‘‘The house is beautiful. It’s just . . .’’ I hesitated, finding it difficult to put my strange mood into words. ‘‘It just seems so bare, as if it was just here for show and no one has ever really lived in it.’’
‘‘Well, Gabriel did say he wasn’t in London much. Maybe he hasn’t had time to make it feel like a home yet. Besides, that’s what you’re for, isn’t it?’’
Her words brought to the surface all the feelings of doubt that I’d successfully pinned down during the last twelve hours.
‘‘Mayling?’’ Cyrene took a couple of steps into the room, her brow furrowed. ‘‘You are going to be happy with Gabriel, aren’t you?’’
Her concern touched me, making me forget my earlier annoyance with her. That had always been the pattern of our relationship . . . she got into trouble, and, exasperated, I ran to her aid, forgiving her when faced with her genuine affection and gratitude. ‘‘Of course I’ll be happy. How could I be otherwise? I have a man so sexy he literally burns down a hotel room, a gorgeous house in a prime spot in London, and carte blanche to do with it what I want. I’d have to be insane not to be happy.’’
‘‘Yes,’’ she said, touching my cheek lightly. ‘‘You would. Those dragons are incredibly sexy, don’t you think?’’
I glanced up quickly, but she had a dreamy look in her eyes, not one that hinted of jealousy. ‘‘That’s one way of putting it.’’
‘‘I think it’s because they’re so . . . oh, I don’t know . . . exotic. You know what I mean? There’s a sense of danger about them, as if they are barely just holding back the beast that dwells within them.’’
I couldn’t deny her assessment, although I was more than a little reluctant to have this discussion. ‘‘I suppose so, although Gabriel seems much more even tempered than Drake or his obnoxious brother.’’
‘‘Obnoxious!’’ Cyrene gaped at me. ‘‘How can you possibly say that about Kostya? He’s not obnoxious! He’s just . . . intense. Very, very intense. And so handsome, don’t you think?’’
Relief mingled with disbelief as she continued to sing Kostya’s praises. I recognized the signs all too well, having lived through a good hundred or so of Cyrene’s relationships. ‘‘He doesn’t seem terribly stable, emotionally speaking,’’ I said slowly.
‘‘Who doesn’t? Kostya?’’ She wandered over to a palm, absently stroking its leaves in a manner I knew would have the plant sprouting new branches (plants love naiads). ‘‘There’s a reason for that, you know. I had a long talk with Aisling earlier, and she told me all about how Kostya had to go into hiding after he killed his wyvern, and then how he was kidnapped by someone unknown, and left to starve in a horrible prison until Drake and Aisling rescued him. So you see, he’s been through a lot in the last couple of hundred years. Allowances should be made for his rather brusque manner.’’
I stifled a little smile at the word ‘‘brusque’’ being applied to Kostya, but kept silent, feeling it was better for her blossoming infatuation to burn itself out without help from me.
‘‘I wonder if he’s going to be wyvern of his sept,’’ she said, looking out of the floor-to-ceiling window to a darkened garden.
‘‘I was under the impression there was no sept to be wyvern of.’’
‘‘Aisling said she thought there were a few black dragons still left, but they are in hiding.’’ Cyrene turned back toward me, making a contrite face. ‘‘I’m sorry, here I am chatting on and you’re obviously tired and should get some rest. Bath for me, and then the master room is all yours.’’
She hurried off to take her restorative bath, leaving me to my murky thoughts.
My emotions were too raw to dwell much on the last few hours I’d spent before Cyrene and I had left Greece. Most of the day had been spent kicking my heels at Aisling’s house, waiting to hear what Gabriel and Drake had found out about the disappearance of Maata and Tipene. I had been frustrated being kept out of the way, but knew too little about the ways of dragons to know if it was a case of being kept from underfoot, or if Gabriel and Drake were putting themselves in a situation that would have been dangerous to me.
‘‘Anything?’’ I had asked when Gabriel returned after four hours.
‘‘No.’’ He took my arm and edged me away from where Aisling was grilling Drake. ‘‘No one has seen them. Their things weren’t touched, and they didn’t leave any message for me. I’m afraid the worst has happened.’’
I put my hand on his chest, wanting to comfort him. ‘‘You think they’re . . . dead?’’
He was silent for a moment before shaking his head. ‘‘No. I’d feel it if they were dead. But someone has taken them against their will, and that someone is Kostya.’’
‘‘He says he didn’t.’’
Gabriel’s eyes were as bright as mercury, his face suddenly frightening in its austerity. ‘‘He lies. He’s tried to sway Drake over to helping him against us before. This is just another attempt to put me in a bad light, and himself in the role of a victim.’’
‘‘I have to say,’’ I said slowly, unsure how he’d take my comment in his present unyielding mood, ‘‘that he looked to me to be surprised when you accused him of harming your guards.’’
‘‘He is a very good actor. He’s had time to perfect that skill . . . but it doesn’t fool me. The silver dragons are at war with no one. There is no reason anyone would want to take my guard. It has to be Kostya.’’
‘‘So what do we do now?’’ I asked.
His eyes warmed several degrees as he looked down at me. ‘‘You, little bird, are going to London with your twin as you originally planned.’’
I was both surprised and hurt at his dismissal. ‘‘Do not think I don’t want you near me,’’ he said with a flash of his dimples, his fingers soft as he brushed back a strand of my hair. ‘‘There are some green dragons who live in the north of Greece—Drake has called on them to help us search.’’
‘‘Aren’t there any silver dragons around here?’’
He shook his head. ‘‘They populate mostly Africa, and the South Pacific, although recently more have moved into the Caribbean, and the West Coast of America. Very few silver dragons live in Europe.’’
‘‘Why? Is there something here that keeps the silver dragons away?’’ I asked.
‘‘Not at all. I myself prefer the southern climes, but business concerns frequently keep me in the Northern Hemisphere. I do not wish to part with you, Mayling, but it will relieve my mind to know you are safe at home. There is enough room for your twin to stay as well—I’d be easier in my mind if you had company with you there. I expect to follow you tomorrow, at the latest. Until then’’—his head dipped down as he bit my lower lip—‘‘I will miss you greatly.’’
The scene played in my mind as I sat alone in the empty, echoing conservatory. Rain pattered down lightly on the windows as indigo claimed the sky. I touched my lips, shivering, but whether it was from the relative cold of an early spring London night, or from a suspicion that what Gabriel would miss was his mate rather than me specifically, I couldn’t say.
‘‘This isn’t doing you any good,’’ I said aloud, my voice eerily thin. I cleared my throat and tried again. ‘‘What you need is a plan of action. Let’s put that mind to work and come up with something useful.’’
Cyrene’s faint voice, chirping happily away in the bathroom upstairs, drifted down as I pulled out the blackmail letter she had given me earlier. It was brief and to the point, demanding that I render a service or else the blackmailer would hand over the videotape to the appropriate authorities.
With reluctance, I punched in the phone number the blackmailer had given.
‘‘What?’’ a gruff male voice answered.
‘‘This is Cyrene Northcott’s twin. I understand you wished to speak with me.’’
‘‘Oh, the doppelganger.’’ The man’s voice had a harsh midwestern U.S. twang to it. ‘‘About time you called. There’s a job I want you to do for me. Something I want you to steal.’’
I was no stranger to bluntness, so I ignored everything but what was important—I needed to make sure that he didn’t know I was also Mei Ling. ‘‘What makes you think I’m going to condone an illegal act?’’
The man grunted. ‘‘Saw you at that oracle’s with your hand up his ass, didn’t I? You were there for the same thing I was—the arcanum.’’
‘‘I would hardly refer to being in the oracle’s book room as having my hand up his ass, but we’ll let that go.’’
‘‘You’re a doppelganger. I looked that up—you can go invisible and get into places normal people can’t. So don’t come over all high and mighty on me.’’
I bit back any number of responses, relieved that he hadn’t mentioned anything about Mei Ling. The arcanum I was sent to get wasn’t particularly valuable— Magoth simply had a desire to see it—and it certainly wasn’t of the same quality of items that the infamous Mei Ling had previously stolen, so it was entirely within reason that this person didn’t connect a shadow-walking doppelganger named May with a Chinese cat burglar. ‘‘What is it you want acquired?’’
‘‘Not going to deny it, eh?’’ The man chuckled, his laugh just as unpleasant as his voice. ‘‘Smart girl. There’s a piece here in London, a small golden amulet. It’s well protected, so you’ll need to use your wits to get it. You got a pencil? Here’s the address.’’
I took down the information, wondering what the amulet was, and how I was going to get out of stealing it. For now, I’d let the blackmailer think he had me by the short and curlies, but I would not commit myself to stealing something about which I knew nothing. Perhaps if I knew a little more about who he was working for, I’d be able to assess what it was he wanted stolen. ‘‘All right, I have that. My twin said you were working for a dreadlord. Which one?’’
‘‘Who I work for is none of your business,’’ he said sharply, on a quick intake of breath.
‘‘Well then, who owns this amulet you want stolen?’’
The silence that followed was rife with suspicion.
‘‘Look, I don’t know what you think doppelgangers can do, but we can’t turn invisible, and we can’t walk through walls. We’re flesh and blood just like anyone else . . . more or less . . . and we can trigger alarms and set off security systems. The more I know about the person who has this amulet, the better I can protect myself and ensure success.’’
‘‘Just steal the damned thing. You don’t need to shove your nose into anything else. Get in, get it, and get out. Call me when you’ve got it.’’
‘‘I’m not a miracle worker—’’ I started to protest.
‘‘If you’re caught, he’ll kill you,’’ the man interrupted. ‘‘So don’t get caught.’’
‘‘But who—’’
He hung up before I could finish asking him who it was he intended for me to rob. I sighed and slumped back into the chair, staring blindly at the piece of paper I held. I had a bad feeling about this whole thing, but I wasn’t in much of a position to do anything. I’d just have to go to the target’s house and assess the situation there.
It wasn’t until I was in my room, donning my working outfit, that I realized something odd about the address he’d given me.
‘‘I’ll be damned,’’ I said a few minutes later as I looked at the card Aisling had given me. One side of it had her address in London, and on the back, she’d written the location of Kostya’s lair.
It was the same address the blackmailer had given me.
An hour and a half later I slipped out of the back door of Gabriel’s house, casting an eye upward to the window of the room Cyrene had claimed. A faint light flickered through a gap in the curtains, indicating Cyrene was happily tucked into bed, yakking on the phone to one or another local naiad while she watched late-night TV. I hadn’t told her my plans lest she wish to accompany me . . . and where I was going, she definitely couldn’t follow.
Why was the blackmailer trying to steal something from a dragon? No wonder he didn’t want to tell me whom I was supposed to steal from—no one in their right mind would ever try to get something out of a dragon’s lair.
‘‘More intriguingly, who is he working for?’’ I murmured aloud to myself. ‘‘And does this have anything to do with that phylactery Gabriel wants?’’
‘‘What’s that?’’
I came to myself with a start as the taxi driver pulled up outside a dark and rather grimy warehouse. ‘‘Sorry, just talking to myself. Is this it?’’
‘‘It is. That’ll be five pounds.’’
I paid the man, hesitating for a moment as I glanced at the warehouse. I wasn’t normally a fearful person, but I had to admit there was something about the hulking black building that left me feeling a bit twitchy. ‘‘I don’t suppose you’d like to wait for me?’’
‘‘Here?’’ He shoved my change in my hands. ‘‘Not for five times that. Good luck.’’
He sped off into the darkness without even a backward glance. ‘‘Talk about your foreshadowing,’’ I muttered as I slipped into the shadows.
The lock on the door to the warehouse posed no problem to me. I smiled as I laid my fingers across the front, gently urging the tumblers within it to turn until the lock obligingly clicked open. I’ve never been sure why, exactly, doppelgangers had the inherent ability to open locks, but it was such a useful talent, I figured it was best not to question it. As the door opened, I shadowed and made my way cautiously into the lower level of the empty warehouse. A small amount of dim light from the buildings on either side filtered through the high, grimy windows, giving me enough light to make out a couple of large boxes in an otherwise empty room.
‘‘Kostya lives in an abandoned building near Greenwich,’’ Aisling had told me earlier in the day, when Gabriel and Drake were off looking for the two missing bodyguards.
‘‘Does he?’’ I’d asked, a little bit surprised by the sudden change in what had been up to that point innocuous conversation.
‘‘Yes. I’m telling you now because if Gabriel is anything like Drake, he’s not going to want you to do anything on your own. Dragons are like that: very protective, and the wyverns especially so—it’s sweet, really, but they just don’t realize that we are professionals, and sometimes, we need to be given some space to do our own thing.’’
I nodded. I had a suspicion I was being kept out of the way, which was already rankling.