The surly man tightened his hold on my wrist until I howled my protest, beating on his arm to let go of me. ‘‘Stop your bitching or I’ll stop it for you! Here.’’ He thrust an identification card at a customs official who hurriedly backed out of the way.

‘‘Help!’’ I yelled, trying to simultaneously claw the man’s grip off my wrist and twist myself free. ‘‘I’m being kidnapped! Someone help me! He—’’

The last thing I remember before a white pain exploded in my head was the man turning toward me, his fist raised. After that, blissful darkness claimed me, welcoming me with a familiar comfort. I wandered the pathways of the shadow world for a bit, that place between realities that few can reach, and fewer can leave once they get there. It was a dreamworld, a place of sanctuary for those for whom reality had become too much, and I was tempted for a few moments to just remain there, safe from the pain and strife that made up my world. But the image of Gabriel’s bright eyes rose in my mind, the memory of his burning kisses stirring the slumbering embers of my desire.

A cold shock of water dragged me out of the shadow world and back into my body. I sputtered and choked, rolling off my back and into a sitting position as I wiped water from my face. ‘‘Agathos daimon!’’

‘‘You will please to come to the chamber,’’ a voice said with a complete lack of emotion. I shook the water from my eyes well enough to see the slight young man speaking.

‘‘Who are you? And where am I?’’

‘‘I am Tej, apprentice to Monish Lakshmanan. This is Paris.’’

‘‘Paris,’’ I groaned, getting painfully to my feet. The laser burns had long since healed, but my wrist was still sore and discolored. The scene with the thief taker and the dark-haired brutish man rushed back. ‘‘What happened to the thief taker?’’

‘‘Porter? He’s claiming his reward. You must please to come this way.’’

I staggered out of the small room, taking quick glances around me to look for an escape. Our footsteps echoed down a long hallway dotted with occasional chairs and small tables. ‘‘Where exactly in Paris?’’ I asked my escort.

‘‘Suffrage House,’’ he answered.

My spirits dropped. Suffrage House was the mansion of a long-dead suffragette, bought by the L’au-delà, and now used as their headquarters. Although I’d been locked in a small, dark room that was clearly used as a holding cell since it contained no furniture whatsoever, I had to admit that I’d been in much worse places.

‘‘Who’s Monish Lakshmanan?’’ I asked, sliding an appraising glance at Tej. He appeared to be Indian, his soft brown eyes watching me warily as we walked down a long gold and white hallway.

‘‘Monish is an oracle, and a member of the watch.’’