“There will be no sárkány today. Chuan Ren and I must see to things here before we can return to England for the meeting.”

“I understand that, but you haven’t explained why you think Kostya is involved. Gabriel . . .” I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to say what I wanted. “There have been grave problems between you and him, but even so, I don’t see him eliminating half of Bastian’s sept for Fiat. He might be a little out of line where it concerns the silver dragons, but he’s not outright insane. He would know that if he supported Fiat, the weyr would not recognize his sept, or his right to lead it, and he wants that above all else. He wouldn’t endanger that.”

A muffled voice sounded over his sigh. “I will be right there. Mayling, I must go. I’m being called to tend a survivor. I know it goes against your grain to do something without a reason, but please trust me on this—stay away from Kostya at all costs.”

“He wouldn’t—” I started to say, but Gabriel cut me off with a sharp word.

“Kostya was seen leaving the scene in Paris. Do you understand? He was there, May. He was seen. Get my mother and Maata and the others, and get out of Drake’s house. I must go. I will call later, when I can.”

The phone clicked off as I stared with unseeing eyes at an official police notice pinned to the stair door.

“Ms. Northcott?”

It took a few minutes for me to realize that the detective inspector was saying my name. I dragged my mind from the abyss of confusion that had claimed it, and rallied my scattered wits. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you were unwell. You look distressed.”

“Just a little family issue, I’m afraid. Did you have more forms for me to sign?”

“No. I would, however, request that you take your husband home. He is perilously close to being charged with assault.”

I hurried back into the office to retrieve Magoth, who sat perched on a female police officer’s desk, openly leering down her blouse.

“You promised to behave,” I said as I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the poor woman.

“Have I mentioned I love it when you get dominant?” he purred, following me out to the lobby. “And I am behaving. I didn’t once mock the mortals as I wished. I didn’t tell them who you really were, or what your scaly boyfriend was. I didn’t even correct their mistaken impression that our house was blown up by a gas line.”

“It’s Gabriel’s house, and our deal is off. Where’s Cyrene and Jim?”

I looked around the busy lobby, but my twin and the large demon weren’t anywhere to be found.

“I am a prince of Abaddon,” Magoth said, straightening his sleeve. “I am not a diviner.”

“You’re a pain in . . .” I stopped before I got caught up in another argument. “Stay here while I look for them. Maybe she went to the ladies’ room.”

I don’t know why I expected Magoth to actually do something I asked. He didn’t let me down, following me into the restroom, much to the chagrin of the women in there. Unfortunately, Cyrene wasn’t one of them.

“She probably saw something shiny, and the magpie in her demanded she go see it,” I said, tight-lipped with annoyance as I emerged from the building to see the street lined with fashionable shops. “Great. It’ll take at least an hour to ferret her out.”

“She always was easily distracted,” Magoth commented, following as I headed for the nearest shop. “I have no idea how you put up with someone who is so easily—oooh, leather!”

“I’m going to check out this side of the street. You can do the other,” I told him. I’d just reached the shop door when I heard my name being called. I spun around, catching sight of a furry black tail disappearing into a small pub. I dodged pedestrians to cross the road, pausing for a moment as I entered the bar to let my eyes adjust. “Jim?” I said, squinting a little bit.

There were only a couple of people in the bar, none of whom was Cyrene. There was also no sign of Jim.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but have you seen a large black dog?” I asked a couple who were sitting at a table. They sat stiffly, as if uncomfortable. “He came in just a minute ago.”

“Jim is in the back, along with your twin,” a smooth voice said behind me. I froze as the Italian accent filtered through my brain. The couple at the table rose to face me, and I noticed immediately that they weren’t humans—they were dragons.

Blue dragons.

I turned slowly. Fiat held a businesslike black gun, unfortunately pointed at my forehead. “I’m sure they will both be delighted to see you.”

“You do know I’m a doppelganger, yes?” I asked. “Not only am I immortal; I can slip into the shadow world, where you and your bullets can’t harm me.”

“But they can harm your twin, can they not?” he asked smoothly.

“She’s a naiad. All shooting her would do is make her very angry, and you can take my word for it that you don’t want to be in a confined space when she’s angry. She tends to get a bit elemental, if you get my drift.”

Before he could answer, Magoth strolled into the bar, clad in a black leather vest and matching skintight pants . . . ones without the seat.

“Assless chaps, Magoth?” I asked, distracted enough that I just had to ask him.

He posed so I could see the muscles of his behind flex. “They are made of the softest bull-scrotum leather.”

“Yes, but . . . assless chaps?”

He flexed a couple more times. “The mortals in the leather shop liked them. They offered to tattoo my arse, as well, but I showed them the curse on my cock and they said they couldn’t match that, so I just took the clothes and left. What are you doing here?” He sniffed a couple of times. “Bah. More dragons. Who is he, another of your lovers? Why is he holding a firearm on you? Are you having potentially lethal foreplay without me?”

The questions were asked of me, but directed to Fiat, who, I was amused to note, looked somewhat disconcerted when Magoth marched over and put his arm around me. Normally I wouldn’t have tolerated such an embrace, but I figured there were times when the devil you knew was better than the dragon you didn’t.

“Who are you?” Fiat countered.

Magoth gave him one of his superior looks, the kind he reserved for wrath demons belonging to other demon lords. “I am Magoth, prince of Abaddon, and this is my consort. I ask again—why are you pointing a firearm at her? If you are planning on using that to have sex with her, you’ll have to include me, as well.”