I cleared my throat, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut. A distraction was called for. I sorted through my head for anything to take his mind off a seduction, but came up empty-handed. With nothing to lose, I fell back upon the obvious. ‘‘I assume you had a reason for summoning me?’’

He was silent for a moment, letting me know that he was allowing the change of subject only because it suited him. ‘‘I heard an interesting piece of news this morning.’’

‘‘I assume it must have been something important for you to have summoned me back to Paris. What is the news?’’ I asked cautiously, surreptitiously rubbing my arms against the chill in the room. Despite the Parisian spring sun seeping into the room, the air was cold enough for me to see little puffs when I spoke.

His lips twitched. ‘‘It seems that a certain individual has put a price on your head.’’

‘‘Another one? Lovely.’’ I closed my eyes for a moment, my frequent companions of regret, despair, and hopelessness leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

‘‘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.