Playing With Fire - Katie MacAlister [69]
‘‘And is the vault secure? I mean, really secure?’’
‘‘It is the L’au-delà vault!’’ she answered indignantly. ‘‘It has not been violated in at least a century.’’
Somewhat relieved, I signed my name where she indicated.
‘‘Convicted persons may petition for the return of those items not deemed to be dangerous,’’ she added.
‘‘Convicted?’’ A headache suddenly blossomed to life. I rubbed my forehead, trying to figure out just what was going on. ‘‘I was convicted?’’
‘‘Oh, yes,’’ the secretary said. ‘‘Earlier, when you were brought before the committee. You were charged, tried, and sentenced, and now if you would just sign these forms as well, I can initiate your transfer to the Akasha.’’
‘‘The Akasha?’’ I felt like some sort of deranged parrot repeating things the woman was saying, but I was beyond confused. My blood turned to ice at the thought of the Akasha—it was what mortals sometimes thought of as limbo, a place where demons and others who had been banished were sent. It meant an eternity of nonexistence, a perpetual torment, a punishment so heinous, it was reserved for only the most serious of crimes . . . or people who sufficiently pissed off the heads of the committee.
And this woman wanted me to sign papers that would send me there? ‘‘I don’t think so,’’ I said aloud, snatching up the phone. I didn’t have to think about who to call; I pulled out the small card with Gabriel’s cell phone number, and punched in the appropriate country code and number.
‘‘It would be my utmost delight to speak with you,’’ Gabriel’s smooth voice assured me. ‘‘But unfortunately, I am unable to take your call at this time. Please leave a message.’’
I wanted to cry right there in front of everyone, but as I’ve mentioned, I’m not a weepy sort of person. ‘‘It’s me. Er . . . May. I’m in Paris, and apparently was unconscious when I was charged by the L’au-delà committee to be banished to the Akasha. I’d really appreciate it if you could do something about it before they send me there.’’ I gave the phone number that was printed on the phone and hung up, despair welling up inside me.
‘‘Do I take it you refuse to sign the forms?’’ the secretary asked, her mouth thin with irritation.
‘‘That is absolutely correct. I won’t sign anything until my . . . er . . . wyvern checks it out.’’
She snatched the papers back and marched to her desk, muttering about unreasonable people who had no concept of the amount of work she had to do.
Tej watched me for a moment with sad eyes before escorting me back to my cell, allowing me to make a bathroom stop on the way.
‘‘The windows have been barred,’’ he pointed out as I was about to enter the bathroom, and sure enough, they had been. The air duct was too small to climb through, the ceiling was made of solid plaster, not tiles with access to a ventilation shaft, and there was no exit other than the door that led straight to Tej.
I sighed, made use of the facilities, and prayed to as many gods as I could name that Gabriel checked his voice mail in time to keep me from being sent to the Akasha.
Chapter Fifteen
I have no idea how much time had gone by since Tej had deposited me back in my airless, barren cell of a room. For that matter, I had no concept of how much time had passed while I was in the shadow world— evidently enough to conduct a trial, although why no one bothered to bring me around during that was a question I very much wanted to ask. I suspected the answer would not be complimentary.
Time did pass, enough that Tej brought me a plate of food for which I had no appetite. Since my room had no windows, I couldn’t even tell if it was day or night. I considered slipping back into the shadow world, but I knew that was no solution to my problem.
By my best guess, about four hours later, the door to my room was suddenly opened. I’d curled up on my side, figuring I might as well rest in case the opportunity to escape presented itself, and I looked up with surprise at the person who was shoved into the room.
‘‘—know who I am? I’m a naiad, you idiot! A member of the Sisterhood of Hydriades! You