Playing with Fire (4 page)

He took another deep drag on his cigarette. ‘‘It is, my darling, it is. Especially that which Kostich possessed—it was the purest form, the arcanum of the soul. Only a master alchemist can make it, and it takes many years to cure it to the clarity of the liquid I assume you now possess.’’

There was both a question and a demand in his lightly spoken comment. Silently, I removed the bottle from my inner pocket and rose to give it to him. He took the bottle but, before I could withdraw, grabbed my hand, pulling me onto his lap.

‘‘Stop struggling; your virtue is safe from me. For the moment,’’ he added with a leer before turning over my hand so he could examine my palm.

I shivered at the chill that seemed to seep from his flesh to mine.

‘‘You are hiding something from me,’’ he said in a low, soft voice that would have been beautiful but for the very real undertone of threat.

‘‘I couldn’t do that,’’ I answered, trying not to squirm nervously on him. ‘‘I’m bound to you. I must follow your orders.’’

His forefinger traced a curlicue over my left breast. ‘‘I can hear your heart racing, sweet May. What is it you fear I will learn?’’

‘‘I don’t like being held by you,’’ I said, praying the truth of that statement would satisfy him.

‘‘Hmm.’’ His finger brushed along my lips. I turned my head away and tried to escape his hold. To my surprise, he didn’t fight to hold me.

‘‘This deception I sense in you is new and fascinating, but I’m afraid I cannot allow it to continue,’’ he said calmly as I shakily gathered up my purse.

‘‘If I had the power to disobey you, do you think I’d be here now?’’

A slight smile played about his lips, his eyes half-closed. ‘‘You
are
hiding something from me, May Northcott.’’

I backed up a step at the use of my full name, the hairs on my arms rising as my brain screamed a warning. Unable to speak another denial, I simply shook my head.

He got to his feet with languid grace, strolling toward me with an expression that might seem pleasant, but which scared the crap out of me. He stroked the curve of my cheek with one finger. ‘‘Such a lovely face. You offer such temptation, and yet I believe you truly do not understand what you possess. Ah well, that time will come, and I look forward to introducing you to pleasures you can’t even begin to imagine.’’

‘‘If that’s all, I’d better be going,’’ I stammered, backing up toward the door.

‘‘Do you know what I will do if you attempt to keep something from me?’’ he asked just as I got my hand on the doorknob and was turning it.

I paused, my stomach tightening. ‘‘Kill me?’’

‘‘Tsk. The image you have of me,’’ he said, pretending disappointment even as his eyes danced with amusement. ‘‘Sweet May, I am a lover, not a fighter, as the mortals so quaintly put it. I would not kill you, although I admit that the thought of lessoning you brings me’’—he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply—‘‘much pleasure.’’

I had a momentary image of what his idea of lessoning was. It shook me to my core. No doubt my horror manifested itself in my expression.

Magoth laughed. ‘‘Alas, that enjoyment must await another time. But do, I beg of you, keep it in mind as I ask you this question—have you seen something at Dr. Kostich’s that I will want?’’

I almost sagged with relief at his question. I had been on the verge of admitting everything, figuring I might avoid the heinous fate he had planned if I could bring him the quintessence, but his own choice of words saved me. I lifted my chin, looked him dead in the eye, and said with absolute honesty, ‘‘No, I have not seen something that you would want.’’

He ground out his cigarette on the carpet. ‘‘I will rephrase my question—what did you find out about the archimage Kostich?’’

‘‘Not much,’’ I answered, my fingers tightening around the doorknob as I sorted through my memories of the previous night for anything of interest. ‘‘He seems to favor Greek and Roman antiquities, has two original Renoirs and one fake hanging in a reception room, and possesses a mistaken belief that arcane magic will protect his most valuable objects.’’

Magoth lit another cigarette, watching the flame on the lighter for a moment before snapping it closed. ‘‘Where was the vial?’’

‘‘In a case in his study.’’

‘‘What else was in the case?’’

‘‘The only things I saw were a couple of old vases, some gold jewelry that looked to be Etruscan in origin, and a fertility figure.’’

He was silent for a moment, his eyes hooded, but I knew he was examining me for signs I was lying. My stomach revolted for a moment at the thought of what he’d do if he found out I was picking my words carefully to avoid lying.

‘‘Very well,’’ he said at last. ‘‘If you are sure I cannot tempt you to stay and enjoy the gratification that only I can bring you, you may leave.’’

I stifled the urge to whoop and dance for joy, bowing my head in a show of submission.

‘‘I will have need of you again in a few days, once I transmute this Liquor Hepatis to Balsam of the Soul. Come naked next time, hmm?’’

I shot him a startled look.

He grinned. ‘‘It was worth a try. Until we meet again, my delectable one.’’

I inclined my head again, and left the room, collapsing against the door as it closed behind me.

‘‘Still in one piece?’’ Sobe asked, glancing up from the laptop. The demon looked vaguely surprised, its perfectly shaped eyebrows rising a little. I felt a familiar twinge of irritation that something that wasn’t human could look so much better than myself. From all appearances, Sobe was a gorgeous blonde, perfect in every way. ‘‘That didn’t take long.’’

I curled my lips in a faint smile and told the demon that I would be back in a few days.

‘‘You’ll need to come to Madrid, then. We’re leaving for Spain tomorrow,’’ it answered, flipping through an appointment book. ‘‘We’ll be there for two weeks. After that it’s a week in America, and a month in Brazil.’’

‘‘I’ll find you,’’ I said, gathering up the things I’d left in the outer office.

Sobe considered my well-worn duffel bag that I used when traveling, a slightly wistful look in its eyes. ‘‘I almost envy you. You get to go places and see things. We travel, but . . .’’ It shrugged. ‘‘We’re always limited to the Abaddon side of things, and I never seem to have time to go out and see the mortal world for myself. Where are you going now?’’

‘‘Back to Greece.’’

‘‘Really?’’ It eyed me with enough interested speculation that I assumed it had somehow listened in to the conversation Magoth and I had.

‘‘My twin is there,’’ I explained, forcing myself to smile. ‘‘She wants to have a little vacation, and since Magoth won’t need me for a few days, I figure I’m due for some time in the sun.’’

‘‘I wouldn’t have thought that was quite your forte,’’ it said slowly, eyes still speculative. ‘‘I didn’t think your kind liked the sun.’’

‘‘Anything is bearable with proper precautions,’’ I said lightly, waggling a bottle of sun block at the demon. I hurried out before it could ask me any more penetrating questions, muttering under my breath as I left the house. Unless a demon lord was very powerful, he or she could not step foot in the mortal world, although most of them maintained domiciles that had an intrusion into our world, serving as more or less a conduit for their minions. As I skipped down the steps of Magoth’s Parisian house, I breathed another sigh of relief, and hunted down a taxi.

Magoth didn’t mind his servants going to the trouble to summon me via a portal or rip in the fabric of being, but he frowned on them expending any such energy when I wanted to leave. It was up to me to make my own way out of Paris, and although there was a sticky moment when the passport official balked at my lack of proper entrance documentation, eventually I was on a plane headed back to Greece.

‘‘. . . so I’m back, still alive, and haven’t had anything stripped from me, like my soul or brain or any of the other things Magoth will remove if I cross him,’’ I told Cyrene a couple of hours later.

She turned from where she had been looking out the window of my hotel room while I told her of my trip, her face twisted with anguish. ‘‘Oh, May, I’m so sorry you had to go through that! I’m just sick to death that I ever agreed to bind you to him! It’s just that he was so incredibly handsome, so overwhelmingly sexy, and I had no idea—’’

I pulled myself up from where I had collapsed exhaustedly on the bed and held up a hand to interrupt the apology. ‘‘I didn’t tell you that to make you feel bad. Your sexual thrills aside, I know full well you had no real grasp of what you were agreeing to when Magoth seduced you into creating me, so stop beating yourself up for it. I’m coping well enough, and managing to stay a step ahead of him, so there’s no need for you to continue on this martyr kick.’’

That was true so far, but as my near seduction earlier had proven, the future didn’t hold much hope for me. That thought nibbled away at me as Cyrene paced past.

‘‘I will never forget the look on your face when you were created, and Magoth told you that I’d given you to him. I thought my heart would break.’’

Her distress was very real, as real as the tears rolling down her face.

‘‘Oh, Cy,’’ I said, stopping her to give her the hug she so obviously needed. ‘‘I know you weren’t to blame for what happened with Magoth. I have never thought you would willingly bind me to him, so you can let go of that guilt.’’

‘‘But he makes you do things you hate! You have to steal for him, and I know how much that distresses you!’’

It took another ten minutes of Cyrene alternately begging my forgiveness (which had been granted many decades ago) and sobbing over what had been done before she managed to dry her eyes and pull herself together enough to hold a conversation.

‘‘May . . .’’ She fussed with the telephone cord, twirling it around and around as I unpacked my bag.

‘‘Hmm?’’

‘‘You remember when I called you last week?’’

‘‘Yes. You got terribly excited when I said I was going to Greece. Hold this, would you? I can’t find my hand lotion, and the air here is so dry I feel like my skin is going to flake away.’’

She took the cosmetic bag I held out, biting her lip as I sorted through the mishmash of belongings I’d tossed into my duffel bag. ‘‘Do you remember me saying there was something I needed a little help with?’’

‘‘Yes,’’ I said again, this time much more cautiously. I plucked a tube of ginger-and-orange hand lotion from the bottom of the bag, applying it while I watched her closely. Her eyes, which offered the only means to tell us apart (hers being a clear blue while mine were blue with a black ring around the edge of the iris), were clearly unhappy . . . and quite obviously avoiding meeting mine. ‘‘Oh, Cy,’’ I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. ‘‘What sort of trouble are you in now?’’

‘‘It’s not my fault this time!’’ she exclaimed, tossing the cosmetic bag down to sit next to me. ‘‘I swear to you it isn’t! And . . . and I tried, I really
tried
to take care of it myself, because I know how much you dislike having to fix things for me.’’

I patted the hand that was clutching at mine, a small pit of worry forming in my gut. Cyrene seemed to attract trouble the way dung attracted flies. ‘‘I don’t mind helping you out when you need it, you know that.’’

‘‘I know, and I’m so grateful for that. It’s why I was excited when you said you were going to Greece on a job—I thought that, at last, here was a chance for me to help you.’’

‘‘That’s very generous of you,’’ I said, giving her another pat before picking up all the clothing I’d tossed out in the hunt for the hand cream. ‘‘What exactly is troubling you now?’’

She was silent. I glanced over my shoulder to see her face set in stony unhappiness. ‘‘I . . . I . . . I need to take a bath!’’

I grabbed her arm as she dashed past me toward the bathroom. ‘‘Oh, no, you don’t. I know all about you and your three-hour-long baths. You’re not going to escape something unpleasant by hiding in the tub again.’’

‘‘I’m a naiad! I can’t help it if water makes me feel better.’’

‘‘You’re only going to make things worse if you don’t tell me everything,’’ I pointed out, releasing her arm to lean one hip against the low chest of drawers. ‘‘Go on, get it over with.’’

She sighed, her head lowered as she peeked up at me. ‘‘I’m . . . I’m being blackmailed.’’

‘‘Oh, Cy, not again!’’ I said. ‘‘I thought that after the last time—’’

‘‘This has nothing to do with that!’’ she said quickly. ‘‘Well . . . not so much. Really, it’s barely connected with the unfortunate incident.’’

‘‘You’re the only woman I know who could refer to the act of taking an aquarium hostage as an ‘unfortunate incident.’ How many fish did you kidnap this time?’’

‘‘I didn’t!’’ she protested, a righteous look on her face. ‘‘I promised you faithfully after that incident I wouldn’t try to free any more ocean mammals, and I haven’t, I swear I haven’t. It’s just that . . . I . . . we might have blown up a couple of helicopters and maybe two or three ships.’’

My jaw dropped a few inches as I stared at her. ‘‘You
what
?’’

‘‘They were baby-seal hunters!’’ she said, crossing her arms over her chest. ‘‘Horrible, evil, cruel people who wanted to go out and kill innocent, sweet, furry little baby seals.’’

‘‘Oh, my god,’’ I said, sliding down the chest of drawers to the floor. ‘‘How many people did you kill?’’

‘‘May!’’ she gasped, her face horrified. ‘‘No one! What sort of a person do you take me for? We bombed the helicopters and ships when they were empty.’’

‘‘Well, thank the twelve gods and all their little minions for small miracles,’’ I said, relaxing slightly. ‘‘I take it the ‘we’ you mentioned were your usual cohorts in crime?’’

She lifted her chin. ‘‘My fellow naiads and I only have the best interests of the planet at our hearts.’’

‘‘Uh-huh. So who’s blackmailing you?’’ I asked, willing to forgo a lecture on the impropriety of bombing things in order to get to the bottom of the situation.