Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [108]
‘‘We don’t. We will if it is absolutely necessary, as it is now, but if at all possible, we prefer to use alternate means of travel. Go into the Dreaming, little bird. I will be there as soon as I can.’’
The portal shop Cyrene had visited was one of two located in England. Portals offered individuals with large amounts of money at hand the ability to travel across the fabric of reality in the blink of an eye. Portals were quirky things, however, and even the best of the portal masters had only a tenuous ability to predict exactly where the summoned portal would open.
I remained hidden in the shadow world until Gabriel arrived, Savian in tow. We wasted no time in querying the portalist, a weaver by the name of Jarilith, about Cyrene, but true to his kind, he refused to shed any light on where she’d gone.
‘‘Can you at least tell us if she was being forced to go somewhere?’’ I asked Jarilith, exasperated with his refusal to answer our questions.
‘‘It is illegal to portal anyone while they are under duress,’’ he said with a pointed look. ‘‘I could lose my license if I were to do so.’’
‘‘You’re going to lose a lot more than that if you don’t tell me where my twin went,’’ I said in a low, mean voice.
‘‘Mayling, please. I must insist that you allow me to be the bad cop,’’ Gabriel said as I slid the dagger at my ankle out of its sheath.
‘‘I have never subscribed to the sexist belief that women have to be good cop,’’ I said, twirling the dagger around one finger.
Jarilith’s eyes were riveted to it. He didn’t look unduly worried about me being armed, but his condescending expression had slipped just a little.
‘‘Nonetheless, you are far more suited to the good cop role,’’ Gabriel insisted.
‘‘I’m going to have to go against popular opinion and side with Mei Ling on this,’’ Savian said, watching us with a delighted twinkle in his eye. ‘‘She looks like she knows how to use that blade. What is that, a stiletto?’’
‘‘Sicilian castrating knife,’’ I said with a smile at the portal man.
‘‘She wins,’’ Savian told Gabriel.
‘‘Er . . .’’ Jarilith said, his expression starting to slide into worry.
‘‘I am a wyvern! I can do far more to this man than merely remove his genitalia,’’ Gabriel answered in an outraged tone, a little tendril of smoke emerging from between his lips as he spoke.
‘‘Eh . . .’’ Jarilith said, taking a step backward.
‘‘Hmm. He’s a weaver,’’ Savian said thoughtfully as he examined the portalist. ‘‘Those are immortal, aren’t they? So he could survive a castration, but the question is would a dragon barbeque be enough to finish him off?’’
‘‘Absolutely,’’ Gabriel said. He smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile.
‘‘Threatening a weaver is strictly prohibited by law,’’ Jarilith said indignantly, but the fight had gone out of him. His gaze was flickering back and forth from Gabriel to Savian to the dagger I held casually. ‘‘I could have the watch on you for what you’re saying!’’
‘‘Oh, please,’’ I said with a dramatic roll of my eyes.
‘‘Just about every thief taker in this hemisphere is after me. I’ve already been sentenced to banishment to the Akasha. You think one little murder is going to make that any worse? Not likely.’’
Jarilith’s eyes widened.
‘‘It’s true,’’ Savian said. ‘‘The price on her head has already gone over six figures.’’
The color washed out of the portalist’s face. ‘‘Erm . . .’’
‘‘Mate,’’ Gabriel said sternly. ‘‘I must insist that you refrain from slicing and dicing this man.’’
Jarilith nodded quickly. ‘‘Listen to the dragon.’’
‘‘It is my place to destroy those who stand in your way,’’ Gabriel continued, the pupils in his eyes narrowing as he turned to the now hastily backing away Jarilith.
‘‘Let’s not lose our heads, here,’’ the latter said in a rush.
‘‘I don’t think it’s your head the lady has in mind,’’ Savian said as he looked pointedly at the portalist’s crotch.
Jarilith’s hands hovered protectively over his fly. ‘‘Such an atrocity would constitute torture. You wouldn’t do that to an innocent man, would you?’’
‘‘What makes you think I’d stop at the castration?