Kostich interrupted her with an invective that had her spitting little balls of fire at him. “The sword belongs to mages!”

  “It belongs to whoever holds it, and that’s me,” Kostya corrected, and would have continued, but at that moment the door at the top of the stairs was flung open, and a stream of red demon dragons poured into the club.

  “Give me the sword,” Jovana cried, running forward, one of her hands drawing protective wards. The other she held out toward Kostya.

  He hesitated for a moment, his gaze moving between the dragons that raced down the stairs to him, flickering over to where Drake stood protectively in front of Aisling.

  “I can use it,” Jovana snapped, gesturing impatiently. “You can’t!”

  With only a morsel of regret, he tossed her the crystal, running back to the dead dragon to pull from his chest the sword he’d used earlier. Piotr, covered in blood and sweat, and with an arm that was clearly broken, staggered forward with the other sword. Kostya gave him a nod of approval, and turned to face the onslaught, ignoring the agony of his shoulder and ribs.

  He had to admit later that Jovana wielded the mage sword well. It positively sang as it beheaded, maimed, and disemboweled the attacking demonic-dragon hybrids. Drake, who managed to take a morning star and a small ax from a pair of dragons that Jovana had decapitated, leaped into the fray with a cry that Kostya remembered from his youth. Kostich moved behind them, arcane blasts exploding with brilliant blue-white light that flashed like an overpowered strobe, leaving Kostya with black spots before his eyes.

  Well behind them, standing on top of a table, Aisling cast wards on any of the demon red dragons that made it past Kostya, Drake, and the mages.

  The pain started to overwhelm Kostya. He had shifted into dragon form several times, drawing on the strength inherent in his primal being, but after what seemed an eternity, the injuries started to catch up with him. Piotr had long since retreated to stand with Aisling, but was now crumpled on a booth seat, blood streaming to the floor. Kostya had no time to do more than make sure Piotr was alive before he continued defending the club from the attackers.

  Just as the inky spots began to clump together and partially blind him, the wave thinned to a trickle of dragons. By the time the last one had been dispatched, he knew he was very close to passing out. “What Helene said ...” He staggered a few steps to the side when he tried to reach Drake. “... was true. Those were demons.”

  “Not demons. But not dragons,” Drake said, sweat and blood streaking his face. He glanced back to check on Aisling, who gave him a weary smile before turning to Piotr with a damp cloth. “Your description of hybrid seems to be apt, as they are definitely a mix of both.”

  “Dragon hunters,” Dr. Kostich snarled, his voice rough from invoking the verbal element of the spells. He, too, was covered in sweat and blood, but he had enough energy to give both Drake and Kostya a foul look.

  “No,” Drake said, shaking his head. “Dragon hunters do not let their demon side take control. These were something else. Something ... evil.”

  “Whatever they are, they had their origin in the red sept,” Kostya said, meeting his brother’s gaze. “Which makes me wonder just where Jian is.”

  “If they are dragonkin, then I expect you to resolve the issue of their existence,” Dr. Kostich said, his voice as sharp as a razor. “I will not have them attacking the L’au-dela.”

  Kostya eyed him for a few seconds, too tired to even feel enraged by such an outrageous slander. “They aren’t dragonkin, as my brother just said. They are other.”

  “Something needs to be done with them,” Jovana said, watching as a few of her entourage limped up the stairs to make sure the street was clear. She hesitated a second, looking at the crystal in her hand, the mage sword having returned to its quiescent state. “You yielded this sword to me in a time of need, but I am no thief. This is a relic of magedom, however, and I would ask that you grant its care to me.”

  “Jovana!” Dr. Kostich sounded as outraged as he looked. “The sword is ours! You need not ask permission to keep what can only be used by a mage. Dragonkin, with the exception of that behemoth Baltic, cannot use it. They wish to hold it just as they hold every other valuable—because they can.”

  She ignored him, meeting Kostya’s gaze. He noted that she looked a bit battered, but had obviously fared better than any of the rest of the front line. He studied her face for a moment, then shifted his gaze to Drake. Drake frowned, grimaced, then, with a slight shrug, nodded.

  “Very well,” Kostya said, too weary to really care what happened to the blighted thing. There was a slight satisfaction in knowing that it would enrage Baltic to know the sword had been returned to the mages, but true enjoyment of that fact would have to wait until such time as he healed up. “Keep it safe, Venediger.”

  A ghost of a smile passed over her lips as she tucked the crystal away. “You may rest assured that I will do so, dragon.”

  “What are we going to do now?” Aisling asked a little while later, as they stood outside the club, waiting for their respective cars.

  “Go home, and heal,” Drake said, wincing as he flexed a swollen hand.

  “And the red demon dudes?” she asked, looking from him to Kostya, who wanted nothing more than to pour himself into bed, and sleep for approximately half a year.

  Silence settled around them.

  “We will contact Jian,” Drake said finally. “He must have the answers we seek.”

  Kostya had a premonition that it wasn’t going to be quite that simple.

  My dear Friia,

  I would express surprise regarding the language of your latest message, but then I remembered to whom you are married, and all was made clear.

  Despite your accusations, I have been forthcoming with information. Plainly stated, the dragonkin are in peril. In addition to that, one of the lords of Abaddon has seen fit to meddle with them.

  A word in the ear of one of his minions will hopefully make my children realize the truth of what is happening.

  Your devoted brother despite the allegations of withholding “the good details,”

  First Dragon

  THREE

  DIARY OF EFFRIJIM, DEMON SIXTH CLASS AND ALL-AROUND STUDMUFFIN

  Day 584,171

  The day started out well. I mean, how can you find fault in a morning spent lying in the sunshine in the garden of a French cottage, your beloved by your side, gently snoring and twitching while she dreams? Yeah, nothing beats that, especially when your beloved’s dog mom, Amelie, trots out to the garden with a tray filled with noms.

  “Jim, no! You had your breakfast,” Amelie scolded when I left the patch of morning sun and ambled over to see what she had under the starched white cloth covering a tray. “This is mine.”

  “Yeah, but Cecile and I had a long walk around the garden already, and what with all the walks you make me go on, I’ve got to be dropping weight like mad. You don’t want me to end up nothing but skin and bones, do you? Oooh, croissants? Is that from the boulangerie down the road, the one with the pains au chocolat?”

  “Chocolate is poisonous to dogs, as you well know,” Amelie said, slapping at my nose when I tried to ascertain what type of croissant it was. “Jim, I said no! Croissants are not on the list of foods that Aisling said you may eat.”

  “Bah. She’s been brainwashed by some deranged vet who worries way too much about cholesterol. Have you ever heard of a dog having high cholesterol? Me either. It’s madness, Amelie, pure madness, and oh, since I seem to have gotten a bit of drool on that croissant right at the edge of your plate, I’ll just eat it, shall I?”

  “Jim!” she repeated in a dismayed tone, but I knew the truth. She loved me almost as much as Ash did. “What I will tell Aisling when I take you home is beyond the understanding. No, you may not have jam with the croissant you conveniently set upon with your lips. Are your things packed? We will leave after we have our morning promenade around the town.”

  “Yeah, I’m packed, although if you wanted to spend another week out here, I wouldn’t mind.”

  She paused in the act of sipping coffee, her brows a little pulled together. “I have never known you to not wish to return home at the end of one of our delightful holidays. Is something wrong between you and the green dragons? Do you fear the lecture of Aisling when she sees that you have gained the pounds rather than have lost them?”

  “I’m as fit as I ever was, what with all the walkies we take. Hey, speaking of that, can you put a blanket in that kids’ wagon that I found in the shed yesterday? Cecile might like to ride in that when we go for our walk. I’d pull it if you liked. Her legs are so short, you know. Those walks are a bit tough on her.”

  Amelie stared at me for a moment, then gave a moist sniff, and to my surprise—mortals, man, you just never know with them—leaned down and kissed the top of my head before offering me half a croissant. One without jam, I couldn’t help but notice. “Jim, just when I begin to question why I spend so much time catering to a demon, you say something that makes me believe in the goodness of all beings. Yes, I, too, have noticed that Cecile is slowing down on our walks, and I was intending on buying her a pram when we returned to Paris, but for today, you may pull the wagon, and she will ride like a princess in a palanquin.”

  It’s while we were out for our walkies, with Amelie having rigged together two leashes onto the wagon as a sort of harness—I wouldn’t do this for anyone but my beloved fuzzybutt—that Aisling called.

  “Yeah, babe, I’m here,” I said when Amelie put the phone on speaker. “Amelie says we should be back in Paris by dinnertime, so be sure to tell Suzanne that I’ll be starving and will need extra food to compensate for all the exercise Amelie’s been making me take. Whoa. Don’t rock the wagon, Cecile. I’m not exactly a horse.”

  “You’re not a what?” Aisling asked, then hurried on before I could answer. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. I have an odd sort of question to ask you both.”

  “OK,” I said, marching along the lane, ignoring all the tantalizing smells coming from the hedge. I didn’t want to upset Cecile, who had just snuggled back down into the blanket nest that Amelie had made for her. “I’m all over odd, girlfriend. What’s up?”

  “It’s two somethings, actually. First of all, do you know anything about some red dragons having been imbued with demonic beings?”

  “What? Man, Ash, are you at the crack pipe again? There ain’t no such thing as a demon who is also a dragon. I mean, other than dragon hunters, but those dudes are something different altogether.”

  “A what, now? No, never mind, just answer the quest. Have you heard anything about the red dragons?”

  “Nope. Not a word. Mind you, we don’t get a lot of dragon chatter out here,” I pointed out.

  “That is so,” Amelie said, turning us around so we were heading back toward our temporary home. “I, myself, have heard nothing from the Otherworld.”

  She sighed. “I thought that would be the case. The second thing is a bit more intangible. It’s probably a moot point if you guys aren’t getting any of the rumor mill out there, but ... it’s a feeling I have that I just can’t account for. Have either of you heard about something ...” She hesitated a moment. “It’s hard to pinpoint, but basically something dangerous in the offing?”

  “Dangerous? No, I have not heard anything like that,” Amelie said at the same time I answered, “You mean that thing about Asmodeus sending his legions out into the wild looking for a ring? Other than that, nope, everything’s copacetic.”

  “Jim!” Amelie said again in the same outraged tone she is wont to use around me. Aisling said the same thing in almost the same tone, although she added quite a few swear words after her initial exclamation.

  “I hope you haven’t been using that sort of language around the spawn,” I told Aisling once she sputtered to a stop. “You know how fast they pick up things.”

  “Yes, and the next time you go around muttering the words to a spell that causes profound flatulence, I will banish you for a whole month to the Akasha. Poor István still gets twitchy whenever he’s alone with the twins.”

  I may have snickered at that. István also loves me—he just likes to hide it behind a lot of dirty looks and muttered imprecations. And sometimes he takes my Welsh Corgi Fancier magazines, but I bet that’s just because he can’t resist the fuzzybutts, too.

  “What is this?” Amelie asked, her face all scrunched up with worry. “There is a legion of demons sent to look for a ring? What ring? For what purpose? Aisling, you must speak with the Guardians’ Guild about this.”

  “You bet your sweet bippy I will,” Aisling promised. “Jim, how did you hear about this? And for the love of all that’s green and scaly, why didn’t you tell me there was a legion of demons roaming around the Otherworld?”

  “I heard about it from Mehet, an old buddy from Abaddon who went dybbuk from Sally—May’s friend, you remember her?—and who hit me up on LinkedIn as a personal reference.”

  “I ... of course I remember Sally. ... LinkedIn? Demons use LinkedIn?” Aisling seemed to have a hard time with that idea.

  “We’re demons, not savages, Ash. We use LinkedIn, and Tinder, and WhatsApp, and that mobile game that’s like Scrabble, but it’s not, and you can make up dirty words to get extra points.” I gave Cecile a roll of my eyes to express just how silly humans can be, but she was snoring away on her bed of blankies, and I hate disturbing her when she’s snoozing. She gets a bit snappy if you wake her up.

  The sound of someone taking several deep breaths followed, after which Aisling said, “Amelie, do you happen to have a rolled-up newspaper or magazine handy? Something with which you can whomp Jim on the head?”

  Amelie made a little face of regret. “No, I’m afraid I do not have anything of that sort,” she answered.

  “Hey!” I said, watching her closely, just in case she suddenly found something whomp-worthy. “It’s not cool trying to drag Amelie into your demon-abusing ways. Besides, she kissed me on my head this morning. You can’t kiss me one minute and wallop me with a magazine the next.”

  “Why are the demons in the mortal world looking for a ring?” Aisling asked, the words sounding like they were spoken through gritted teeth. “Asmodeus is the premiere prince—what’s so special about this ring that he needs it when he’s plenty powerful on his own? And most of all, why didn’t you tell me this was going on?”

  “I didn’t tell you because you were in the US showing off the spawn to your family, and also, because you didn’t ask me.”

  “I’m asking you now,” she said in an overly dramatic voice.

  “Yeah, but you weren’t before,” I pointed out helpfully, adding sotto voce to Amelie, “Aisling has mom brains. The spawn wear down her normal intelligence cells and leave her a bit scattered.”

  “I do not have mom brains!” Aisling all but shouted in the phone, then immediately added (thankfully, at a lower volume), “Well, I do, but that’s only because I am a mother, and I worry about my children. And part of that worry is focused on their well-being, something that is at risk if there are demons running hither and yon. What do the demons hope to do with this ring?”

  “Do I look like the demon form of Google?” I rolled my eyes again, but Amelie was too busy taking charge of the wagon, unhooking me, and marching double time back to her little country cottage to notice. I followed behind, talking into the phone, which rested in the wagon next to Cecile. “I don’t know every demon just because I’ve been around a few years.”

  “You’re over twelve hundred years old, and don’t sidestep my questions.”

  “Oh sure, just yell out how old I am where anyone can hear. You know how sensitive I am about my age,” I told her with a martyred sniff.

  There was another “taking several deep breaths” sort of noise.

  “Effrijim, I command thee to answer my friggin’ questions and stop being a twit!”

  I sighed heavily, because seriously, did any other demon have to put up with such behavior? “I told you that I don’t know what the demons are doing other than Mehet said something about a ring, and Asmodeus wanting to lay down a curse now that His Unholy Jerkface has been banished to the Akasha.”

  “Unholy Jerk—oh, Bael? Wait, what curse?”

  “Mehet didn’t say. He just asked me for a reference, said Asmo was looking for a ring, and planning some big curse.”

  “Hmm.” Aisling clearly thought about that while we walked quickly back to the cottage. I gave Cecile’s ears a few swipes of the ole tongue just because. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would Asmodeus need a ring to cast a curse? And who is he planning on cursing?”

  “Dunno, except ...” It was my turn to be thoughtful.

  “Except what?” Aisling demanded.

  I waited until Amelie carried Cecile into the house. “It may be nothing. ...”

  “Jim, so help me—”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’ll send me to the Akasha. Like that’s anything new? I got the Hashmallim’s numbers now, babe.”

  “You do not. Except what?”

  I sighed again. Sometimes, it was hard work following the rules of demonhood. “Except there had to be a reason Mehet told me about it.”

  Silence filled the air. Well, except for the sounds of birds singing things about being happy it was summer, and bees buzzing around, and the low drone of someone mowing a lawn. I waited to see if Aisling would see what had struck me as odd.

  “Why would Asmodeus want to curse the green dragons? Or is it all the dragonkin he intends to harm? Holy merde on rye, he’d have to be insane to do that. That’s basically a war on dragons.”

  “Kinda makes you wonder, huh?” I asked, scratching a spot on my left armpit.

  “It makes me do a lot more than that,” she said softly. “I wonder if that’s what happened to the red sept. I’m going to have to tell Drake, and he’s likely to go bonkers. Oh, lord, the twins! We’ll have to get them to somewhere safe ... Did your friend say what form this curse would take? Or when Asmodeus was going to cast it? Or even why? We’ve done nothing to Abaddon! We’ve been too busy coping with Dr. Kostich, and Thala, and Baltic and Ysolde dying left, right, and center.”