‘‘I guess.’’ I stood for a moment in the hallway, noting absently that Cyrene’s assessment of quality was, as ever, dead on. The house mightn’t be a huge mansion, but it was located in Marylebone, right in the center of London, and it appeared to be furnished simply but elegantly. I touched a finger to the halfpaneled wall before slowly following Cyrene. She explored the house, scattering excited little oohs and ahs of pleasure behind her as she ran from room to room. I paused to look in the sitting room, decorated with antiques of cream, rose, and gold, admired the kitchen with its huge marble-topped center block, and finally stopped at the back of the house, in a parquet-floored conservatory sporting tall palms and a beautiful blue-gray granite fireplace that had to be at least three hundred years old.
It was all lovely, perfectly charming… and utterly lifeless. It was as if Gabriel had never even been there at all, as if his presence hadn’t touched the house in any way.
‘‘The master bathtub is divine!’’ Cyrene announced, coming down from the second floor. ‘‘Would you mind…?’’
‘‘Go ahead,’’ I said, sitting gingerly on the edge of a spindly legged chair.
‘‘You know how a bath always makes me feel better.’’ She started to go, but paused, looking back at where I sat. ‘‘Is something wrong, Mayling? You have the oddest look on your face. Don’t you like the house?’’
‘‘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.
