Part 14 (2/2)

”No.”

The word sounded sincere. But if the young man hadn't done, who had?

”May I help?”

Three of the most powerful words when one needed a.s.sistance desperately.

”How well do you know Paris?” Jeb asked, still hesitating.

”I've lived here for over ten years.”

That surprised him. Pdraig didn't look older than his mid-thirties, no doubt because he was a druid, masters at illusions. They could give the fae a run for their money.

”I have a vehicle if that will help you.” The Irishman's voice not only held a.s.surance, it offered a solution to one of the issues Jeb wrestled with-transportation.

”If you wish me to wait in the car I'll do that,” he added. ”Besides, it'll give me something to do. This d.a.m.nable business . . . I need to be doing something. Anything.”

Pdraig sounded like Jeb felt, being driven to action to break the stupor of standing around drowning in uselessness. ”Come with me, then.”

The other man smiled, straightening his shoulders and for the first time since Philippe called, Jeb felt like the fog was lifting.

CHAPTER 29.

I woke up feeling like I'd been someone's punching bag and groaned aloud as I rolled over in a strange bed, in an unfamiliar room, trying to orient myself. A slice of sun skimmed a streamlined armoire against a brick wall.

Where? Oh, yeah, warehouse. The dead man. Were attack. Bran.

I reached for my clutch purse that I hadn't lost, or someone had found for me and set on the nightstand, next to a gla.s.s water carafe and what looked like two aspirins. Thank the Spirits.

Until I realized Bran must have entered the room while I'd been asleep which, after last night, was too intimate for my stretched nerves.

At least I'd slept in my dress, not comfortable but in hindsight a smarter idea than sleeping in the buff.

An image of Bran sprang to mind, which I ruthlessly tapped down. Last night I'd been way too revealing. Enough of that. If I wanted to get Van free I needed to focus, focus, focus, on him and not a particular warlock.

Grabbing my second, or was it my third gla.s.s of water, still feeling parched, I went in search of my dubious roommates.

I had to clear up the business with Philippe Cheverill p.r.o.nto or dealing with the Council could prevent me from finding Van. I'd already come up with a plan to find the perfect witness who'd vouch that I hadn't killed the Council leader. The doctor who'd already been bending over the dying man when I reached Cheverill's side.

I should have thought of him last night but I'd been slightly distracted by a Were cougar and a s.e.xy warlock.

Today I had no such excuses.

But the moment I walked into the yawning warehouse, looking even barer by daylight than moon shadow, I knew it was empty. I didn't have my nifty Timex watch that I'd had since childhood. Francois had turned up his nose at even the hint of my wearing it with the Elie Saab dress he wrapped me in. Not that I had a clue who Elie Saab was. In fact I thought he was a she, which Francois quickly corrected.

Now I wished I hadn't listened because I couldn't tell what time it was.

It took me only a second to smell the tray with croissants, strawberries, and fresh orange juice on it.

How was I going to keep the distance I needed with Bran if he kept being thoughtful as well as too attractive? The warlock did not play fair.

Then I saw the scrawled note beneath the gla.s.s plate.

Stay put. We'll be back.

As if. But it did serve to snap some att.i.tude into my backbone.

”Give me one reason to hang around here.” I said out loud, mumbling around a sinfully good croissant. The one thing I was definitely going to miss about Paris, if I lived long enough to leave.

It took me less than thirty minutes to scrounge around in the bedroom closets to find a replacement for the dress I wore, that would have made me look like I was doing the walk of shame rather than hunting for a killer. At last I found a guy's white dress s.h.i.+rt that hung long on me but with the cuffs rolled up at least it hid the jeans that I had to double belt to stay up.

By the front door I found my frou-frou sandals that Francois had carried last night and apparently tossed aside when we'd been attacked. They might look out of place with jeans but I wasn't going to have to traipse around Paris barefoot. Again.

I wasn't being too-stupid-to-live, leaving the warehouse after my own scrawled note: Gone to find doctor. TTYL. I was being proactive, especially after I discovered there were no messages from my teammates on my phone, nor did they answer their cells. I left a message for Ling Mai on her phone but didn't bother with the others. Wasn't ignoring them, but biggest hurdle first. And that described Ling Mai to a T.

I really did miss the team backing me, but I'm sure Ling Mai was keeping them busy. Very busy if I knew Ling Mai. So I'd try them again later, once I had more concrete information to share.

I had no idea where Bran and Francois had gone, but I wasn't waiting for them to save my f.a.n.n.y. My plan was simple. Return to the museum and try a casting spell before the trail grew too cold. If I got lucky it should lead me to the doctor. Once I knew who he was then I'd contact Ling Mai and give her his name while I finished looking for Vaverek.

The way I figured it, Ling Mai was no doubt focused more on finding Vaverek and his drug connections than Van right now. That issue impacted the balance of humans realizing non-humans existed among us.

But I wasn't finished. As long as I knew in my heart that Van lived, I'd hunt for him, regardless of anyone else's agenda. And Ling Mai knew that, so I was still playing within her guidelines here. Besides, she could always track me by my phone.

Since I didn't keep a wad of cash on me, or even a credit card, I would have to walk. I used a map app on my phone to find the museum, which looked a h.e.l.l of a long ways away.

It took me a little over an hour to arrive at the Nissim de Camondo Museum, which looked more imposing by daylight than it had last night. A cross between a fortress and a statement of wealth and grandeur from a time long gone. Fortunately it was also open, a fact I hadn't thought about until I stood outside the pale beige stone building.

I had just enough funds to get into the museum and waved off the auditory guide that was included with my ticket. The young girl behind the counter, with magenta hair and three lip rings shrugged as if I was being a fool. Maybe I was.

Since the death had happened on the first level I wasn't surprised to see the large parlor blocked off with stanchions and tape. I couldn't read the words on the tape in French but it was no doubt crime scene tape and a clear no-go barrier. As if that had ever kept a Noziak out of anything. It was more like waving a red flag at us.

I paused, looking into my clutch as if I'd lost my soul, because besides my phone there wasn't a whole lot of room in it to stash much else. Maybe I should have grabbed one of the audio guides. I didn't have to turn it on but it'd give me a reason for just standing around, cooling my heels.

What I was doing was waiting for what sounded like a German grandmother and her two fidgety grandsons to leave the area. They were standing in the curl of the stairway that swept to the second floor. It was where I'd been with Bran when the older man had fallen to the floor. There was a nude Greek statue there, a very well-endowed, graphic statue that I'd totally missed last night.

Leave it to Bran to distract me so much I'd missed the art. If that's what it was called.

The two German boys were snickering behind their hands and pointing, while their grandmother memorized the guidebook clutched in her hands.

”Come on, come on,” I mumbled beneath my breath. ”Don't have all day.”

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