"Thank you."

"That painting in the foyer, is that a Chantuille?" the blonde asked.

"Chanteaux," he said. "Blackbirds in Flight."

The blonde woman placed her hand on Dorian�s forearm, slinking further away from Duchanes to give Dorian what she probably thought was a furtive look, but he couldn�t help but notice the tremor in her hand. "Maybe you could show me around? I�d love to see the other pieces in your collection."

"Ah, another time, perhaps," Dorian said, grateful to see Aiden approaching. "Lovely to meet you all. The garden paths are extensive�feel free to explore."

"You�re not coming with us?" she asked.

"I�m sorry. If you�ll excuse me, it seems another matter requires my attention."

Pulling away from her touch as well as her disappointed gaze, Dorian walked past the whole group, making a beeline for his friend.

Without waiting for Aiden to speak, Dorian grabbed his arm and dragged him through a side door that led into the massive garage.

The scent of car wax, motor oil, and tires calmed his nerves, the stately presence of his cars a familiar comfort. Thankfully, he and Aiden were alone.

"How soon before these dreadful beasts leave my home?" he asked.

"Don�t be daft. We haven�t even served the second course of appetizers."

Dorian sighed into his drink, then tipped the glass, finishing it with a gulp.

"I see Duchanes took your invitation to heart," Aiden said. "Brought the whole bloody house."

"And his� donors." Dorian�s fingers tightened on his glass, wishing he could slam it into Duchanes� smug face. The sight of those emaciated women made him want to do something violent. "And Malcolm wanted to ally with this reprobate. What the hell was he thinking?"

"I�m not sure he was."

Dorian shook his head, attempting to free himself of his thoughts, but it was an exercise in futility. The party and Duchanes both weighed on him, but so did last night�s conversation with Chernikov. He and Aiden had spent the afternoon paging through his father�s journals and walking the twisting, dark pathways of the crypts all afternoon, but if there were ever any clues to where his father had hidden the Mother of Lost Souls sculpture�or to the details of his agreement with the demons�time had long ago destroyed them.

"No one�s getting in there tonight, mate," Aiden said, as if he could read Dorian�s thoughts. It certainly felt that way; even when they were children, Aiden had always seemed to know just what to say, just how to put Dorian�s rattled mind at ease.

"If anything can ruin us, Aiden, I�m certain it�s contained in those crypts."

"Where it shall remain until you and your brothers discover and eradicate it."

"Don�t let anyone else in the garage tonight, either," Dorian said, bolting the door they�d come through. "I don�t want them breathing on my cars. I already caught the old man trying to take the Rolls Royce for a joyride."

"Armitage still has a driver�s license?"

"No, the old codger. Thankfully I got to him before he found the keys."

Aiden clapped him on the shoulder, his smile unwavering. "Sounds like you�re having a splendid evening, just as I predicted. Have you had enough to drink?"

"Just so you know, I�m holding you responsible if any of these prats steal the family jewels." JrNovels.com