"What does Pilar look like?" Paen asked.

Noelle translated the answer. "Medium height, dark hair and eyes. He had a monkey with him, a small monkey."

"A monkey?" I gawked for a moment.

"How very odd," Clare said, peering around Finn's shoulder to look at Reuben. "The man who shot me had a monkey. And you said you saw a monkey before, didn't you, Sam?"

"Yeah. What sort of a monkey was it?" I asked the poltergeist.

"Small monkey," came the answer.

"Was its name Beppo, by any chance?" I asked, aware that Paen had moved away from me and was looking out the window to the street below.

"Yes."

"Oooh," Clare said, coming out from behind Finn. "How eerie is that?"

"Not terribly eerie," I answered, nibbling my lip for a moment. "But I'm willing to bet my entire savings that this Pilar guy is one and the same as our two monkey men."

Noelle looked surprised. "You were shot?" she asked Clare.

"Yes. My Versace is completely ruined," Clare answered, her chin rising in a militant manner. "I'd like to meet this Mr. Pilar again. In a closed room. Just him and me and a garden hose."

Noelle squinted for a moment at Clare, and then nodded. "Oh. Faery. That explains it."

"I am not!" Clare protested.

We all ignored her. A few more questions determined that Reuben had no more information for us, so Noelle dismissed him with the warning not to come back. She warded the doors and windows as an additional line of defense.

"It won't keep out a really powerful being, but it should help keep out any statue-seeking poltergeists," she told us as she was leaving. She paused for a minute at the door, tipping her head to the side as she considered the four of us standing in the living room. "Does this remind anyone of a movie?"

"Eh?" I asked, confused, my attention divided between making plans and watching Paen look out the window.

"A bird statue that everyone seems to want, a private investigator named Sam, a partner who was shot—doesn't that ring any bells with you?" Noelle asked.

"No," Clare answered, frowning.

I smiled at Noelle, having watched more of a classic movie channel than my cousin. "Just call me Bogey."

She laughed and wished us all luck, leaving with a little wave.

"Now what do we do?" Clare asked, looking from Paen to Finn to me.

I stifled a yawn. "I'll check the databases for any information on a man named Pilar, especially in relation to objets d'art. You can—"

"Go to bed," Paen interrupted, finally turning away from the window. He picked up his coat, giving me a long look as he did so. "It's late. You're tired."

"I'm not," I started to protest, but stopped when Paen tipped my chin up so he could look deep in my eyes.

His thumb stroked over my cheek briefly. "Now there are dark circles under your eyes. You need to sleep before you try to do any more investigating."

"Bed! What a wonderful idea. I wholeheartedly endorse it," Clare said, pulling Finn backward into her room. "We can work in the morning. Or later in the morning, since it's morning now."

"You're leaving?" I asked Paen, a little shaft of pain turning in my chest. "I won't deny I could do with a little rest, but I thought you… I thought we were going to…"

"Your flat is well warded, and Finn will protect you both from anything that manages to get past them," he answered, giving his brother a quick nod before the latter was hauled into Clare's room, the door slamming behind them.

"I don't need protecting by any man," I said grumpily. I wanted to pretend it was because I was annoyed at all the distractions, but the truth was that I didn't want Paen to leave. There was something about him that felt so… right. Like we fit together seamlessly. "Besides, I think Finn's attention will be elsewhere."

"Regardless, you need sleep, not sex."

"Maybe I need both," I said a bit tartishly, annoyed with his high-handed attitude.

He just gave me a look.

"Oh, all right, I admit I'm a little tired, but in defense I'd like to point out that the activities in which we were engaged ended up with me drifting off just as I've done every other time."

"I'd only just started," Paen said, looking annoyed as well. "I didn't have a proper chance."

"Mmm. Well, guess the point is moot since you're ordering me to bed." I started toward my bedroom, pausing to look back as he opened the front door. "Mind if I ask what you're going to be doing while the rest of us are sleeping?"

"Yes, I do," he said, closing the door firmly behind him.

You rat fink, I yelled at him, only just refraining from slamming my bedroom door.

He smiled. Right into my head. It was such a sweet, gentle brush against my mind, I thought for a moment that I'd imagined it.

Chapter 8

"There you are. I wondered if you were going to show before noon." I smiled at Clare as she bustled into the office, a fresh bouquet of mixed flowers in her hand.

"Of course I'm here! Where did you think I'd be?" She plucked out the remains of yesterday's mostly eaten bouquet and took the vase down the hall to the bathroom for fresh water.

"Well, given that you and Finn were at it all night, I'm surprised you're here at all," I said when she returned.

"Hmph," she snorted, plopping the fresh flowers in the vase. "You're just jealous because your boyfriend left you and mine didn't."

"I don't have a boyfriend. Paen is not a boyfriend. He is a client. I admit we have a personal situation going on, but it's nothing permanent."

"So you say. What have you been doing this morning, Miss Productive?"

I tossed a folder onto her desk, stretched, and looked out the window at a rare sunny May day.

"Quite a bit, actually. I ran out to Mr. Race's house first thing this morning to see what it knew about his manuscript, but came up empty there."

"Was it like Finn's castle?" she asked, leafing through the pages of the report I'd typed up and printed.

"No, the house remembered a manuscript, but the memory was fuzzy, as if it was from a long time ago. The housekeeper let me look around, but there wasn't anything else to pick up. I did get the name of the appraisers who worked on Mr. Race's collection a few years ago. I was just about to drop by their offices and see if I couldn't wheedle a peek at their report on the manuscript, but if you don't have other plans, perhaps you could do that while I go talk to the local expert on mages."

"Mages?" Clare's nose wrinkled as I scooped up my purse and jacket. "Why on earth do you want to talk to someone about mages?"

"Read the second report. While you've been romping away half the morning in bed with Finn, I found a morsel of information about the Jilin God statue. Turns out it's older than I thought—and has mystical origins. There are not a lot of details about it available—"

"You can say that again," Clare interrupted. "I've researched that thing for three days now without finding so much as a solid description of it."

"—but I did find an obscure reference to a mage who supposedly possessed it before it disappeared. It's not a big lead, but other than scrying, it's the only avenue I have to pursue right now."

Her eyes got huge. "You're not going to scry, are you?"

"Stop looking so frightened. I told you I had it under control," I reassured her. "But just to make you rest easier, I'm going to have Jake with me when I try it. Just in case."

"Oh, Sam, I wish you wouldn't—"

I let her work it out of her system (there's nothing quite as pathetic as a frustrated faery), but in the end, did what I had intended to do all along. I did admit there was some validity to her concerns, however, and swore to be careful and to not scry without a spotter. "Jake'll be there for me," I told her as I was leaving.