‘‘Which, I can assure you, is accurate in this case.’’ Magoth paced the edges of the room, glaring at the walls. ‘‘This room was clearly created by someone with a grudge against demon lords.’’

‘‘More likely demons, since there are few princes who are able to walk in the mortal world,’’ I pointed out.

‘‘The important point in this lamentably long conversation,’’ he said with a wicked look at me, ‘‘is that I be released. Immediately. If not sooner.’’

Gabriel and I exchanged a glance. The door behind us started to open, voices entering that questioned, in French, the status of the camera.

I threw myself at the door, slamming it shut. ‘‘We’re not going to be able to hold it for long,’’ I told Gabriel.

He braced himself against it as another attempt was made to open the door, pulling out his cell phone with one hand. He punched in one number and barked an order into the phone in a singsong language that I assume had Aboriginal roots.

‘‘That should give us a minute or two,’’ he said, grunting as he held the door firm despite some serious attempts on it. ‘‘Tipene will start a couple of fires in the station that will hopefully distract some of the people. Go ahead, May.’’

‘‘Right, let’s get straight to the negotiations,’’ I said, my voice rocky as someone started pounding something large against the door. ‘‘We will agree to get you out of here if you help us with a situation in Abaddon.’’

‘‘You need my help?’’ Magoth’s frown cleared as he perched himself on the corner of the table, a slow smile lighting his face. ‘‘How very interesting. You desire a favor from me. This is highly unusual, and yet, oddly appealing. And what payment do you offer?’’

‘‘No favors, just a simple exchange of help,’’ I said, digging in my heels and bracing as the door was continuously pounded.

He thought for a moment. ‘‘That is hardly fair. I do not know what situation you are referring to.’’

I glanced at Gabriel. The muscles in his neck stood out in cords as he strained to keep the door closed, but he managed a quick nod at my unasked question.

‘‘There is a dragon in Abaddon, a wyvern named Chuan Ren. We want you to help us get her released.’’

‘‘A dragon?’’ I could swear Magoth was sincerely surprised by that news. He spoke softly, as if to himself. ‘‘I have not heard that a dragon was sent to Abaddon, and surely I would have done so. Ahhh.’’ He exhaled as his eyes narrowed. ‘‘That is what Bael was up to. He has been secretive of late, very secretive, and hinted once at an unprecedented event. It must be he who possesses the dragon.’’

‘‘I don’t know who has her, or what her situation is; I just know that we need her released.’’

He eyed us both as we were jounced on the door. The attacks on it were getting stronger, pushing us a few inches out each time. We wouldn’t be able to last much longer. ‘‘This is not a fair trade of help. To free me is nothing, but to seize a minion of the premiere prince of Abaddon . . . pfft. That is a huge undertaking.’’

‘‘She’s a dragon; she can’t be a minion,’’ I said, straining to hold the door. Gabriel labored beside me. ‘‘She’s got to be held against her will, which should make her willing to cooperate with us.’’

‘‘Still,’’ Magoth said, idly trailing a hand down his chest. ‘‘It seems as if you ask more of me than I do of you.’’

‘‘Fine; we’ll do this by ourselves,’’ I spat, turning to Gabriel. ‘‘We’ll get that Guardian friend of Aisling to help us. There has to be some way to get Chuan Ren out of Abaddon. I’ll just be sure to tell the mortals not to let Magoth out of this room—’’

‘‘You wound me, consort,’’ Magoth interrupted, getting to his feet quickly. ‘‘Very well, I agree to your offer. Now, see to my release before I regret such generosity.’’

‘‘Make it binding,’’ I ground out through teeth clenched with the strain of holding the door.

‘‘Your lack of faith in me is something we really will have to address,’’ Magoth said with a look of pure scorn, but he casually reached behind him for the wooden chair, easily smashing it to smithereens on the table. He used a partially exposed screw to knick the tip of one finger, pursing his lips in a little pout as a bead of blood welled up on it, then milking it for a few seconds before strolling over to me. He touched the drop of blood to my forehead. ‘‘My blood seals the pact between us. Happy now?’’

‘‘Very,’’ I grunted, wanting to wipe off the blood mark but not having an available hand to do so. I glanced at Gabriel.

‘‘Shadow,’’ he ordered, sweat starting to dot his forehead.

‘‘I don’t need to be protected from mortals,’’ I said, intending to object to being kept out of the way.

‘‘I have no time to argue about this, little bird. I can’t protect you and Magoth together, so you must shadow.’’

‘‘Don’t think I’m going to let you get away with bossing me around the way Drake does Aisling,’’ I answered, taking a step away from the door, shadowing as I did so.

The door exploded inward, but Gabriel is not a dragon for nothing. He moved so fast I could barely follow him as he snatched up a broken piece of chair, whirling around with it held like a lance. The police spilled into the room, guns drawn, but they didn’t stand a chance against Gabriel. The wooden weapon he held spun and flashed in the overhead light, its movement almost immediately followed by the cries of those he’d wielded it upon.

I stood pressed up against the wall, watching with openmouthed amazement and appreciation as Gabriel single-handedly dealt with the group of seven policemen. He was grace and power personified, dodging, attacking, twisting around bodies as they crumpled to the floor, and yet I was willing to bet there wouldn’t be a single fatality.

‘‘Where did you learn to do that?’’ I asked, following as he jerked Magoth into the hallway after him.

Gabriel’s dimples flashed for a fraction of a second. ‘‘I spent a few years in warrior training with a tribe in South Africa. Stay hidden, little bird, but remain close.’’