Katie MacAlister: Playing with Fire

‘‘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.’’

He took another deep drag on his cigarette. ‘‘It is, my darling, it is. Especially that which Kostich possessed-it was the purest form, the arcanum of the soul. Only a master alchemist can make it, and it takes many years to cure it to the clarity of the liquid I assume you now possess.’’

There was both a question and a demand in his lightly spoken comment. Silently, I removed the bottle from my inner pocket and rose to give it to him. He took the bottle but, before I could withdraw, grabbed my hand, pulling me onto his lap.

‘‘Stop struggling; your virtue is safe from me. For the moment,’’ he added with a leer before turning over my hand so he could examine my palm.

I shivered at the chill that seemed to seep from his flesh to mine.

‘‘You are hiding something from me,’’ he said in a low, soft voice that would have been beautiful but for the very real undertone of threat.

‘‘I couldn’t do that,’’ I answered, trying not to squirm nervously on him. ‘‘I’m bound to you. I must follow your orders.’’

His forefinger traced a curlicue over my left breast. ‘‘I can hear your heart racing, sweet May. What is it you fear I will learn?’’

‘‘I don’t like being held by you,’’ I said, praying the truth of that statement would satisfy him.

‘‘Hmm.’’ His finger brushed along my lips. I turned my head away and tried to escape his hold. To my surprise, he didn’t fight to hold me.

‘‘This deception I sense in you is new and fascinating, but I’m afraid I cannot allow it to continue,’’ he said calmly as I shakily gathered up my purse.

‘‘If I had the power to disobey you, do you think I’d be here now?’’

A slight smile played about his lips, his eyes half-closed. ‘‘You are hiding something from me, May Northcott.’’

I backed up a step at the use of my full name, the hairs on my arms rising as my brain screamed a warning. Unable to speak another denial, I simply shook my head.

He got to his feet with languid grace, strolling toward me with an expression that might seem pleasant, but which scared the crap out of me. He stroked the curve of my cheek with one finger. ‘‘Such a lovely face. You offer such temptation, and yet I believe you truly do not understand what you possess. Ah well, that time will come, and I look forward to introducing you to pleasures you can’t even begin to imagine.’’

‘‘If that’s all, I’d better be going,’’ I stammered, backing up toward the door.

‘‘Do you know what I will do if you attempt to keep something from me?’’ he asked just as I got my hand on the doorknob and was turning it.

I paused, my stomach tightening. ‘‘Kill me?’’

‘‘Tsk. The image you have of me,’’ he said, pretending disappointment even as his eyes danced with amusement. ‘‘Sweet May, I am a lover, not a fighter, as the mortals so quaintly put it. I would not kill you, although I admit that the thought of lessoning you brings me’’-he closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply-‘‘much pleasure.’’

I had a momentary image of what his idea of lessoning was. It shook me to my core. No doubt my horror manifested itself in my expression.

Magoth laughed. ‘‘Alas, that enjoyment must await another time. But do, I beg of you, keep it in mind as I ask you this question-have you seen something at Dr. Kostich’s that I will want?’’

I almost sagged with relief at his question. I had been on the verge of admitting everything, figuring I might avoid the heinous fate he had planned if I could bring him the quintessence, but his own choice of words saved me. I lifted my chin, looked him dead in the eye, and said with absolute honesty, ‘‘No, I have not seen something that you would want.’’

He ground out his cigarette on the carpet. ‘‘I will rephrase my question-what did you find out about the archimage Kostich?’’

‘‘Not much,’’ I answered, my fingers tightening around the doorknob as I sorted through my memories of the previous night for anything of interest. ‘‘He seems to favor Greek and Roman antiquities, has two original Renoirs and one fake hanging in a reception room, and possesses a mistaken belief that arcane magic will protect his most valuable objects.’’

Magoth lit another cigarette, watching the flame on the lighter for a moment before snapping it closed. ‘‘Where was the vial?’’

‘‘In a case in his study.’’

‘‘What else was in the case?’’

‘‘The only things I saw were a couple of old vases, some gold jewelry that looked to be Etruscan in origin, and a fertility figure.’’

He was silent for a moment, his eyes hooded, but I knew he was examining me for signs I was lying. My stomach revolted for a moment at the thought of what he’d do if he found out I was picking my words carefully to avoid lying.

‘‘Very well,’’ he said at last. ‘‘If you are sure I cannot tempt you to stay and enjoy the gratification that only I can bring you, you may leave.’’

I stifled the urge to whoop and dance for joy, bowing my head in a show of submission.

‘‘I will have need of you again in a few days, once I transmute this Liquor Hepatis to Balsam of the Soul. Come naked next time, hmm?’’

I shot him a startled look.

He grinned. ‘‘It was worth a try. Until we meet again, my delectable one.’’