“Cy,” I said, giving her a warning look.

She sniffed and feigned interest in a picture on the wall.

“My house, my perfectly nice house with an expensive security system that was installed after my lair was repeatedly burgled—” Kostya shot me a meaningful look, pausing with dramatic grace for a few seconds. “My charming and well-furnished house was destroyed sometime during the night. When I returned to it from the airport, I found nothing but the scorched remains of what was once a desirable residence, miles of crime-scene tape, and several extremely thorough arson investigators who interviewed me extensively for the last five hours. That, my annoying little water sprite, is why I am here rather than where I would much rather be.”

Cyrene stiffened at the water sprite comment, but a warning pressure on her arm reminded her of her party manners and she harrumphed her way over to a chair in the corner, all the while giving her ex-boyfriend a look that would probably have killed a mortal.

“Your house burned down? What—oh, I’m sorry. Kostya, do you know Kaawa, Gabriel’s mother?”

Kostya stiffened for a moment, then swung around to flash an overly bright smile at Kaawa. He bowed, saying, “I have not had that pleasure, although I have met her mate on more than one occasion.”

Kaawa had been standing at the stairs watching the scene, joined by Jim, who evidently had been woken by the noise. She came into the room now, acknowledging Kostya’s bow, her eyes bright on him for a few moments before she said, “Yes, I remember. You almost killed him twice.”

“Awkward,” Jim said, snuffling Kostya’s shoes before plopping its big butt down on my left foot. “Heya, Kostya. You have fun in Paris?”

“He wasn’t in Paris, nosy demon,” I said, shoving Jim off my foot. My toes had gone to sleep. “He was in Latvia with us, remember?”

“Yuh-huh. But you can’t tell me that he hasn’t been in Paris in the last twelve hours, because there’s no place other than the City of Lights that leaves such a pungent scent on shoes.”

Kaawa and I both looked at Kostya, who was suddenly intently interested in picking a piece of fluff from his sleeve.

“Did you take a flight that went through Paris?” I asked, not sure why it mattered.

“You don’t get it, May,” Jim said before Kostya could answer. “He’s been in Paris. In the city, not in the airport. Out walkin’ in the . . .” He snuffled Kostya’s nearest shoe again. “Smells like the Fourteenth Arrondissement.”

“I don’t believe there’s a law against going into Paris,” Kostya said dryly.

“No, of course not,” I agreed. “Although you gave the impression that you’d returned to England straight from Latvia. Speaking of which, how is your lair?”

His eyes narrowed on me. “Why do you ask?”

“If your house burned, I expect your lair was endangered. Unless it was deep underground, and heavily protected from everything short of planetwide destruction, like Gabriel’s is.”

His nostrils flared. “Gabriel has a lair in London? I thought that was in New Zealand.”

Dammit. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to let it be known that Gabriel had a new lair. Still, there was nothing Kostya could do about it; the lair was well protected, even with the remains of a destroyed house on top of it. “He had a new one built to house the shards while we were assembling them.”

“Interesting,” he said, turning away as Drake emerged from belowstairs.

“You didn’t answer my question,” I pointed out.

“I’m aware of that.” He strolled over to greet his brother, dismissing us.

“Just as if we were unimportant gnats,” Cyrene called from her corner exile, her eyes shooting evil looks at his back. “How in the name of Neptune am I supposed to stay in the same house with him?”

“What’s so important about Paris?” I mused aloud, wondering if Kostya avoided my question about the state of his lair simply because dragons hated to answer questions asked of them, or if he had an ulterior motive to not address the issue. “Cy, does Kostya have a house there?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she said, sniffing irritatedly as she continued to glare at Kostya. Her voice rose noticeably. “I have washed out of my brain any and all facts about such a detestable, loathsome, two-faced, hypocritical, self-serving, traitorous—”

“I think you made your point,” I said.

“You forgot slimy, disreputable, and untrustworthy,” Jim told Cyrene.

“—slimy, disreputable, and untrustworthy dragon!” she finished in a yell.

Kostya’s back stiffened.

“I’m going swimming!” she added, stomping on the floor as she leaped to her feet and stormed toward the stairs to the basement.

“Don’t drown,” Kostya said in a voice so sweet it could choke a moose.

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.”