‘‘Hey! Belly scratches happenin’ here!’’ the demon protested, its back legs kicking as Cyrene obediently scratched at the hairy stomach.

‘‘Off!’’ Aisling ordered, pointing to the door. She gave me an apologetic smile as the demon left, muttering under its breath. ‘‘You’ll have to forgive Jim. I think its nose is a bit out of joint because of all the attention focused on the baby. Is there anything else you need?’’

Cyrene, reclining against a mountain of pillows, waved a wan, pale hand. ‘‘No, thank you. I’m comfortable, but tired, very, very tired.’’ She punctuated her sentence with a gigantic yawn.

‘‘All right, then. Shout out if you need anything,’’ Aisling said, glancing across the room to where her wyvern stood leaning against the wall, silently watching us. ‘‘Drake?’’

‘‘We would like to see you downstairs when your twin can spare you,’’ he said to me before walking over to his wife, holding the door open for her.

I didn’t bother replying since he clearly was issuing an order, not a request. I simply waited for the door to close behind them before hurrying over to the two windows in the room.

‘‘Agathos daimon,’’ I swore as I tried to open them. They were both warded against dark beings, which meant I wouldn’t be able to get out of them.

‘‘What’s wrong? Mayling! You’re not thinking of leaving?’’ Cyrene asked.

‘‘Well, I’m not thinking about staying, if that’s what’s on your mind. We have to get out of here, Cy.’’ I spun around, eyeing the room to consider possible avenues of escape. There wasn’t much in the room but a bed, two chairs, a couple of dressers, and two doors—one that led to the hallway, the other to a shared bathroom.

The bathroom!

‘‘Why?’’ Cyrene asked as I hurried toward it. The window inside it was too small to climb through, but there was another room on the other side of it. Obviously Aisling had warded the windows to this room with the intention of keeping me prisoner, but hope rose within me that she might have forgotten the connecting room’s windows.

‘‘Mayling?’’ Cy’s voice followed me as I persuaded the lock on the door to the other room to release, swinging open the door to find myself face-to-face with the healer named Gabriel, who was tending to a shirtless Istvàn.

‘‘Oh! I’m . . . sorry. Just . . . uh . . . carry on,’’ I said lamely, quickly retreating through the bathroom to Cyrene’s room before either man could say anything.

I was extremely aware of an amused silver-eyed gaze on me as I backed out.

‘‘May?’’ Cyrene’s brow furrowed. ‘‘Whatever is the matter with you? You’re beet red!’’

‘‘Nothing,’’ I said, locking her door to the bathroom. ‘‘Er . . . what was it you asked me a minute ago?’’

‘‘Why?’’ she repeated.

‘‘Why what?’’

‘‘Why do we have to get out of here so quickly? That Aisling seems very nice, not like a demon lord at all. I can’t wait to tell the sisters that I met her— they’ll be thrilled. Do you think she’d give me her autograph?’’

‘‘I have no idea, but as nice as she is, those dragons are nothing but trouble. I’ll feel much better when we’re out of here.’’

‘‘Oh, I don’t know,’’ she said with a dreamy note to her voice, a little smile on her lips as she smoothed out the blanket covering her. ‘‘That silver dragon Gabriel is absolutely stunning, don’t you think? He has such a nice voice, and those dimples just make me want to pounce on him.’’

I stared at her for a moment, a strange unhappiness twanging my consciousness at her words. Why shouldn’t she find him attractive? I certainly did. But down that path I could not go, so I pushed down the unhappiness, focusing on what was important. ‘‘He’s also a wyvern, and you and I both know that means trouble. Wyverns are all-powerful, and frankly, they make me nervous.’’

‘‘I think he liked me, too,’’ she continued, her eyes shining as she gazed at the ceiling. ‘‘His hands were so gentle on me, Mayling; you have no idea how wonderful it felt to have him stroking my neck.’’

Something awfully close to a spike of jealousy stabbed through me. I squashed it mercilessly. I’d never been jealous of Cyrene’s romantic interests in the past, and I certainly wasn’t about to start.

‘‘How do you feel?’’ I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to scrutinize her face. ‘‘How do you really feel? Do you think you can walk if I help you?’’

The dreamy look left her face, replaced with a frail-looking expression. ‘‘Oh, Mayling, you’re going to think I’m the most horrid creature ever, but I truly do feel tired. Gabriel said that my body went through so much energy to start the healing process, it might take me a little bit before I’d be back to normal.’’

I’d been standing right next to her when he said that, but I didn’t point that out. I frowned down at my hands, wondering what the best plan would be. Should I trust the dragons and leave Cyrene in their care while I managed the situation with Kostich? My instincts said that she was all right, but she was still very pale, and apparently quite weak. What if she had been permanently damaged by the attack? Would even a healer as competent as the silver wyvern be able to help her?

Those questions and a thousand others chased around in my head as I watched Cyrene drift toward sleep.

‘‘You go see what they want,’’ she murmured, her eyes drooping shut. ‘‘More specifically, see what Gabriel wants from you.’’

My lips tightened at the reminder of his comment earlier. Oh, I knew what he wanted: the same thing every other unconscionable being in the Otherworld wanted from me. I waited until I was sure she was asleep, then squared my shoulders and mentally girded my loins to face the dragons in their den.

‘‘—had no idea that doppelgangers could become invisible like that. That’s an incredibly powerful ability. It’s no wonder she abuses it, although—oh, May. I’m . . . er . . . this is embarrassing,’’ Aisling said as I entered the room that opened onto the patio, a faint flush pinkening her cheeks. ‘‘It seems I’m doomed to put my foot in my mouth around you.’’

I gave her a little smile. She seemed nice enough, quite pleasant for a demon lord, displaying none of the traits common to Magoth. ‘‘Don’t let it bother you,’’ I said politely, hesitating at the entrance of the room. Aisling and Drake were sitting together on a sofa, Pál standing in the background, talking quietly with a now-bandaged István.

Gabriel stood leaning against the wall, a glass of red wine in his hand. His dimples deepened slightly as he spotted me, gesturing with the glass to the bar beside me. ‘‘May I offer you a beverage, May?’’

‘‘Whatever you’re having is fine,’’ I said, obediently taking the seat that Aisling waved me to. Behind me, the man and woman who seemed to be accompanying Gabriel took seats. I had a feeling they had chosen their spots with care.

‘‘I don’t think that would be wise at all,’’ Gabriel answered with an enigmatic smile, pouring out a glass of a local red wine.

I accepted it, my gaze flickering from him, to Aisling, to the silent but watchful Drake, and back again. Aisling chatted for a few minutes about the pleasant evening and the area we were in. I took a couple of sips of my wine, making noncommittal replies whenever it seemed called for.

‘‘Have we met before?’’ Aisling suddenly asked, a smile on her lips as she added, ‘‘I’m sorry, that came out terribly rude, didn’t it? It’s just that you look so familiar . . .’’

‘‘Louise Brooks,’’ I said, with a half smile of my own.

‘‘I beg your pardon?’’

‘‘I look like Louise Brooks. It’s the hair, mostly, I think,’’ I said, smoothing my hand over my short bob.

‘‘I like it,’’ Gabriel said to my astonishment. ‘‘Your hair is glossy and black, like the wing of a blackbird. You are small like a bird, too.’’

Momentarily dumbfounded by both the comments and the warm undertone almost imperceptible in his voice, I was silent for a few seconds before continuing. ‘‘Louise was a silent movie star. Cyrene fell in love with the flapper styles of the early 1920s and was a dead ringer for Louise. Thus, when Cyrene created me, I looked like Louise as well. Cy usually wears her hair differently than me, but a couple of months ago she went to a costume party and decided to re-create her flapper look.’’

‘‘She . . . created you?’’ Aisling asked, looking astounded.

‘‘Yes. Doppelgangers are created when their twin gives up a part of themselves. In Cyrene’s case, she sacrificed her common sense in order to create me.’’ My lips tightened. I didn’t mind talking about doppelgangers in general, but I was not going to go into any more details about my creation, or subsequent bondage to Magoth.

‘‘That’s very interesting,’’ she said. Jim the demon wandered in from the yard, taking up a spot at her feet.

‘‘Are you finished?’’ Drake asked her.

My stomach tightened uncomfortably at the hard look he turned on me.

‘‘Yes, but you could have made more of an effort to participate in a little polite conversation,’’ she told him, pinching his thigh. ‘‘Please forgive him, May. Dragons normally have the most exquisite manners, but for some reason, tonight Drake seems to have misplaced his.’’

I avoided looking at István. I wasn’t feeling guilty about biting him—he had done far, far worse to Cyrene—but that was clearly not going to be a welcome subject of discussion.

‘‘I’m sure you’re all tired, so why don’t I save everyone from dancing around the issue,’’ I said, wincing at the abruptness of my tone. My eyes went over to where Gabriel had resumed his position. He seemed relaxed enough, but there was a sense of tension surrounding him that seemed oddly out of place, despite the events of the evening. ‘‘You want me to do something for you. Why don’t you just tell me what it is?’’

The humor that seemed so comfortable in Gabriel’s eyes faded, the gray in them dulling. He glanced toward Drake. ‘‘There is a . . . situation.’’

Drake’s eyes narrowed on me.

Jim pursed its lips.

‘‘What sort of a situation?’’ I asked, not really wanting to know.

Cicadas chirped in the silence that followed.

Aisling looked from one dragon to the other, sighing and heaving herself over a bit on the couch so she could lean toward me. ‘‘Honestly, dragons! Here’s the deal, May—Drake is the wyvern of the green dragons.’’

I nodded.

‘‘His brother was the wyvern-in-training of the black dragons.’’

‘‘His brother? I didn’t think families could be split like that,’’ I said slowly.

‘‘It’s a long story, but basically, Drake was claimed by his grandmother’s green dragon family, while Kostya, his brother, was in line to take over as wyvern of the black dragons. Only there was a problem with Baltic, the wyvern at the time. You see, the silver dragons were once part of the black dragon family, but they left to form their own sept.’’

‘‘After several hundred years of abuse by Baltic,’’ Gabriel said, his eyes still dull.

‘‘Baltic didn’t want them to be off on their own, and he basically destroyed his own sept trying to get the silver dragons back.’’

‘‘I see.’’ I wondered what all this had to do with me.

‘‘The few existing black dragons who survived—how many, sweetie?’’ she interrupted herself to ask Drake.

‘‘Less than ten,’’ he answered, his hand stroking gently on her back.

‘‘The few existing black dragons who survived went into hiding, Drake’s brother Kostya included. Because he’d sworn to uphold Baltic’s plan to bring the silver dragons back into the fold, you see.’’

I didn’t see, but I wasn’t about to slow down the information dump.

‘‘So, long story short—’’

‘‘There isn’t anything short about your stories,’’ Jim muttered.

‘‘Long story short,’’ Aisling repeated in a louder voice, ‘‘Baltic was killed by Kostya, but it was too late—the damage had been done and the sept was destroyed. Kostya went to ground. Later he was kidnapped and held prisoner, although no one seems to know by whom. Drake found him and we rescued him a couple of months ago.’’

Unbidden, my gaze went to Gabriel. He took a long pull on his drink, then strolled across the room, setting his glass down on the table next to me. His face was shuttered and absolutely expressionless as he looked down on me.

‘‘I take it that this Kostya is making your life hell?’’ I asked him, dread building within me. I began to see what it was he wanted me for.

‘‘That would be an understatement,’’ he said, turning to look out into the darkness.

I set down my own glass carefully lest I end up snapping the thin stem. ‘‘I think I should tell you all that I am not a hit man. I will not kill anyone, let alone a dragon.’’

‘‘Oh, we don’t want you to kill Kostya! He’s Drake’s brother, no matter how annoying he may be,’’ Aisling said quickly. ‘‘It’s the phylactery. We want you to steal it back from him.’’

‘‘What phylactery?’’ I asked, my heart sinking. Why was it that people saw me only for my talent, and never for who I truly was?

‘‘Kostya took a phylactery from me. He intends on using it against the silver dragons in an attempt to annex them,’’ Drake said.

‘‘I see,’’ I said again.

‘‘You’re Mei Ling, the cat burglar everyone is talking about,’’ Aisling said, her face worried. ‘‘You can get the phylactery back for us, can’t you?’’

I lifted my hand in a vague gesture, unsure of what I wanted to say. With the intention of stalling for a few seconds, I snatched up my glass instead, but the moment the wine hit my tongue, I realized I’d taken Gabriel’s glass instead. It was as if I was drinking liquid hellfire.

‘‘Agathos daimon!’’ I yelped, dropping the glass and jumping to my feet as flames burst out around my feet.

‘‘Not me,’’ Aisling said when Drake looked at her. ‘‘That fire isn’t mine.’’

Gabriel spun around, his eyes glowing with a sudden light as he watched me stamp out the flames that licked my toes.

‘‘Holy cow,’’ Aisling said, watching me with openmouthed amazement. ‘‘Did she just drink what I think she did?’’

Gabriel picked the glass up off the floor, running his finger around the now-empty glass, tasting the remnants with an indescribable look as I put out the last of the flames. ‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Oh, man, two in one year?’’ Jim asked, an odd expression on its face. ‘‘What’re the odds?’’

‘‘I’m sorry about the rug,’’ I told Aisling, grabbing a couple of napkins to try to soak up the spilled wine. ‘‘I must have grabbed the wrong glass. That’s a heck of a drink. What is it?’’

I could still taste the heady beverage on my lips, a spicy mix that had a hint of cloves and cinnamon, and a heavy red wine that was blended with something indefinable.

‘‘It’s called dragon’s blood,’’ Gabriel answered, his eyes glittering brightly as he took a step nearer to me. ‘‘Would you like more?’’

The man in black who was sitting behind me jumped up and said something in a language I didn’t recognize.

Gabriel ignored him, watching me with close attention that left me feeling somewhat flustered. ‘‘Um . . . sure. That would be nice.’’

No one spoke a word as Gabriel took a dusty bottle out from behind the bar, pouring out a glass of wine.

‘‘Thank you,’’ I said, accepting it, uncomfortable with the way everyone was watching me so closely. With nothing else to do, I took a sip of the drink. I was ready for it this time, but even so, the drink roared through me, setting my blood afire with its heat.

‘‘Would you mind if I tried a quick experiment?’’ Gabriel asked, breaking the silence.

‘‘I suppose not,’’ I said, looking around nervously. Everyone in the room, everyone from the demon dog on down to the two people who sat behind me, watched me with an intensity that made my palms sweat. What on earth was wrong with them all?

‘‘Good.’’ Gabriel held out his hand for me. I accepted it, but rather than releasing me as I expected, he pulled me into an embrace, his body hard against mine as he suddenly kissed me.

I stiffened for a moment, unsure of what I should do. My first instinct was to shadow and break his grip on me, but the feeling of his mouth on mine had a curiously numbing effect on my brain. I couldn’t seem to think as his tongue licked the corner of my mouth, urging my lips to part. Without conscious thought, they did so, allowing him entrance. He tasted like the drink, spicy, but with a faint woodsy note that I found very pleasing. His tongue twined around mine for a moment, then suddenly, I was filled with fire—his fire! Instinctively, I shadowed, but the fire still filled me, overspilling to spiral around me, its intensity building and building until finally, it burst out of me and spun back around him. It was an exhilarating feeling, one that left me both stunned and incredibly aroused.

‘‘Holy cow!’’ I heard Aisling exclaim. ‘‘She’s OK! She’s . . . she’s . . .’’

‘‘A wyvern’s mate,’’ Drake said, a note of wonder in his voice.

Their words sank into my head as I put both hands on Gabriel’s chest, shoving back hard enough to separate us. I stared up at him, my brain still lost between confusion and a rising passion.

His eyes positively glowed, like lightning trapped in a crystal sphere. ‘‘No mate shall be born to any members until a black dragon is accepted as wyvern,’’ he said.

‘‘Pardon?’’ I asked, trying to pull my wits together.

His arms tightened as I tried to move out of his embrace. ‘‘It’s a curse. Our sept was cursed by Baltic. Until the day when a black dragon is accepted as a wyvern, no mate will be born to any of its members.’’ His lips curved into a smile, and I found myself watching his mouth, remembering just how delicious he tasted.

Suddenly Gabriel whooped, and scooped me up in his arms, spinning us around in a circle. ‘‘But you’re a doppelganger, May! You weren’t born!’’

‘‘I’m not quite . . . I don’t understand—’’ I stammered, confused as to what on earth he was so excited about.

‘‘Good lord,’’ Aisling said, getting to her feet, a huge smile on her face as she hurried over to hug me despite the fact that I was still being held by Gabriel. ‘‘You’re a wyvern’s mate! Gabriel’s mate! I never thought I’d see the day!’’

‘‘Gabriel’s . . .’’ The sentence dribbled off as I looked with astonishment at the man who was beaming at me.

His dimples deepened, his eyes alight with a wicked glint that made me feel like I was drinking dragon’s blood again. ‘‘A mate at long last. My mate.’’

Oh, gods! Now what was I going to do?