"Nothing," I said, quickly flipping over the little sign that stood on the edge of my desk proclaiming that a 10 percent retainer was due at the time of engagement. "We can talk fees and such after I've had a chance to get a better feel for the case, if that's agreeable with you."

His eyebrows rose for a moment, but settled down almost immediately. "As you like. When would you like to examine my home?"

"Anything wrong with right now?" I asked, standing when he did.

The surprised look was back for a moment or two in his eyes.

A straightforward woman. What a refreshing change.

I jerked as if I'd been shocked. That wasn't my inner voice speaking to me as I had assumed it was—this was someone else. Someone male, someone with a Scottish accent that made me think of Braveheart, and men wearing kilts, and wild, sexy masculinity. In other words, it made me think of…

"As you put it like that, no," Paen said, his eyes shuttered. "There is nothing wrong with right now."

Why on earth was he talking in my head? Why and how? And why didn't I particularly mind such an intimate feeling? I ignored the questions squirreling around in my brain, confident that I would work out the answers in the near future. It was just one more curious element in what I was coming to believe was a fascinating man.

"Excellent. We have another case we're presently engaged with," I said, shooting Clare a meaningful look that, judging by the confused expression on her face, went totally over her head. I gathered up my coat and tapestry bag, closing my laptop and slipping it into the bag. "But I think we can handle both cases without any difficulty. Clare, another minute of your time, please?"

Paen walked to the door as I conducted a quick whispered conference with Clare. "You don't mind if I go check out this statue thing, do you? I was going to swing by Mr. Race's house to pick up the information about the manuscript he asked his housekeeper to get for me, but I can't do both tonight. Can you work on the manuscript case by yourself for a bit?"

"Of course. I have arranged for a meeting with a fence in two hours. I can go to Mr. Race's house first, then meet the fence."

"A fence!" I stared at Clare.

"Yes. Raul the fence. He wouldn't talk to me on the phone, so I am going to meet him later tonight—"

"How on earth does an underwear-modeling faery know a fence?"

Clare gave me a wounded look. "I do wish you would stop being so silly about that faery business. And as for Raul, I met him at a party. He is a very nice man for a criminal."

Now, how on earth was I supposed to reason with that sort of an attitude? I didn't even try.

"Be careful, no matter how nice a criminal he is. I'll call you in a bit, after I check out Paen. Er.. check out Paen's house. It shouldn't take long, so hopefully I will be back in time to help you with your fence guy."

"All right," she said, her eyes worried. As I started to leave she tugged on my arm, saying in her soft, sweet voice, "Sam, I'm not sure you going to this man's home by yourself is a smart idea. He's a vampire! He's powerful! He could do any number of wicked things to you, and you wouldn't have any way of stopping him!"

I sighed as I looked at the dark figure waiting for me in the hallway. "Yeah, I know. Makes me goose bumpily all over just imagining what sorts of wicked things he could do, too. Especially with those delectable lips."

"Sam—"

"Don't worry, I'll be fine. Unless I get lucky and Paen tries to seduce me over to the dark side."

"Sam!"

I laughed and patted her arm as I passed. "Stop making that scandalized face, I'm just teasing you. Nothing is going to happen. Nothing ever happens to me, remember?"

I really hate it when my own words come back to haunt me.

"So, you're Scottish," I said by way of making polite (if inane) conversation as Paen drove us to his home.

"Yes, I am."

"A Scottish vampire… er… Dark One."

"Yes." He kept his eyes on the road as we drove into the darkness. Night had fallen fully, the air thick with the promise of more rain, the stars and moon obscured by the usual soggy clouds that I'd seen hang over Edinburgh for much of the two years I'd lived there.

"Is that unusual? I mean, I always imagined you guys were from Eastern Europe. Romania, or somewhere like that. Or is that just legend?"

His silver eyes flashed my way for a moment. "The origins of the Dark Ones are lost to us, but much of our heritage goes back to the Moravian Highlands in what's now the Czech Republic."

"Huh. Interesting." I looked outside at the black nothingness that whizzed by us as he drove beyond the suburbs of Edinburgh into the lowlands, quickly heading into the windswept hills of East Lothian on a long, empty road. "I'm Canadian. And American. Both. My dad is from the US, but my mother is Canadian, and I grew up there. I've got a dual citizenship thing going, in case you were wondering. That's how I was able to open up a business here."

He said nothing. I took that to mean he wasn't wondering about the ins and outs of my heritage.

"Did I thank you for giving me a ride to your house? Clare has a car, but she tends to start writing poetry to the stars or a flower and doesn't pay much attention to actually driving, so I really do appreciate you giving me a lift."

"Yes, you thanked me."

"Good." Silence fell between us—not a companionable, comfortable silence, but one that was fairly awkward and weighty. It itched along my skin like raw wool. "Finn was nice. Are you sure he won't mind being left in Edinburgh? I hated to rush you into leaving, but I wanted to see the house before deep night was upon us."

"No, he won't mind."

"OK." More silence. I surreptitiously picked at a fingernail for a moment, wondering why I could be silent with so many other people without feeling anything, but was bothered by Paen's silence. I mused on that for a few minutes, then decided I'd put the question to the man who sat so close to me that his hand brushed my leg every time he shifted gears (something I was very well aware of). "Paen—"

His shoulder twitched.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you by using your first name. I realize that's rather unprofessional of me, but it kind of slipped out."

"I don't mind if you call me Paen," he said, rather gruffly, I thought.

"Oh. Good. I'm Sam, by the way. Do you dislike talking to me?"

That got me a startled glance. "Pardon?"

"I wondered if you disliked talking to me. Especially since you were doing that whole non-verbal talking-into-my-head thing earlier."

Thank heavens for seat belts, that's all I can say. The belt kept me from bashing my brains out on the windshield when Paen slammed the brakes on, sending the car into a little spin in the (thankfully empty) rain-slickened road.

"Are you all right?" he asked once the car came to a stop, flipping on the overhead light so he could peer anxiously at me.

"I think so." I sat back and rubbed a spot on my neck where the seat belt had burned it. "I'm just a little shaky. Nothing like pulling a one-eighty to get your adrenaline flowing, eh?"

He didn't answer, just opened the car door and got out to look at the front of the car. I sat for a minute, figuring he was just checking on the car, but when he started walking away from me, I got out.

"Is the car OK?"

"Yes. I'm looking for the demon," he said, peering into the night. "Damn. I wish I'd thought to bring a torch."

"Demon? What demon?" I hurried over to where he stood, the car's rear lights our only illumination.

"The one that I almost hit when it jumped out in front of me. At least I assume it was a demon—it rose up from the ground, and there are few beings but demons which will do that." He frowned at me. "Do you have much experience with them?"