Constantine frowned and, without looking at Bee, tried to step into the spirit world.

Nothing happened. The leaden weights he’d felt cast upon him kept his form as solid as any living being.

In a rush of irony considering how long Constantine had railed against being a slave to the energy needed to maintain a physical form, he wished he was back to the way he had been before the demons had found him. There was something peaceful about lounging around the spirit world rebuilding his energy.

Asmodeus’s hand did not waver, but his voice sharpened. “Return the object now.”

Slowly, wondering just how much Gary had told the demon lord, he reached into the inner pocket of his shirt and deftly manipulated the small box, sliding the desiccated finger from it. He dropped the finger onto Asmodeus’s outstretched hand.

Asmodeus looked at the finger, and lazily considered Constantine and Bee. “You risked much to seek a strange object, one that apparently has no importance to anyone but me.”

“We’re quirky that way,” Bee said, and once again, Constantine had to fight the urge to smile.

“One would almost think that it was the type of object that held meaning to you, rather than the object itself,” Asmodeus continued, his eyelids dropping until he was once again watching Constantine through half-closed eyes. The tendrils of power snapped and danced around him, leaving the air charged with static.

Asmodeus’s presence seemed to leach the heat not only from the room, but from Constantine himself.

There was a rustle of movement behind him, and a hand suddenly slid into his, cold fingers making him start. Constantine kept his face from expressing surprise that Bee would be driven by fear into taking comfort from physical contact with him. The last thing he wanted Asmodeus focusing on was her. He shifted slightly to the side, so as to better block the demon lord’s view of her. “You may think what you wish, naturally, but I will repeat that I have no parcel in your war with the dragons. Your desire to parlay with me will be of no use.”

“Parlay,” Asmodeus said softly, and gave a little smile.

Constantine braced himself against the effect of the smile.

“An odd choice of word and one that is meaningless here. What does have meaning is a former dragon seeking an object of a personal nature to me, and the presence of a Charmer who was caught sneaking around, presumably on a task of a similar nature.”

Bee’s fingers tightened around his. He squeezed hers in a silent warning against speaking. He wanted all of Asmodeus’s attention on himself. “The Charmer is mortal. She does not know the ways of the Otherworld.”

Bee gave a little gasp, but thankfully, kept silent.

“That much is obvious,” Asmodeus agreed. His gaze flickered over Constantine. “Just as it’s clear to me that dragons would not seek such an object unless there was a need for it. For instance, in the use of the breaking of a curse.”

“Oooh,” Gary said, clearly over his crying fit. “Is that what you were—”

Asmodeus shot a look at the head, who promptly swallowed what he was going to say.

“Perhaps,” Constantine said with studied nonchalance. If he could have pulled off the act of buffing his fingernails as he had with Baltic, he would have, but he knew there was no way he could face down Asmodeus in the same manner. Instead, he rallied the arrogance natural to all wyverns, and wrapped it around himself. “If that is the case, there will be others seeking the same.”

To his amazement, Asmodeus smiled a second time. It was just as painful as the first. “And they would be just as unsuccessful as you find yourself, spirit.”

Constantine was formulating a suitably vague threat as a response when Asmodeus snapped his fingers, and two wrath demons, part of the elite group that headed up all of the minor demons, burst into being, and stood attentively beside him.

“Shackle them,” he said, gesturing toward Constantine and Bee. “I do not have time to get the information I need from them until I deal with this latest situation.”

“I do not think—” Constantine started to say, but the breath was knocked out of him when the two wrath demons lunged forward, a long length of chain suddenly manifesting itself in one of their hands. He thought briefly of attacking them, grabbing Bee, and making a dash for the door that led to the mortal world, but Asmodeus, who now stood at the door watching, quelled that idea.

And so it was that two minutes later he found himself attached to Bee by means of a leg shackle, being walked (slowly, due to the chains) down a flight of stairs to Asmodeus’s dungeon.

“I am so not happy about this,” Bee muttered to him, kicking her foot so the black metal chain rattled ominously.

“Well, I think it’s a good look for you both,” said Gary, happily beaming at them from the cage that Bee still held. “You are a very nice looking couple to begin with—wait, dragons have something different than a girlfriend, don’t they. It’s a… it’s a… mate, that’s it! So you’re Connie’s mate? How long have you been together?”

“About three minutes,” Bee said, looking at her watch.

“She is not my mate. She is mortal. And a Charmer. Neither of which are qualities I seek in a mate, even if I was seeking one, and I’m not, because I had one and she opted to tear out my heart and stomp on it while rushing to the arms of another.”

“And then there’s the fact that you’re a dead dragon,” Bee said with annoying candor. “I mean, yes, I’m not getting any younger, and to be honest, I wouldn’t mind having a steady relationship with a man who wasn’t so self-centered that he couldn’t see beyond the end of his nose, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to consider that sort of a relationship with a dragon. Especially not a spirit one. That’s just… weird.”

Constantine looked at her with dislike, marveling to himself that one woman could stir so many emotions. “I’m sorry that my presence disgusts you.”

“Aww,” Gary said, giving Constantine a sympathetic look. “I don’t think that’s very nice of you, Bee. Connie is very handsome in a rugged, dangerous sort of way. Sure, he’s a spirit, but he’s a very corporeal spirit. It’s almost like he’s not a spirit at all, really. I’d certainly be happy to be his mate.” A wistful expression drifted over his face. “I don’t suppose you’d consider a male mate?”