrow at me.

  "Thank you," I said, figuring that he might leave me alone if I thanked him for his effort. "Uh ... have a nice day."

  Paolo continued to stare silently at me as I made a little good-bye wave and walked toward the elevator.

  I got in it with three other people, all chatting about the delicious lunch served at the banquet. Paolo continued to stand like a statue, staring at me with cold, dark eyes.

  The doors started to close, I heaved a mental sigh of relief that I had escaped his dire prognostications.

  u—face one who wishes you gone," Paolo finished, triumph flashing across his face as the elevator doors closed with a soft swoosh.

  "Like that's some sort of news flash," I muttered, smiling a toothy smile when the woman next to me cast a questioning glance at me.

  It was odd walking down the long hotel hallway without Jim at my side. Since I had summoned the demon, just a little more than a month before, we hadn't been parted for longer than a few hours. Yes, it was a demon, and yes, it wasn't technically alive, but smart mouth, nagging tendencies, and demands for frequent feeding and walks notwithstanding, it was also my friend. I missed the big hairy galoot.

  "My room is going to seem awfully empty without Jim taking up all the space," I said softly to myself as I slid the plastic key card into the slot on my door, opening the door with plans of a quick shower before I ran downstairs to meet with the two Guardians. "Hell's bells! Not again!"

  The room was indeed emptier without Jim—extremely empty. Of all my possessions, that is. Everything of mine was gone—my suitcases, my clothing, Jim's paraphernalia, everything! It was as if someone had come in and wiped the room clean of me.

  I turned on my heel and started for the front desk, growling to myself about what I was going to say to the police. "How dare they confiscate my things! It was bad enough in Paris when they took my stuff, but at least they mailed everything back to me a couple of weeks later. This time, I'm going to get pushy. I'll go straight to the U.S. Embassy and demand that they—hi, Istvsin."

  Drake's red-haired bodyguard gave me a stiff bow, his muddied hazel eyes as hard as stone. Istvan had never really forgiven me for a slight accident that resulted in him being mistaken by me for a dartboard. I couldn't blame him for being a bit testy over that, although I had apologized profusely at the time. No permanent damage had been done, but Istva~n hadn't seemed to be able to move on. "I am sent to bring you."

  I glanced at my watch. "It's only a little after one. Drake said the green dragon party wasn't until seven."

  IstvAn looked like a bodyguard. Both he and Pal were as tall as Drake, but where Drake was elegant and exuded a sense of coiled power held in check, Istv&n was blocky and thick-muscled, looking more like a cross between a bodybuilder and a linebacker. His heavy brows remained in a straight line as he glared at me. "You come. The wyvern commands."

  "Oh, he commands me?" I was in no mood to go head-to-head with Drake, not when I had a police department to tackle, two Guardians to meet and sway with my perfectness for an apprenticeship, and a vast amount of worrying to do about Jim. Suddenly it seemed like too much for me* so rather than get prickly and tell Istvan just where Drake could stuff his command, I nodded wearily and followed him silently to the elevator, saying nothing until he pushed open the door to the green dragon's suite.

  Right there in the middle of the living room was a blanket folded into a dog bed, Jim's traveling foldable water bowl sitting next to it, along with the demon's extra drool bibs, its brush, spare leash, and the couple of copies of People that Jim insisted I buy to keep it from being bored.

  I burst into tears.

  Istvan looked at me like I was covered in boils. Pal emerged from a room and hurried over, his face twisted in concern. "Aisling, what is wrong? Are you in pain? Has someone harmed you? Drake is not here, but I can call him—"

  "No, it's OK," I sniffled, pulling a few tissues from the box he offered. "It's just been kind of a long day."

  He looked at a clock sitting on a nearby gateleg table. "It is just an hour past midday."

  "I know." I blew my nose as discreetly as I could. "That's what worries me. What did Drake want, and why do you have Jim's things? Do you have mine as well?"

  Pa"l nodded, gesturing toward the double doors that led to the master bedroom. "Drake said that now you had accepted him as wyvern, you would be living with us."

  Istvan muttered something under his breath before throwing himself down in a nearby chair. I ignored him. I'd have to make my peace with him at some point, but I was too tired to struggle with him now,

  "Drake was being presumptuous, but I'll take that up with him. At least now I don't have to battle the police on top of everything else." I started to turn toward the room, but P6I reached out a hand as if he was going to stop me, then snatched it back quickly. I gave him a curious look. "Did you want something?"

  He glanced nervously at Istvan, who promptly grabbed a Hungarian magazine and started reading it. "It is just that you seem .. . sad."

  "I am sad. Jim is in a vet clinic on the outskirts of town. It ate something poisonous and almost destroyed its body. I'm very worried."

  "But even if it does need to take a new form, the demon will be the same," Pal said helpfully.

  I nodded, then shook my head, then ran my fingers through my hair. My activities with Drake the night before hadn't left us time for much sleep, and with everything else going on, my brain was starting to feel a bit ragged around the edges. "I know, but it won't be Jim. I'm going to take a shower, then I have to leave for a bit. If you see
Drake, tell him,.." I struggled to think of something that wasn't too snarky but would let Drake know I didn't appreciate him taking the high hand with me. "Tell him I'll talk to him about this tonight."

  Istvan said something I didn't understand- I cocked a questioning eyebrow at Pal. Not only was he friendlier than Istvdn, his English was as good as mine.

  Pal looked uncomfortable and didn't meet my eyes. "He said that there would be much talking tonight."

  Istvan snorted. I decided to ignore him, feeling a shower and possibly a quick nap would do more for me than figuring out a surly bodyguard.

  My first appointment went off without any disasters striking me—Paolo didn't stop by to give me another warning, Drake didn't show up to go bossy on me, and Jim wasn't there to say inappropriate things at the very worst moment.

  Despite all that, it was a complete failure.

  "L will make a note of your phone number," Fiona the Scottish Guardian said, giving me a look that pretty much said she'd rather consort with a demon lord than ever give me a jingle. "As I said at the beginning of the interview, I have many applicants hoping to gain an apprenticeship with me, so the competition is naturally very intense."

  "Understood. And thank you for considering me. It sounds like your program of training is very comprehensive." I drew a line through her name on my mental list of potential mentors. The only good thing that had come out of this interview was a nugget of information regarding the ritual examination that all would-be apprentices must pass in order to be formally accepted. I stood and shook hands with Fiona, waiting until she left before looking at the name on the back of a business card she'd handed me.

  "Marvabelle O'Hallahan" was written in Fiona's neat script.

  My heart sank. I was contemplating just how horrible this ritual could be with Marvabelle in charge (my imagination is way too good for my peace of mind) when a shadow moved over the card.