There was a horrible sucking noise, followed by a wet gurgle, and a thump as something heavy hit the floor.
Fiat backed into view again, wiping a now bloodied blade on a piece of cloth. “As my good friend says, power flows to the wyvern, not away from him.”
He smiled contentedly as he replaced the sword on the wall.
Chapter Seventeen
I clapped a hand over Cyrene’s mouth even before she could draw breath to scream.
“Don’t make a sound,” I whispered, my mouth close to her ear.
Her eyes widened, and she struggled as if she was going to pull away from me and scream her lungs out.
“There is a madman with a very lethal sword just a few feet away,” I pointed out.
She stopped struggling and nodded. I released her and reapplied my eye to the narrow space in the doorway.
Fiat stood at the opened door opposite, calling to someone. A couple of his bodyguards and two others trooped into the room.
“Remove that,” he said nonchalantly, waving toward the area where Bao had stood.
The stark expressions of disbelief on his men’s faces had to match the one I wore; they certainly mirrored Cyrene’s.
“What are you waiting for?” Fiat demanded, raising his voice as his dragons just stood there, clearly too astounded to do anything. “I want that removed, and this place cleaned up. There is much I must attend to, and little time in which to ensure there will be no trouble from the red dragons.”
One of the bodyguards grabbed a blanket that was draped over a chair and moved out of view. He returned hauling what I could only assume was Bao’s body, thankfully covered with the blanket. Another man followed with another object, also wrapped.
“Clean up the blood,” Fiat barked, waving an authoritative hand. “And remove all signs that she was here. Stephano, go upstairs and take care of her guards.”
A handsome blond man lifted his eyebrows in silent question.
Fiat growled, “Just get rid of them. I won’t have them interfering.”
Stephano hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded and left. I closed the door carefully, my heart beating wildly as I turned to look at a shaken Cyrene. Maata stood with an impassive look on her face, but her eyes were bright with emotion.
“We have to get out of here,” I told them softly. “I really do not want Fiat to know we’re here, or what we’ve seen.”
“We will go out the way we came in,” Maata agreed.
She waited until Cyrene and I hurried through the door to the tunnel before following us.
“That means we’ll have to go back out through the lake,” I pointed out, flipping on the tiny flashlight.
She grimaced. “It can’t be helped. We must report this news to Gabriel.”
Our trip out of the depths of Fiat’s tunnels was fraught with tension, but no real danger. It was a bit of a battle to get Maata out, since she refused when Cyrene offered to deck her, but in the end we managed by dint of yet another sleeper hold.
Maata and I both ended up swallowing water in the struggle to get her out, however, and I swore, as I crawled onto the banks of the lake and collapsed, hacking and wheezing as I tried to replace the water in my lungs with air, that I heard her mutter something about never again accepting watchdog duty.
I had to admit I didn’t blame her.
Gabriel, however, had another opinion, one that was made all too clear when, several hours later, we straggled into the Paris suite.
“You did what?” he asked Maata as she stood before him, his lovely smooth voice going a bit gravelly around the edges. His fingers flexed, a sign that I was coming to know also meant he was upset.
“You can yell all you want. I’m going to find Kostya,” Cyrene said, dark smudges beneath her eyes. She didn’t even say good-bye, just turned around and walked out of the room.
“May wished to follow the man she thought was Baltic, so we did. I did not leave her side at any time, and we were in no actual danger—” I heard Maata say as I went to the bedroom to drop off my overnight bag, but she was interrupted when Gabriel growled out a word I didn’t recognize.
Maata’s face, when I emerged from the bedroom, had adopted a stony look that spoke volumes. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I thought—”
“Well, I’m not sorry, not one little bit,” I said, stopping her before she could apologize further.
Tipene sat at a table beyond, silently tapping away at a laptop, but glancing between his wyvern and fellow bodyguard.
“Little bird,” Gabriel started to say, but I held up a hand.
“Don’t even think of telling me this is none of my business. Maata didn’t want me to go after the mysterious dragon, but I weighed the options and decided that the chance to find out who he was made it worth the risk. So if you want to vent your spleen on someone, do it on me and not her.”
Gabriel looked for a moment like he was going to explode, but suddenly relaxed and managed a wry smile. “Drake told me you were going to drive me insane. I thought he was basing his opinion on the fact that Aisling often puts him in that state of mind, but now I begin to see the true wisdom of his words.”
“Except you are much more flexible and not nearly so stodgy as Drake is.” I answered him with a smile of my own, drawn as if by magnetism across the room until I stood in front of him. I put my hands on his chest, stroking the soft material of his shirt, my fingers leaving little trails of fire. “Which means that once you realize that we were in no danger at all, you will stop feeling the need to do the protective male thing, and will sit down and listen to what we have to say. Am I right?”
“Grrr,” he said, his fingers still flexing.
“Am I right?” I cooed, rubbing my nose against his and biting his lower lip.
“If you’re going to attempt to seduce me into a good mood, it’ll take quite a bit more effort than that,” he answered, his eyes lighting with renewed interest.
Inside me, love, lust, desire, need . . . a whole swirling mass of emotion flared to immediate life, powered by the dragon shard.
I stepped back, dropping my hands, not wanting to lose any more of myself. “Perhaps later. We have some important news to tell you, and I really don’t think it can wait.”
A curious look passed over his face but was gone before I could try to figure it out. “I have news for you as well, but by all means, tell me about the dragon you followed.”
Maata murmured a few words and slipped out to change her clothes.
“She’s been through a lot, you know,” I told Gabriel as he led me over to a couch. “The only way we could get into Fiat’s underground area was via the lake.”
He refrained from shuddering, but I suspected it was a close thing.
“We’ll skip over the part detailing how we got her through to the tunnel’s entrance,” I said, smiling as she emerged from her room, pulling on a dark sweater.
She made a face and took up a second laptop, sitting next to Tipene at the table.
I went over our actions that led us to the underground chambers, reporting most of the conversation between Fiat and the other dragons.
“You saw the man fully this time?” Gabriel asked.
“The dark-haired one? Not his face. He had his back to me in the room underground, and when we saw him earlier, in the square, he was partially in shadows.”
“Interesting. Describe him to me,” Gabriel said, one hand resting on my knee as he closed his eyes in thought.
I went over a description of the man, pausing as something occurred to me. “Something doesn’t mesh. I think I’m wrong. He can’t be Baltic.”
One of Gabriel’s eyes opened to consider me. “Why not?”
I sorted over the conversation again, picking out pertinent points. “Fiat made the comment to Bao about hearing the power-flowing-to-wyverns advice before, from Baltic. If the man was Baltic, then why would he say that?”
Gabriel shrugged, his fingers gently stroking my knee. I fought hard to
stifle the fire that wanted to burst into being within me. “He also called him old friend, and the dragon made reference to Fiat providing him with succor. That fits with what Drake found a few months ago, when he and Aisling made an attack on Fiat’s lair.”
“That doesn’t explain how Baltic could be, period, given that Kostya swears he killed him.”
“No, it doesn’t.” Gabriel looked thoughtful for a few minutes. I was about to broach the most important bit of news when he said, “Tell me about the female who was with him.”
“The redhead?” I frowned, trying to pull together my memories. “I don’t know what there is to tell about her. She looked perfectly normal, a little on the tall side, with coppery red hair and a slightly German accent. And she was a dragon.”
“No,” Maata said, looking up from her laptop.
“No what?” Gabriel asked her.
“No, she was not a dragon.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Are you sure? She felt to me like a dragon.”
“She was not a dragon. She had dragon blood, yes, but she was not a dragon,” Maata insisted.
“Mixed heritage, you mean?” I asked, looking back at Gabriel. “But isn’t that the definition of a wyvern?”
“Not necessarily,” he answered. “A wyvern must have one human parent and one dragon parent.”
“I don’t see the difference.”
“The woman with the dark-haired one was not human,” Maata said, looking rather cryptically at Gabriel.
“Oh, I understand now. You mean she might have a dragon father and a nonhuman mother, say like a sylph or something?”
Maata nodded.
“You seem really interested in her,” I said, eyeing the man at my side. “Should I work up a jealous fit or just go invest in a case of copper hair dye?”
His dimples flashed for a moment. “Neither. If I am interested, it is simply because of what the woman is not.”
“Meaning she wasn’t a wyvern’s mate named Ysolde?” I asked, wondering whether he’d been thinking about that, as I had.
He nodded. “This female, whoever she is, was not Ysolde. Which I admit makes your case for the dragon not being Baltic a bit stronger.”
“Because Ysolde was his mate, and if she died, then he’d be dead, too? I agree.” I twined my fingers through his, momentarily comforted by the contact before the dragon shard decided I needed more.
I stood up and went to the window to look out on a rainy Paris.
“Ysolde was believed to have been Constantine Norka’s mate, not Baltic’s,” Gabriel said in a neutral tone.
I leaned against the window and cocked an eyebrow at him. “That sounds like you’re not sure she was.”
“I do not know for certain either way—I am simply stating the facts as they are known. Regardless of the female’s identity, your description of the conversation increases my desire to meet this mysterious dragon.”
I glanced at Maata. She watched me with close attention, clearly leaving it to me to tell Gabriel of the important happening.
“There’s more,” I said. “Right after whoever-he-is left, Fiat and Bao had a few words.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Gabriel said. “Fiat has always been subject to volatile emotions, and he seems especially unstable now.”
I took a deep breath. “More than you imagine. He beheaded Bao.”
To my complete and utter surprise, he didn’t leap up or exclaim in shock. Instead he nodded. “I expected something of that sort.”
“You expected it?” I asked. “Why?”
“It relates to my news,” he said, rising to take my hands in his. “Two hours before you landed in Paris, Fiat sent a message to the weyr announcing that he had challenged and defeated Bao for control of the red sept.”
“He did no such thing. He murdered her, pure and simple,” I said, outraged. “There was no challenge language whatsoever—he just snatched a sword from the wall and lopped off her head. Or at least we assume that’s what he did; fortunately, his men covered up the two separate parts of her that they hauled off.”
“He has clearly overstepped the bounds of weyr laws and must be dealt with immediately.” Gabriel looked past me, sightlessly gazing out of the window. “The problem is—”
“May! You’re back! Oh, I’m so happy to see you again!”
Gabriel froze at the bright, sickeningly chirpy voice, followed by the person of Sally.
She hurried into the room, clad in some sort of frilly pink and lavender capri pant set, her face beaming with joy as she stopped in front of me, kissing the air millimeters away from my cheeks.
“Hello, Sally,” I said slowly. “I see you’re still here.”
“She says she can’t leave,” Gabriel said in a voice completely lacking in expression. I assumed it was his way of being polite.
She giggled, shooting him a flirtatious look. “May, there’s so much we have to talk about! That silly Magoth needed some me time—you know how men are, always thinking the world revolves around them when it’s clearly we women who run things—anyway, he sent me here to learn all the ins and outs of consorting, not that I really need to do so because as you well know, I’m destined for greater things than a lowly position like the one you have. Hello again, Gabriel. You are looking especially handsome.”
The hair on the back of my neck rose at the way she positively purred his name.
“More handsome than half an hour ago, when you told him the same thing?” Tipene asked with studied nonchalance as he continued to tap away at his laptop.
Sally ignored him.
“Sally,” I said, smiling as pleasantly as I could. “Do you remember what I told you on the phone?”
Her seductive little smile at Gabriel faded as she eyed me instead. “I do, and sugar, we need to have a little talk about that. While I applaud the style of your threat—the gluing hair on backwards part was particularly inventive, and bows made of entrails are always suitable at a torture session—I do have to withdraw a few points for lack of follow-through. Everyone knows a threat is really only intimidating if the threatener has the ability to actually conduct the action upon the threatenee, and you are so clearly not the sort of person who carries a disemboweling knife upon herself . . . oh.”
Sally made a little expression of unhappiness as I pulled the dagger out of its sheath at my ankle.
“I see I was mistaken,” she said, taking a step away from Gabriel.
“Have I mentioned how adorable you are when you’re jealous?” the latter asked me, his eyes dancing with laughter.
“It’s a mistake I would urge you to not make again,” I told Sally pleasantly. “Forgive me for being blunt, but it’s been a long twenty-four hours. What exactly would it take to get you to leave?”
“Well!” she said, her nostrils flaring in offense. She slid a glance along to Gabriel. “You see? This is what I was speaking of. She’s clearly much more suitable as dear Magoth’s consort, not that he has any idea of May’s true character, the poor, misguided fool.”
I blinked in surprise. While Sally might be an unconventional candidate for demon lord, she had thus far maintained an attitude of respect for Magoth. “Did you just call Magoth a fool?”
“Did I? I wouldn’t know; I’m too busy being hurt by your extreme lack of any and all social graces. But it does not take a leviathan to hit me over the head.” She lifted her chin and tried for a quelling glare down her nose at me. “It is clear to me that you do not wish for my company at this time. Naturally, I will not stay where I am not wanted, even though my removal will clearly put you in violation of your role as consort, and thus will mean your imminent demise. But that concerns me not. I will go pack my things and leave as soon as I can.”
Gabriel stopped her, not that she was trying very hard to leave. “What do you mean it will mean May’s imminent demise?”
“And how, exactly, would asking you to leave be violating my consorthood?” I asked.
She issued an inj
ured sniff. “If you had taken the time to read the pertinent section of the Doctrine of Unending Conscious, you’d know that consorts to demon lords are bound to follow the laws set down in the doctrine exactly, and that any violations would leave you in contempt of the very legal and binding contract you agreed to when you became Magoth’s consort.”
“I’ve read the Doctrine, and I don’t remember seeing anything about contempt,” I said slowly, poking through the memories of all the important points of the set of laws that govern Abaddon.
“Then either you have an extremely poor memory, or you simply didn’t take in the full meaning of the Doctrine, because it’s all there: the laws that you agreed to, and the punishments that will be meted out should you be found in violation, which, in the matter of consorts, means immediate and unconditional loss of status.” She smiled, a ghastly smile, one that reaffirmed my belief that she would be well suited to the role of demon lord. “Loss of status is bound to mean your utter and complete destruction, in this and all other plains of existence.”
Gabriel frowned at me. “May, you did not tell me about this.”
“That’s because there’s nothing at all about a consort being destroyed in the Doctrine,” I objected, horror growing inside me. “I swear I read the Doctrine the whole way through, Gabriel, and there was nothing there about a consort risking the loss of her existence.”
“It’s not in the Doctrine per se,” Sally said as she examined a pale pink fingernail.
“It’s not? Then why—”
“It’s in one of the codicils,” she said, interrupting me. Although her expression was still one of haughty disdain, there was a marked sense of enjoyment that even I could feel. “Surely you read the volume of codicils?”
I looked at Gabriel. He looked back at me, his face passive. I was about to explain to him that I didn’t know there was such a thing as codicils to the Doctrine when the dragon shard decided that if I was going to be this near Gabriel, I should stop wasting time and get on with the business of mating.
Desire crashed over me in a tidal wave that left me breathless, and filled only with a deep, desperate need for Gabriel. I wrapped my arms around myself to keep from flinging them around him, struggling to calm my suddenly wildly beating heart. I closed my eyes, focused on the inner war that raged between the dragon shard and myself, determined to beat it once and for all. I was not going to give in to it. I would have Gabriel on my terms, and no other.