‘‘We haven’t met. I’d have remembered if we had,’’ the man said with absolute conviction, but despite that, there was an oddly unplaceable note in his voice that had a little warning bell going off in my head. ‘‘Here; wrap yourself in this. I don’t mind being a Good Samaritan, but this is my employer’s car, and I don’t think he’d appreciate waterlogged leather seats.’’

Numbly, I accepted the blanket he took out of the trunk of a car and thrust into my arms. I knew I should just walk away, but the events of the evening had left me feeling more than a little bit out of it. I touched my head, wincing when I found a huge lump on the side. I must have hit my head on the ground when I’d gone out the window, knocking myself out for a few seconds. ‘‘Well . . . if you’re sure. I don’t want to be any trouble.’’

‘‘No trouble at all; it’s what I’m here for!’’ He held open the passenger-side door, carefully tucking the blanket around me (no doubt more to protect the upholstery of the car than to warm me), snapping me in with the seat belt before going around to the driver’s side.

‘‘I’m May,’’ I said as he started up the car.

‘‘Savian.’’ He shot me a quick look, which changed into a smile. ‘‘You look like hell, May. You need something hot to drink.’’

‘‘I’ll be fine, thanks. I’m staying in Marylebone, on Wimpole Street. It shouldn’t be too long a drive from here.’’

‘‘That’s a nice area,’’ he said agreeably.

I tried to think again why he seemed so familiar, but gave it up as being a lost cause with my wits so apparently scrambled from the fall. I closed my eyes for a moment, reliving the last hour of the evening, and wondering what it was I’d found in Kostya’s lair. I didn’t feel the least pang of guilt at stealing from him, not when he so basely attacked Gabriel. I had no doubt the phylactery was locked in the chest with the wards, which made Kostya’s attempt to shift blame to Gabriel all the more reprehensible.

A police siren passing by us jerked me out of the doze I’d fallen into. I sat up, looking around confusedly at the bright lights of the area in which we were driving. ‘‘Savian? This . . . er . . . this appears to be the airport.’’

‘‘That’s right,’’ he said, flashing a smile as he whipped us into an airport parking lot.

Suspicion took its own sweet time dawning, but at last the warning bells went off in my head.