Playing with Fire (3 page)

She grimaced. ‘‘Me and my big mouth.’’

‘‘Oh, it’s not that bad—it means less attention on me if everyone is looking for an Asian woman. Ugh. I can’t go into the hotel like this. I’ll shadow walk to my room. Will you be OK?’’

She’d had a century to practice the long-suffering look she bestowed upon me, but my lips twitched at it nonetheless. ‘‘I’m not inept, May! I am perfectly capable of entering a hotel and making my way to my room without encountering any assassins, thugs, anarchists, or muggers, thank you.’’

‘‘Sorry,’’ I said, contritely.

‘‘Honestly! You treat me like I’m the child and you’re the parent, when it’s the other way round. I’m almost twelve hundred years old, you know! Just because I need a little help now and again doesn’t mean I can’t do
anything
without you. . . .’’

She marched off to the elevator with an indignant twitch of her shoulders. I followed more slowly, avoiding the overhead lights and taking the less-used stairs as a question danced elusively in my mind.

How on earth was I going to get the quintessence back to the mage without being caught?

Chapter Two

‘‘Good morning. Is Magoth in?’’

‘‘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.’’