Stretching in bed, Luc found himself smiling. He had plenty to grin about after last night.

A virgin no more.

He had one sexy female to thank for that. Speaking of whom, he rolled over in bed and realized that she wasn’t beside him.

Probably off hunting down some food. The woman had a healthy appetite. She possessed gusto for many things, including life.

And me.

Rising from the bed, he reveled in the cool air brushing his nude skin. In the dungeons, the heat from the molten lava running below the ground’s surface made it warmer below than above.

He’d never even imagined what something chilly would feel like and found himself eager to experience his first snow.

As a matter of fact, Luc found himself eager for a lot of things now. His life was truly about to begin. Especially since, now that he’d let go of some of his anger, he could see a future.

One with Elspeth.

He slid on a pair of pants and a shirt. Alfred frowned when he went about half dressed. The old man was probably jealous of his much younger body.

Although, truth be told, Luc hoped he appeared half as fit as Alfred at that age. His own father had been much frailer.

As he headed toward the bedroom door, he noticed a slip of paper on the floor. A scrap hastily scribbled on in red.

A note he couldn’t read. But he could guess at the contents.

The fool woman! What had she done? Because he had no doubt she’d hared off, probably acting on some vision.

And she didn’t expect to return.

Unacceptable. They were tied together. She and I, forever. The things she did would affect him. He’d die without her, mostly because he’d lay waste to the world until it killed him. He’d lost everything else in his life. He couldn’t lose her, too.

Exiting the bedroom, he didn’t hear a sound. Most definitely not Elspeth’s warming laughter. She was always happy. He understood better now that she used it as a defense mechanism against the dark things she saw. He admired her all the more for not letting despair be her constant companion.

In the face of adversity, she fought. She feared nothing. Not even the hauntings of her own mind.

The scent of her hovered. Strong, especially across the hall. A quick glance through the bedroom showed her passage. An old trail. He returned to the hall and strode to the staircase.

The treads were a gleaming wood. Nothing like the stone block steps in the castle he’d grown up in. The bannister, the same one he’d attempted to slide down yesterday, taunted. He eyed the railing. He could do this. It just required a little balance—and maybe a touch of magic.

This time, when he grabbed the rail, he used a cushion of magic to keep him from tilting. It was getting easier to allow the power to fill him up.

The dungeons never gave him much of a chance to do anything; the very ore in the stone created a dampening effect on his spells. Those he and his mother managed were but pale imitations.

Nothing fettered him now. He could truly manipulate the esoteric forces, and he used them, of all things, to have fun.

Because that was what sliding down quickly on a thin piece of wood entailed. Adrenalized pleasure.

An exuberant, “Yaaaaay,” emerged from him as he soared.

He then lost all breath as he slammed into the newel post at the bottom.

Balls first.

Kill him now. The pain proved intense.

He slumped off the rail, losing hold of his magic cushion, and hit the floor, groaning.

He really hoped that Elspeth wouldn’t choose this moment to witness his discomposure.

As he writhed, he, at the very least, expected his nosy manservant, Alfred, to appear and mock him.

However, instead, he got treated to Babette uttering a somber, “Get off the floor so I can kick your ass.”

Rolling over, he peered up at her with one eye—all he could manage as the pain radiated through him. A throb that screamed that he’d broken his cock.

The horror.

There was no sympathy or humor in Babette’s gaze. It brought a chill. He pushed up to an elbow and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Rather than reply, she posed her own question. “Where’s Elspeth?”

“I don’t know. I woke to find her gone.” He didn’t yet mention the note. Not with the sorrow and anger in Babette’s gaze. “Did you check to see if she’s in the kitchen with Alfred?”

Babette shook her head. “You already know she isn’t. Where is she? Is she still in the castle?”

“I don’t know.” The simple truth.

“You can stop it, dude. We know you’re the one who’s been kidnapping the women.”

His hand slashed through the air, magical motes visible only to him clinging in preparation. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve taken no women.”

“Liar,” Babette spat. “The evidence all leads back to this castle.”

“Impossible, and have you so soon forgotten? Maedoc already told you it was his brother.”

“Are you his brother?”

The very idea had him gaping. Luc rose to his feet and retorted, quite indignantly, “Most certainly not.”

“Then Maedoc lied. Or maybe he truly thought his sibling was to blame. But the clues tell a different story, one that leads us to you.”

Despite the accusation in her eyes, he knew the truth. “I didn’t do it.”

“Then prove it. Produce Elspeth. Unharmed.”

Didn’t Babette understand that he’d like nothing more than for Elspeth to appear? The damned note burned in his pocket. He yanked it free. “I don’t know where she is, but she left this.” He thrust the scrap at Babette, who snatched it.

Her brow furrowed as she read. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t know where she went. I was following her scent trail to this floor when you arrived. I was about to check the kitchen. You know how she is about food.”

“She’s not there. First place I looked. I checked out most of the first floor of the main house actually and didn’t find any sign of her. Her scent just goes cold by the back door.”

Now his blood truly ran cold. “Perhaps she had an early errand to run.”

“With whose car?”

“She can fly.”

A snort spewed from Babette. “She might be crazy, but even she wouldn’t take off in broad daylight. Not to mention, I don’t smell dragon anywhere. Do you?”

No, he didn’t, it was if she’d vanished into thin air. “She can’t have disappeared. Have you contacted whoever she reports to?”

“I am who she reports to.” Babette slapped a wall with an open palm, the sound sharp. “Enough with the crap. Where is Elsie?”

“I don’t know.” The simple truth, and said with a sigh because he expected what happened next.

“Then that leads me to the second reason I’m here. Lucifer, Shining One, you are under arrest on suspicion of murder, illegal use of magic against others, kidnapping, and entering the Emerald Sept territory without proper permission or declaration of species and intent.”

“You can’t be serious.” He blinked at her. “I popped out of Hell into the ruins of a castle in the mountains. Report to whom?” His spin straightened. “And as for your murder and kidnapping charges, for the last time, I didn’t do it.”

“Tell that to the king. Will you come willingly?” It was then that he noted she wore leather gloves, probably to ensure she could handle the dracinore cuffs she removed from her bag.

“You’re working with Maedoc.”

“I work for my king,” she said, dangling them. “These were a gift.”

“You do realize you’re being manipulated.” Luc couldn’t have explained how this benefited Maedoc and his brother, but surely they did it for a reason.

She approached him, hypnotically swaying the cuffs by her side.

She was small in size, but he didn’t make the mistake of thinking Babette would be easy to evade. Good thing he could use magic. Even if erratically. The dracinore worked strongly in this dimension, just its presence nearby disrupted the flow of magic around him.

He’d have to find another way to beat… He glanced at Babette’s sad expression, and he realized she didn’t want to do this. Just like he didn’t want to fight her.

She only followed orders, orders based on lies.

Someone intentionally made me look guilty.

But who would listen?

In this world, everyone outnumbered him. Only a few people ever chose to listen. One of them stood in front of him, but she was letting duty and love for her friend cloud her reason.

Yet he had to try. “Listen, Babsy,” Luc said, adopting the name Elspeth used. “I understand things might look bad right now. But I swear. I did nothing to Elspeth. I haven’t hurt anyone.”

“I wish I could believe that.” Babette shook out her hands, and the fingers turned into dragon paws tipped in sharp claws. Her face took on an alien cast, and her eyes glowed.

Luc waited for the anger to flush him hot and draw out the demon. He didn’t have full control of his other side yet. Repressed for his entire life, the ability to change shape was like a muscle atrophied from lack of use.

The rage, which helped his inner beast pulse to the surface, remained dormant.

He looked at Babette. How could he fight her? He meant her no ill will. The idea of hitting her repulsed him. Was this why his father had refused to go to war? Because it involved hurting people that hadn’t truly done anything to—

Whack.

Her solid blow to his head caught him by surprise. Because he’d not actually thought she would attack him. His jaw went sideways without his face and snapped.

Ouch.

He shook his head as he staggered. “I didn’t do anything—hey.” Luc danced out of the way of her slashing claws.

Babette ranted as she attacked. “Do you have any idea how much it pisses me off to have to do this? I trusted you, dude. Trusted you with my bestie. And I’ll tell you, it wasn’t easy to call her that. I mean, Deka will always be my main friend, but she’s got a man now. And Elsie…well, she’s a good sort. Nuts. But I actually like that about her. Plus, she’s tough. Which is why you better not have hurt her, asshole!”

Luc found himself in the position of having to defend himself against the blows. He saw a few opportunities to retaliate.

Yet he held back.

He couldn’t hit Babette. She wasn’t his enemy. She acted right now out of affection. Caring. For Elspeth.

He could understand feeling a little crazy about that because now he was getting worried. Where was his curly-haired bundle of sunshine?

“Last I saw her, she was sleeping beside me. When I awoke, she was gone.”

“Likely story. I know you two weren’t sleeping together. Elsie’s a good girl. Which is fucking rare and beautiful. If you ruined her…” Babette swung the fist with the cuffs. He ducked.

“Last night was the first time.”

Babette stopped, bouncing on the balls of her feet to snicker. “First time. That’s funny. Guess it’s been a while since we could say that.”

Given he wasn’t about to admit his shame, he turned his head.

“Holy shit.” She punched his arm. “Do not tell me you were a virgin. Two fucking virgins. Oh my God. Is that why you killed all those girls? None of them managed to get your gander going? Did you ever think of grabbing men instead?”

He blinked at Babette. “I now see where Elspeth gets some of her logic from. For the last time, I didn’t kill anyone. Or kidnap anyone. I need you to concentrate for a minute. Listen to what I have to say. Elspeth is missing.”

“Because you hid her?” Babette said on a querying note.

“No! I would kill for Elspeth. Burn the world down to ash if she asked. She is my universe. My everything. The—”

“Dude, I get it.” Babette held up a hand. “Let’s stop before you have me puking. Let’s say I believe you. That you had nothing to do with it. Explain why the evidence leads here.”

“What evidence?”

She began to tick off her fingers. “Uber records for two of the victims. Cell phone triangulation for three more. And then there’s the fact that a spectral trace done on the most recent body showed it dying in this castle.”

“What is a spectral trace?”

“If the brain hasn’t decomposed too much, there is a thing we can do. It requires a reputable medium, who doesn’t mind getting dirty in a paste made of body parts and spider spit. The medium sticks their hands in it, and they instantly know the exact location of death.”

“Do they also see the face of the killer?”

“Actually, they see nothing. Not even the death itself. But don’t think that gets you off the hook. One of those murders happened here. In this house.”

“According to your magician. Perhaps their spell is flawed because I didn’t do it.”

Babette chewed her lip. “I want to believe you, but…let’s say I do, who else could it be? Who else lives here?”

“Only Alfred and, well, you’ve met him.”

“I have. He’s a snotty sort. Where did you find him?”

“Right in this very castle. He was tending it for his previous master.”

“Don’t you mean mistress?” Babette tilted her head. “This castle was being used as a B&B by a Mrs. Chesterville. She hasn’t been seen in over two months. Not since you took over. Did you get rid of her?”

“Me?” No need to feign shock when it burst out of him in that exclamation. “You cannot blame me for her disappearance. I’ve been here less than two weeks.”

“Impossible. The girls started going missing before that.”

“Because I am not responsible. Like I’ve been saying.”

A furrow formed on Babette’s brow. “But if you’re not to blame, and Elspeth is missing, who took her?”

The cleaning crew? Some unknown agent?

“When was the last time you saw your butler?” Babette asked.

“Alfred?” Surely not.

He took off with long strides toward the area he knew Alfred had taken as his own. As he approached the door off the kitchen that led to Alfred’s quarters, he suddenly veered, heading back for the main part of the house.

He noticed Babette frowning from the door. “Where are you going?”

“Nowhere.”

“You look like you’re confused about where Alfred lives.”

“Nonsense. He lives off the kitchen, there.” He pointed over his shoulder.

“Then why are you going this way?”

“Because…” He stopped. Why had he turned around?

He peered behind him at Alfred’s door, recalling how he’d wanted to go in, but now… Why did he need to go see? How ridiculous to think an old human could have the power to abduct a dragon as capable as Elspeth.

It just wasn’t likely.

Which meant it wouldn’t hurt to look and see how Alfred lived past that door. He whirled and approached the portal and managed a hand on the knob before he was strongly reminded why he shouldn’t enter someone else’s private space.

It’s rude.

He turned away and noticed Babette close to him, gaping. “Dude, that was freaky cool. My turn. Let’s see if the door makes me walk away and look like a zombie.”

Luc didn’t understand what she meant as she stepped past him, humming, “Gonna make it to the door and open it and look at me reaching and…” She paused and pivoted, her eyes out of focus.

Utterly fascinating. “I never even saw the spell,” he mused aloud. However, now that he knew…

Luc took a few deep breaths and placed his hands together to focus. He mumbled words under his breath using the language of magic his mother had taught him, a series of guttural vowels and fluting consonants. The noise fluttered to take shape and then pulsed as he fed power into it.

A blanket of magic, a shimmer in the air, spread in front of him and moved as he took a step toward the door.

Within a pace of it, his shield quivered and appeared as a greenish mist in the air, but it worked. In the sticky web he’d cast, he’d snared the edges of the spell guarding the door.

He blew a few more words into his web, heating them with his breath, fanning them to hotly spread into the shield. It warmed, growing hotter and hotter, binding the other spell in its grasp until whoosh. The whole thing ignited, and the magical aftermath drifted like motes of sparkling dust.

“Dude, that was all kinds of cool,” Babette breathed in admiration. “No wonder Elsie likes you. You’d be awesome at parties.”

The attempt at levity did not quell his sense of urgency as he finally flung open the door leading to Alfred’s quarters.

He’d never realized the castle had two wings. The half he’d chosen to live in was vast, impressively appointed, and too much space for Luc.

That space was mirrored in this wing. It turned out that the kitchen door wasn’t the only entrance sealed by magic.

He’d never seen it.

The fact that Alfred literally lived like a king in the wing next to him astonished. The farther they penetrated, the more stunned they became. Babette was particularly impressed by the mess.

“Dude, Alfred is a massive hoarder.”

“He’s a collector, all right,” he repeated. Especially of food. Sweets reigned supreme. Rooms filled with boxes of candy. There were also chocolate bars and licorice. Minty peppermints and sour gummies. The goodies, though, were less disturbing than the room with chains dangling from the ceiling and blood on the floor, brown and black stains that obscured a drawing

He still recognized it.

“That’s a triangle of power.” He pointed.

“What does it do?” Babette skirted the waxed edges of it.

“It’s a focus to enhance a spell.” At Babette’s blank look, he expanded his description. “Magic is like a very fine powder. When gathered together, it’s dense, but without something to keep it bound, it falls apart. It’s the decay in a spell. Magic users expect it. But sometimes, to conserve magic or keep it from dispersing as quickly during bigger undertakings, a magical triangle is used.”

“What you’re saying is that this is some kind of demon magic thing?”

“Yes.” Luc exited the room with its stink of magic—and death.

“Is that your triangle?”

“No.”

“Which means, Alfred’s a demon.”

“Impossible. He smells human.”

“Dude, that is not seriously hard to fake. Follow me.”

Luc kept pace with Babette, who took the stairs to the second level with the bedrooms.

“Where are we going?” he asked. “And what did you mean that it wasn’t hard to fake? Is it possible to change one’s scent that thoroughly?”

“With today’s perfume and the science labs to create them, we can smell like anything we want. Don’t your people have a demon recipe to do the same? Some kind of magic spell?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I never had access to all our teachings.”

“But you know about some of your history and traditions.”

“As much as my mother and the others could teach me before their demise. The rest I learned from reading.”

“They brought you books?” Babette flung open doors on the second level as she asked. More spaces crammed with stuff.

“They had no choice if they wanted to learn. The dragon mages, even Voadicia, had difficulty learning our written language. Mother claimed it was because only those of the blood—demon blood,” he explained, “could read our words. When Maedoc and Eogan chose to keep me, they didn’t do so out of altruism.” They’d used Luc, bringing him books with promises of treats if he translated for them.

“Where does Alfred fit into all this?” Babette asked, pulling her head out of a room filled floor to ceiling in teetering piles of jeans.

“I don’t know.” How did a human get involved in the affairs of demons and dragons?

Babette marched down the carpeted hall, the cushion of the tight weave not allowing for a satisfying stomp. At the end of the corridor, she flung open the wide double doors.

Given Alfred’s scent was strongest here, he wondered what they would find in the master suite.

“This is way nicer than what I have,” Luc remarked, noticing a level of luxury he didn’t enjoy.

A gigantic bed with a plush, burgundy cover and plump pillows. The four-poster held diaphanous scarves, and he had to turn away lest he think of Alfred using them.

He stepped farther into the room and noted Babette lifting a lacy undergarment with the tip of her boot. “These are perfect for the sniffers.”

“Are they good at following scent?”

Babette blinked at him then snickered. “Oh, they like to smell stuff, all right. And pay to do it.”

Since he didn’t understand—and probably didn’t want to—he stepped away from the bedroom area and headed toward the bathroom. The place where a person was most likely to have their guard down—and leave a trace.

The huge, marble-covered room held an antiseptic smell.

“It’s spotless,” Babette remarked from behind him.

A little too clean given the state of the bedroom. Jars were lined up on the vanity.

Babette pulled them forth and lifted the stopper on the first jar. She smelled. “Minty with a hint of bleach. Probably for his teeth.” She went to the next. Dabbed her finger in some cream and watched her finger prune. “That is some seriously messed-up, backwards and forwards aging shit.” Indeed, making something older rather than younger. Who would do that unless…

“Hey, this cream makes it young again.” She held up her finger, now plump and healthy.

“The last one will be scent,” he predicted as she yanked on the last stopper.

She leaned down to sniff then turned her head to say. “Human. An old, human male. Not even a whiff of it being fake.” Babette straightened. “If Alfred isn’t human. Isn’t old. Isn’t anything at all, then who is he?”

“One of the dragon mages. And he’s got Elspeth!”