Magoth smiled. “You can deny it all you want, my sweet one—I have seen the truth in your dragon eyes. You want me. You need me. You crave that which only I can give you.”

He was, I noted with dismay, showing signs of arousal again. I searched my mind desperately for something to distract him, not trusting the dragon shard to behave itself when he was at his randiest.

“Get your clothes on, and I’ll treat you to a bottle of Bollinger’s,” I told him.

Magoth loved Bollies, but even that wasn’t enough to drag his mind off his cursed penis. He got to his feet slowly, completely oblivious to the fact that he more resembled a muddy swamp monster than a seductive former silent-movie heartthrob. “Not even going to try to dispute the facts? Wise woman.”

“I’m not going to argue the obvious with you, no,” I said calmly, and gestured toward the direction we were headed. “Come along with us, or don’t, but make up your mind. I’m not going to stand out here all afternoon and be eaten by mosquitoes.”

“I would be happy to eat—” Magoth started to say.

“I think we can all imagine a suitably inappropriate and borderline sexually harassing comment, thank you,” I interrupted.

He leered, but checked himself almost immediately, an angry look flashing in his eyes. “May the fires of Abaddon roast that bastard Bael,” he spat out, his hands making aborted gestures of frustration. “I can’t even en-thrall you as is my due! He will pay for this, just as everyone will pay for the dishonors done to me!”

“You have nothing to complain about,” Cyrene told him as he marched over to where we were waiting. “You haven’t had your love and trust abused by the most hateful man ever!”

Magoth slid her a narrow-eyed look that, were we in Abaddon, probably would have rendered her as close to dead as an elemental being could be. She didn’t notice, however, being fully immersed in righteous indignation.

“Your clothes?” I said as Magoth stormed past me, Cyrene hurrying after him as she continued to vent her spleen about Kostya.

“And then do you know what he said? He said he didn’t have time for me anymore, that bringing together the sept would take all of his attention, and he wouldn’t be able to deal with me, as well. Deal! Yes! He actually said the word ‘deal’ just as if I was a problem to be . . . well, dealt with. Can you believe that? I’ll feed his testicles to a shark—see if I don’t!”

He ignored Cyrene, pausing just long enough to give me a haughty look. “I am Magoth, sixth principle spirit of Abaddon—”

“Former principle spirit of Abaddon,” Jim said.

Magoth ignored the demon, too.

“—lord of thirty legions—”

“Now in the charge of Bael, or whoever he’s found to replace you,” Jim interrupted.

Cyrene whapped Magoth on his bare chest. “I am so not a problem person. I’m a naiad! We are the most pleasant of all the elemental beings! There’s nothing about me with which he needs to deal, except my vengeance, which shall be as deep as the ocean and as dark as the . . . er . . . the ocean. In the bottom parts, that is, where it really is very dark.”

“Marquis of the order of dominations!” Magoth bellowed, no doubt in order to be heard over the chorus of Jim and Cyrene, but the smidgen of power he still possessed gave his words an unexpected volume. His voice echoed for a few seconds, the harsh sound of birds screeching their objection to the noise slowly dying out.

We all looked at Magoth.

“I have no need of such things as clothes,” he said, dismissing such mortal concerns with great dignity, turning on his heel to stalk back toward town.

“You wanna be the one to tell him he’s got a big ole slug stuck to one of his butt cheeks?” Jim asked.

Magoth’s shoulder twitched at the demon’s question, but he didn’t stop. He just kept walking.

Chapter Five

“You could think the arrival of a naked, dirty, ex-demon lord would merit at least a few raised eyebrows,” Savian said as I collapsed into a chair. “But no one seems to care.”

“It’s probably more they don’t know what to think than they don’t care,” I said.

“That or they’re just too horrified at the sight of a penis curse to take more than a quick peek.” Savian glanced around the faux-medieval basement bar of the hotel at which we had taken rooms. At this hour of the day, it was empty of customers, a few morsels of gray light bullying their way in through thick, waved glass panes strapped with militant precision in what was no doubt supposed to be a design reminiscent of the court of Elizabeth I of England.

“Are you impugning my cock?” Magoth asked, his hands on his hips.

Savian looked startled for a moment. “I am not doing anything to your dick, let alone impugning it, although . . .” His gaze dropped to the member in question. “If the curse fits, wear it.”

Magoth’s eyes narrowed as he gestured proudly to his genitals. “This is a magnificent specimen of its kind! It is beyond magnificent—it is the epitome of cockhood. It can do things yours can only dream of! It is, in fact, a god amongst penises!”

“Oh, it wasn’t that good,” Cyrene snorted, rolling her eyes at Jim.

Jim clearly had many comments to make about that, but bound to silence, it could only raise its eyebrows and give Magoth’s penis a long, considering look.

“Magoth, please, keep your voice down,” I said.

“He,” Magoth spat, pointing at Savian, “disparaged this most resplendent of cocks. I demand that you as my consort defend its honor. Change back into dragon form and roast him alive.” He paused, a thought having occurred to him. “And then you can wrap your tail around me and—”

“No one is disparaging anything, least of all your genitals,” I said quickly before he dwelled on the strange ways he got his jollies. “Calm down and take a seat before someone notices you.”

He snorted, casting unimpressed glances around him. “I have to piss. I assume you will not let me hear the end of it if I do it here. I will take my commanding and august cock to the bathroom, where it will no longer offend your plebeian souls.”

I exchanged a look with Cyrene as he marched off to the men’s room.

“He really does love his penis,” she said as if that explained things. “And don’t get me wrong, it was fine and all, but magnificent? A god among penises? No. Maybe a duke, or a minor prince. But not a god.”