‘‘Yes.’’ The female demon looked up from its laptop, using a wicked-looking stiletto to poke a strand of errant blond hair back into an otherwise tidy French twist, all the while eyeing me with obvious disdain. ‘‘You’re not a demon.’’

‘‘Er . . . no, I’m not. I’m a doppelganger. I don’t believe we’ve met—I’m May Northcott.’’

‘‘Sobe,’’ the demon answered, its mouth set in a prim line. ‘‘I’ve never seen a doppelganger. You are a dark being?’’

‘‘Not really, no. I’m a twin, the shadow image of a normal person. Well, not a mortal—she’s a naiad.’’

‘‘A twin?’’ Sobe’s expression turned even more sour. ‘‘How does this happen?’’

‘‘Oh, you know, the usual way,’’ I said, trying to be bright and perky. It never worked—I just wasn’t a bright and perky sort of person. ‘‘Someone decides they want an exact copy of themselves, they invoke a demon lord, sacrifice one of their character traits, and poof! A doppelganger appears, after which there is usually much merrymaking and quite possibly an orgy.’’

Sobe just looked at me, its lips pursed now. I made a mental note that attempts at humor were wasted on demons.

‘‘I see. What are you doing here if you’re a naiad’s twin?’’

‘‘It’s a long story, and one that would probably bore you to tears,’’ I said, not wanting to get into my history with a strange demon. ‘‘Let’s just leave it at the fact that I do some work for Magoth now and again. How is he today?’’

‘‘The master? He laughed. Twice.’’

I flinched.

Sobe nodded, tapping a couple of keys on the computer with long, rose-tipped fingers. ‘‘You don’t have an appointment, doppelganger. If you work for him, you must know how he gets when his servants approach him without an appointment.’’

‘‘I’m expected,’’ I answered airily, trying to quell the bile that inevitably rose within my gut whenever I was summoned before Magoth. He might be the lowest of all the demon lords, but my meetings with him were fraught with . . . well, dread.

‘‘It’s your life,’’ Sobe answered with a shrug, returning its attention to the laptop. ‘‘What’s left of it.’’

I squared my shoulders, gathering up my strength before I knocked gently on the door that led into a large office. Magoth on the best of days wasn’t easy to deal with. . . . A happy Magoth boded ill for everyone.

A little shiver ran down my spine as I opened the door. Low, smoky music drifted out of invisible speakers as I negotiated the candlelit narrow hallway that opened into Magoth’s living quarters, which he used as his office.

‘‘Ah, May, what a delight to see you again. You look as delicious as ever.’’ Magoth shimmered into view, dressed in a dark blue shirt open three-quarters of the way down his chest, tight black leather pants, and a bullwhip wrapped around his waist.

I cocked an eyebrow at the sight of the whip. ‘‘Been watching Indiana Jones movies again?’’

His smile was blatantly sexual, right down to the devilish twinkle in his black eyes. ‘‘Just indulging myself in a few fantasies. Speaking of which . . .’’ He threw himself down onto a white leather couch, patting the seat. ‘‘Come sit with Papa.’’

‘‘Are we ever going to be able to do this without sexual harassment?’’ I asked, primly seating myself on a chair as far away from him as I could get.

‘‘Sweetness,’’ he cooed, rolling over onto his back and giving me a playful look. ‘‘Come. And I do mean that literally.’’

I thinned my lips and stayed put.

‘‘Hey, little girl.’’ He unbuttoned the last few buttons on his shirt and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘‘Can I interest you in a piece of candy?’’

I lifted my chin.

His fingers drifted down to his waistband as he pouted slightly. ‘‘I’m going to think my little loveykins is mad unless she gives her daddy some sugar.’’

‘‘Oh, for mercy’s sake . . . Magoth!’’ I said, exasperated.

He sighed and propped himself up, his shirt gaping open in a way that allowed me to see his entire masculine chest. As a demon lord, Magoth had the ability to don whatever form he chose, but oddly enough, the one he had used ever since I had been bound to him was his true form—that of a black-haired, black-eyed, incredibly handsome man who unabashedly oozed sexuality. ‘‘If I didn’t know better, my dear, I’d swear you had no soul. What can a little wicked indulgence hurt?’’

‘‘ ‘Hurt’ being the key word,’’ I said, crossing my arms over my stomach and reminding myself that no matter how human he looked, he was still a demon lord.

Magoth propped himself up on one arm, his tight leather pants emphasizing every line of his well-muscled thighs. He smiled. ‘‘You don’t know you won’t like it unless you try it.’’

I kept my mouth shut, having learned the hard way that Magoth was more than happy to spend hours attempting to seduce me into his arms. The sooner I could get his mind to business, the better.

Magoth’s eyes sparkled, a fact I had only a moment to notice before he was suddenly standing before me, having pulled me into his arms. ‘‘Why don’t you let me show you just how fine the line is between pain and pleasure?’’ he murmured, his breath cold against my skin as his mouth nibbled a line along my jaw.

One hand slid along my back, his fingers leaving an icy trail that sent shivers up and down my flesh. His eyes promised much, and for a moment, I sagged into him, pulled into an erotic vision of tangled limbs, heated flesh, and pleasure so exquisite it hurt.

‘‘You have so much promise, sweet May, so much to learn, and there is so much I wish to teach you. Let me show you the truth behind that which you can only imagine. Let me bring you to the heights of ecstasy,’’ he murmured against my neck, his fingers dancing lower, following the line of my behind, and nudging my legs apart with his thigh.

His words spun a spell around me, my mind filling with images that simultaneously aroused and repulsed me. ‘‘That’s it,’’ he urged, supporting me as he backed up to the couch. ‘‘Give yourself over to the pleasure. I am a very good lover, my sweet May. You will have no regrets.’’

The erotic images danced in my brain, seducing me even as his words and caresses did. I fell backwards, sinking into nothingness as his icy fingers skimmed down the buttons of my shirt, parting the material, his head bending over my chest. The cold of his body as he slid himself across me caused my skin to prickle painfully, my nipples hard and sensitive as his bare chest rubbed against them.

‘‘That’s it, my darling. Let me have you,’’ he purred against my neck, one hand slipping up between my thighs to part them.

It was his cold touch on the heated center of me that broke the spell he’d so carefully woven. My eyes snapped open as I realized I was a few seconds away from an irreversible step.

‘‘No!’’ I shouted, shoving him off me as I scrambled to my feet, snatching up my shirt and backing away.

He looked up from where he had fallen on the floor, his face hard for a moment before it softened into a rueful grin. ‘‘I almost had you this time.’’

I said nothing, just buttoned my shirt with hands that shook.

‘‘I get closer and closer each time,’’ he added as he hoisted himself back onto the couch, grimacing slightly as he rearranged the obvious bulge in his pants. ‘‘Why don’t you make it easier on both of us and give in to the inevitable?’’

‘‘I told you the first time you tried to seduce me that I wasn’t interested in that sort of a relationship with you,’’ I said after I’d pulled myself together. I picked up my bag and sat down again, more shaken than I wanted to admit. I had a horrible feeling he was right, and sooner or later, he’d complete his conquest of me.

‘‘Would that be so very bad?’’ he asked, leaning back.

‘‘Stop reading my mind,’’ I said, ignoring the question.

‘‘I can’t read minds, my sweet one. But I am very, very good at reading expressions, and yours displays so much delicious righteousness, I cannot wait for the moment when you realize your fall is inevitable,’’ he said with another smile.

I couldn’t help myself—I knew that what I was about to do was tantamount to baiting a bull, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking. ‘‘Why me?’’ I made a vague gesture. ‘‘Why do you want me so badly when there are so many others whom you could have?’’

To my surprise, he didn’t brush the question off with a slick answer and a leer. He looked thoughtful for a moment, snapping his fingers. A demon appeared, bowing low to him, its gaze lowered as it offered a silver box. Magoth selected a slim brown Russian cigarette from the box, allowed the demon to light it, and then dismissed it with a wave of his hand. ‘‘I asked myself the very same question after your twin first brought you to me. As you know, I’ve sampled her particular wares.’’

My gaze slid off of him. He knew the rules as well as I did—I didn’t discuss Cyrene.

‘‘Thus it would be perfectly reasonable to assume that as I’d had her, I had no reason to taste the pleasures you have to offer . . . and yet, there is something about you, something . . . unique . . . that calls to me. It is as if you alone can quench a particular thirst. I find myself intrigued by you.’’

Uncomfortable, I shifted in my seat, looking just beyond his ear in an attempt to not be caught and held by that knowing gaze. ‘‘I’m Cyrene’s twin. You know as well as I do that doppelgangers are identical copies of their twins. There is no difference between Cyrene and me—with the exception of the fact that she’s a naiad and I’m not, we’re absolutely identical.’’

‘‘No,’’ he said slowly, taking a long drag on the cigarette as his eyes caressed me. ‘‘That you are not. And that fascinates me even more. . . .’’

I cleared my throat, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. A distraction was called for. I sorted through my head for anything to take his mind off a seduction, but came up empty-handed. With nothing to lose, I fell back upon the obvious. ‘‘I assume you had a reason for summoning me?’’

He was silent for a moment, letting me know that he was allowing the change of subject only because it suited him. ‘‘I heard an interesting piece of news this morning.’’

‘‘I assume it must have been something important for you to have summoned me back to Paris. What is the news?’’ I asked cautiously, surreptitiously rubbing my arms against the chill in the room. Despite the Parisian spring sun seeping into the room, the air was cold enough for me to see little puffs when I spoke.

His lips twitched. ‘‘It seems that a certain individual has put a price on your head.’’

‘‘Another one? Lovely.’’ I closed my eyes for a moment, my frequent companions of regret, despair, and hopelessness leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

‘‘Dr. Kostich appears to be very upset at the loss of a precious item, stolen from his home in Greece late last night.’’

‘‘Dr. Kostich?’’ The name rang a faint warning bell in my head.

‘‘He is an archimage, one of the most powerful men alive,’’ Magoth said, his voice fat with pleasure as he crossed one leather-clad leg over the other.

‘‘Agathos daimon,’’ I groaned, slumping in the chair when I realized why that name sounded so familiar. I wanted to ask him why he would send me to steal something from an archimage, leader of the committee that ruled the L’au-delà (Otherworld), when he knew the repercussions would be heavy, but the answer was all too clear—Magoth considered the end result worth the risk.

‘‘Yes. It would seem that you have made a very dangerous enemy.’’ His gaze turned calculating. ‘‘The price he put on your head was a high one.’’

I swallowed down a lump in my throat. ‘‘Money?’’

‘‘Some. A few million dollars,’’ he answered, waving a dismissive hand at the thought of something so mundane. ‘‘Along with a benefaction.’’

My heart sank, my tongue turning to lead as I stammered, ‘‘A . . . a benefaction?’’

‘‘Yes. Evidently Dr. Kostich doesn’t take kindly to people stealing his valuables. He’s called out the thief takers, in addition to which he has promised not only a monetary reward, but his services, as well.’’

Oh, dear goddess. A benefaction—people have died for mages’ benefactions. Wars have been fought, lives have been forfeited, countries have changed hands, all at the intercession of a benefaction. And here was this mage—no, archimage, the highest of the high— offering not only a couple of million dollars for my capture, but also what amounted to a magic genie willing to grant any wish. ‘‘I am so dead,’’ I murmured, my forehead in my hands.

‘‘Fortunately, that is not the case. It does make one wonder, however. . . .’’ Magoth’s eyes narrowed on me as he flicked cigarette ash onto the top part of a skull that had been inverted and turned into an ashtray. ‘‘Why would Kostich be quite so upset at the loss of Liquor Hepatis?’’

I tried very hard not to fidget, and met his piercing gaze with one I prayed showed nothing but serenity. ‘‘I thought Liquor Hepatis was valuable.’’

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.

‘‘I think it was one of the people at the fur processor. Last weekend when I was in London, I received a note saying that there was a film of myself and the other naiads at the airport in Nova Scotia, bombing the helicopters.’’

I groaned and rubbed my forehead.

‘‘The blackmailer said that unless I give him something, he’ll turn the tape and other evidence over to the mundane police.’’

‘‘Oh, gods.’’ I closed my eyes, imagining the horrible hue and cry that would follow if Cyrene and her fellow naiads were brought to trial in a mortal police court. ‘‘What is it exactly the blackmailer wants you to give him?’’

She was silent for so long, I opened my eyes again to see what she was doing.

‘‘He wants you,’’ she said, watching me closely.

‘‘Me?’’ I asked, confused.

‘‘Yes, you. He said he knew you were my doppelganger, and—’’

‘‘What?’’ I interrupted, my mind reeling with shock. ‘‘No one knows I’m your doppelganger. No one but Magoth and a few of his demons. How could he have found out?’’

‘‘Oh, May . . .’’ Her lower lip quivered as her eyes filled with tears again.

I sighed and put my arm around her, sitting her down on the bed. ‘‘Let’s have it from the beginning. What exactly did this blackmailer say?’’

‘‘He said he’d been doing a job in Chicago, and he saw you.’’

‘‘Chicago?’’ I thought furiously. Four weeks ago Magoth had sent me to Chicago to steal an arcanum— an ancient book detailing some ritual or other used by mages centuries ago. ‘‘Magoth sent me there to get an arcanum. I didn’t get it, though—it was gone when I got to the oracle’s library where it was housed. Did he say who he was working for?’’

Cyrene shook her head, sniffing and wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand until I got up and got her a box of tissues. ‘‘He just said he was working for a dreadlord.’’

‘‘Dreadlord?’’ I frowned in thought. ‘‘That’s another name for a demon lord, isn’t it?’’

‘‘I don’t know. I think so.’’

‘‘It’s got to be Asmodeus,’’ I said, sliding that piece of the puzzle into place. ‘‘Magoth is always going on about how Asmodeus tries to beat him to all the good things. I bet you this blackmailer of yours works for Asmodeus, and he was sent to take the arcanum just like I was. Only he beat me to it. That doesn’t explain how he knew I was a doppelganger, though.’’

‘‘He said he saw you shadow walk.’’

‘‘Oh, great,’’ I said, my shoulders slumping. Only doppelgangers could shadow walk, and if this demon or whoever it was Asmodeus had hired to steal the arcanum saw me slipping out of the shadows, it wouldn’t be impossible for him to put two and two together. ‘‘I suppose he followed me back to the hotel?’’

‘‘Yes. That was the weekend I was in Chicago for the Wiccan festival. Evidently he saw us when we got together for dinner, and . . . well, you can guess the rest.’’

‘‘All too easily, yes.’’ My stomach was tight with anger.

Cyrene continued with obvious hesitation. ‘‘He said that he could use your services, and that if I didn’t get you to agree to do what he asked, he’d see to it that I went to mortal prison. Mayling, I don’t want to go to any prison, let alone a horrid mortal one!’’

I bit back the urge to tell her she should have thought of that before bombing the helicopters and ships, but I knew it wouldn’t do much good. Oh, it was true that Cyrene had stepped over the line—even naiads had to have limits—but it was my carelessness in being seen that escalated the situation from an annoyance to something potentially deadly.

‘‘Are you angry with me?’’ Cyrene asked a few minutes later in a soft little voice.

I clasped my arms around my knees, resting my chin on them. ‘‘No, I’m not angry. In a way, it’s kind of funny that I’m in so much demand. I wonder if the other doppelgangers get so many requests for their talents.’’

‘‘I don’t know. Could you ask them?’’ she said, seriously considering my question.

‘‘I haven’t ever talked to them, and I doubt if that’s a suitable reason to contact any of them,’’ I pointed out gently.

‘‘You don’t talk to them?’’

I shook my head.

‘‘I can’t believe you don’t ever talk to them. I’m always in contact with the other naiads.’’

I was well aware of the fact that the naiads, all forty-eight of them, had banded together in a sisterhood that resembled a sorority more than a collection of elemental spirits, but that was neither here nor there. ‘‘There are six doppelgangers in the world, Cy, and we’re spread out all over the place, so I’m afraid getting us together isn’t very likely. Back to the problem at hand—or one of them—what sort of a deadline did this blackmailer give you?’’

‘‘A week. That was three days ago.’’

‘‘Which gives us four days . . . hmm. I wonder if he knows about the connection to Mei Ling?’’

‘‘I don’t think so. He’d mention that if he did, wouldn’t he?’’ Her expression held a faint flush of hope.

I sighed again. ‘‘I suppose that’s one small blessing to be thankful for.’’

‘‘What are you going to do?’’ Cyrene asked, watching as I took out a small notebook and made a few notes about the blackmailer.

‘‘Nothing right now. I have to take care of this situation first, then we can decide what to do with your blackmailer. We have a little bit of time to figure out what we’ll do.’’

‘‘All right. I feel much better knowing you’re going to take care of things for me,’’ she said with a sincere smile.

‘‘Do you have the original letter he sent you?’’

She nodded. ‘‘It’s in my room.’’

‘‘If he doesn’t have any idea of who I really am, then I don’t think we have much to worry about. I’ll probably be able to fob him off one way or another. Bring me the letter, and I’ll take a look at it a little later. Right now we have to focus on the immediate task at hand. Did you call that holiday rental place for me?’’ I asked.

She perked up at the change of subject. Cyrene might be a trouble magnet, but she really did have a pure heart, and was quite happy at the thought of being of use to me. ‘‘Yes. They said the house is empty now, but people are expected in late tonight or tomorrow.’’

‘‘Hmm. We’ll have to go scout it out and see if the renters have arrived. Let’s hope not, because it’ll make life so much easier if we can use their gardens to get into Dr. Kostich’s.’’ I hoisted myself to my feet and rustled through my bag, pulling out what Cyrene called my cat burglar outfit—black pants, shoes, and shirt, topped with a leather bodice containing several inner pockets, and a small dagger that I wore at my ankle.

‘‘I still don’t see why you’re going to all this trouble when you could simply pop the quintessence thingie in the mail to Dr. Kostich,’’ Cyrene said as she plopped down on the bed.

I disappeared into the bathroom, one eye on the clock as I quickly changed clothes. ‘‘For one thing, I’d never mail something so valuable. You don’t seem to understand just how important quintessence is to alchemists—it’s the above and below.’’

‘‘Huh?’’

‘‘Everything. It’s everything to them, everything they strive for, everything they want to achieve, everything they want to know. It is the living thing that breathes life into all their processes. I didn’t actually think it existed until I saw it. Its importance demands that I replace it where I found it.’’

‘‘Pooh. I say let the mage go without it.’’

‘‘Cy, you don’t seem to understand—this isn’t just an ordinary mage. This is Dr. Kostich, the man who runs the entire L’au-delà. And let me tell you, there are a lot of other things I’d rather do than mess with the guy who leads the Otherworld.’’

‘‘He doesn’t rule naiads,’’ she said indignantly. ‘‘We’re elemental spirits!’’

‘‘And naiads are a part of the L’au-delà. Since Kostich heads up the committee that rules it, that means he has the power to affect even you.’’

‘‘Oh, how bad can he be? He’s a mage,’’ she said dismissively. ‘‘They’re all about arcane magic, and that doesn’t affect you or me.’’

I emerged from the bathroom, tucking my knife into its sheath before donning the leather bodice. ‘‘No, it doesn’t, but there’s something he can do that is very much a problem.’’

‘‘Oh? What?’’

‘‘He has thief takers after me now, Cy.’’

Her eyes opened wide.

I nodded at her look of horror. ‘‘Do you think the mysterious Mei Ling is going to remain so very mysterious with a couple of thief takers on her butt? They’ll track me down in less time than it takes you to get dressed unless I get Kostich to call them off.’’

‘‘I don’t quite see how you’re going to arrange that,’’ she said, frowning as I lay prone on the floor, reaching under the heavy oak dresser to find the small box I’d taped to its underside.

‘‘That’s the easy part. He’ll do anything to get the quintessence back, even calling off the thief takers. The hard part . . .’’ I got to my feet and tucked the precious invisible box away in my bodice. ‘‘The hard part is going to be getting to him. He’s sure to have tons of security after last night, and I can’t trust the quintessence to anyone but him. You know what you have to do?’’

‘‘I’m the distraction. I show up at the front door and attract everyone’s attention while you slip in the back via the garden connecting to the rental house next door. Then you find Dr. Kostich, give him back the thingie, and assumably have him call off the thief takers.’’ Her face was unhappy for a moment before a sunny smile broke through. ‘‘You need me, May. You really need my help.’’

I smiled back. ‘‘Kind of mind-boggling, isn’t it?’’

‘‘Unprecedented, but it won’t be the last time, you’ll see,’’ she promised, gathering up her things as I headed toward the door. ‘‘I’m taking a vow. This blackmail is the last time I will cause you any trouble. From here on out, things are going to change. I’ll be the best twin you ever had, see if I’m not!’’

It’s kind of scary how declarations of that sort come back to haunt you.