Me and My Shadow - Katie MacAlister [70]
“No,” Fiat said simply, and gestured toward the back of the bar. “Go.”
I toyed with the idea of refusing and shadowing, but both Fiat and I knew that although he couldn’t kill Cyrene with his gun, he could damage her mind enough that she would not recover her faculties. It was a threat that all immortals lived with—a body that lived on while a mind was destroyed—and we tended to take such threats seriously.
“Alas, I cannot accompany you,” Magoth said, eyeing the reflection of his bared behind in a mirror next to the door. “I have appointments that must not be missed. I assume you will deal with this dragon and be at your bed at the appointed time?”
“I wouldn’t count on her being in her bed any more than I would count”—Fiat gestured toward two men who sat near the door; they rose and took up positions in front of it—“on you making your appointments.”
“Perhaps a tattoo of myself during my film days on the left cheek,” Magoth murmured before Fiat’s words sank in. He stopped admiring himself and turned a chilly glare on Fiat.
I stilled, noting that although Magoth was almost powerless, he still had a little corona of blackness around him that, when he was riled, snapped out at the unwary.
“You dare to defy me, dragon?” he asked, his voice as slick as ice.
I knew that voice. I knew that look in his eyes. What I didn’t know was whether Fiat would respond to the threat that suddenly soaked the very air around us.
Fiat leaned forward and smiled at Magoth. “Gossip flies quickly in the Otherworld. I have had word of you, and know that you have been expelled from Abaddon without your powers.”
Magoth’s gaze shifted to me for a moment, and I froze solid, terrified he would do or say something that would bring attention to the fact that I now had his powers. “My consort has initiated an appeal. My reinstatement should be forthcoming soon, a fact you would be wise to remember lest I seek payment for the insult you do me.”
Magoth was lying through his teeth about the appeal, but no one but he and I knew it, and I certainly wasn’t going to correct him. He would never go to Gabriel of his own accord and tell him I was in trouble, but when it became known that Cyrene, Jim, and I were missing, Gabriel would hunt down Magoth and get the truth out of him.
Fiat made a mock sigh. “Everyone fights me. No one sees the sense in just doing as I ask. Renaldo?”
One of the two blond dragons behind Magoth took a step forward, then whipped his arm around from where he’d been holding it behind his back. Before I could call out a warning, he walloped Magoth on the head with a weighted leather blackjack.
Magoth’s expression turned to one of ecstasy for a moment; then his eyes rolled back and his body slumped to the ground.
“Now he’s going to want you to do that every night,” I told the dragon named Renaldo as he and the other man picked up Magoth.
Fiat poked me in the side with the gun. “You will come with me now.”
“Looks like I have no choice,” I said calmly, and went down the passage he indicated, Magoth hauled behind us.
Chapter Eleven
The only thing that surprised me about the house was that it was so remarkably normal-looking.
“Normal if you’re used to gorgeous Tudor redbrick mansions, that is,” I murmured to myself as we drove through the security gates and up a mile-long drive. The house sat on the crest of a gentle hill, framed by a semicircle of stately willow and lime trees along the sides and back of the house, beyond which I could see the glint of water—probably a large pond or a small lake.
“What are you talking about?” Cyrene asked.
“Nothing. What did you ask me to do?”
“Uh-oh. You’re not hearing voices, are you? Ash started doing that, and it turned out really bad,” Jim said, covertly wiping its mouth on Fiat’s shoes.
Cyrene shot a glance toward Fiat, moodily looking out the window, before she leaned in close