Up In Smoke
Page 19

I took a few steps away to an unoccupied corner of the store, relieved to hear the voice of my twin after such a long absence.
‘‘Mayling! I was so happy to get your voice mail! How did Gabriel get you out of Abaddon? I offered to help him by going to Magoth and begging him to release you, but he said that wasn’t necessary, and that he had some plan in the works. Obviously he must have because you’re not there now, but I still think that Gabriel might have at least let me try.’’
‘‘Well, it doesn’t really matter because his plan did work, and I’m here now. How have you been while I’ve been trapped in Abaddon? You haven’t been rescuing anything, have you?’’
‘‘Certainly not!’’ she said with righteous indignation, no doubt hearing the slight tone of censure that had crept into my voice. ‘‘I told that dragon of yours that I wouldn’t get into trouble while you were gone, and I haven’t.’’
‘‘I’m relieved to hear it.’’ Cyrene attracted trouble the way a flame drew moths. ‘‘What have you been doing while you were keeping your nose clean?’’
‘‘Oh, this and that,’’ she said airily, and instantly my mental warning sirens went off. ‘‘You said you’re in Paris?’’
‘‘Yes,’’ I said slowly, eyeing Gabriel across the room. I knew he had kept tabs on Cyrene for me while I was out of commission, so surely he would have told me if she’d managed to get herself into some sort of trouble. ‘‘What exactly is this and that?’’
Silence answered me. It was a silence I was all too familiar with.
‘‘Oh, Cy,’’ I said, slumping into a chair that sat next to the wall. ‘‘What have you done now?’’
‘‘I haven’t done anything! I just got done telling you that! It’s . . . er . . . it’s just that . . . Oh, Mayling, I’m in trouble! But it’s not my fault, I swear!’’ The sentence ended on a wail, just as I knew it would. It was accompanied by a couple of moist sniffles that meant big tears were rolling down her face.
‘‘What is it now? Something with the committee? Did they find out how you helped me escape confinement?’’
‘‘No, it’s not them. Kostya said they’re not smart enough to figure it out. It’s . . . it’s something else.’’
‘‘Kostya?’’ I leaped on the name that she’d tried to slip past me. ‘‘What does the black dragon have to do with your trouble? Is he bothering you, Cy? Because if he is, I’ll just tell Drake—’’
‘‘No!’’ she interrupted, her voice thick with tears. ‘‘Kostya isn’t bothering me—he’s wonderful! He’s so needy! I know you won’t like it, but we’ve been dating, and oh, May, I think this really may be it! I think he’s the one.’’
I wanted to bang my forehead against the nearest wall, but knew that wouldn’t do anyone good. ‘‘You’re not making the least little bit of sense. When I left you, you had just kneed Kostya in the groin, calling him all sorts of names.’’
‘‘Oh, that. That was just a little misunderstanding. I’ve had more than a month to get to know him, really get to know him, and I know now that he’s just horribly mistreated by everyone, your wyvern in particular.’’
I bristled on Gabriel’s behalf, but before I could protest, she continued.
‘‘You remember how I said that I thought Gabriel was confused about which of us was really the wyvern’s mate, and that since we were twins, I was probably his true mate, and he just thought you were?’’
‘‘Um . . .’’ I didn’t want to point out that we had proven beyond all doubt that I was Gabriel’s mate. Cyrene tended to be a bit touchy about that subject. Or at least she had been . . .
‘‘Well, I started thinking about that, and I figured out why I couldn’t handle Gabriel’s fire and you could.’’
‘‘And what did you surmise?’’ I asked cautiously. ‘‘We’re both wyvern’s mates!’’ She giggled. ‘‘Mayling, you’re breathing like a bulldog. Stop hackling up like I know you are; I’m not going to take your wyvern away from you. That’s the beauty of the situation—I have my own! I am clearly meant to be Kostya’s mate just like you’re meant to be Gabriel’s.’’
I closed my eyes for a moment, and when I opened them, Gabriel stood before me, a quizzical look on his face. ‘‘Problems?’’ he asked.
‘‘Just Cyrene being Cyrene,’’ I said, putting my hand over the mouthpiece. ‘‘Can you give me a couple of minutes to try and talk some sense into her?’’
He nodded. ‘‘Maata’s birthday is in two weeks. I’ll tell her she may have carte blanche in the store as her present.’’
I glanced over to where his two guards stood leaning against a wall near the entrance, and nodded. ‘‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’’
‘‘I’ll tell Maata she has an hour, then,’’ he said with wink before wandering off.
Cyrene, who had continued with an lengthy line of reasoning why she was obviously the best person to be Kostya’s mate, drew up short when I interrupted her. ‘‘We can talk about the situation with Kostya later. I assume the trouble you referred to earlier is something to do with him? Have the other dragon septs said anything to you?’’
‘‘Oh.’’ Her voice, which had been its usual light, burbling self, flattened to a whisper. ‘‘No, that’s something else. May, it’s . . . oh, it’s horrible!’’
‘‘What?’’ I asked, my stomach tightening despite long decades of familiarity with the sort of trouble into which she could get herself. ‘‘Stop hemming and hawing, and just tell me. You know it’s always worse if you try to prepare me for it ahead of time.’’
‘‘I know, but this time it’s especially tricky. It’s . . . it’s Neptune.’’
‘‘Who?’’ I asked, startled.
‘‘Neptune. You know, the head of all us water beings. He rules the sisterhood, not that we like to admit it, because, well, you know how some of the sisters are—they don’t like men very much, and Neptune has always been rather condescending toward us naiads, like we’re not valuable to the planet or something. As if! We do more work than any of the other elemental beings put together. Anyway.’’ She took a deep breath, her words having slowed down from their initial tumbling rush. ‘‘Neptune called me before him, and, May, it wasn’t pretty at all.’’