Unbidden, my gaze went to Gabriel. He took a long pull on his drink, then strolled across the room, setting his glass down on the table next to me. His face was shuttered and absolutely expressionless as he looked down on me.

‘‘I take it that this Kostya is making your life hell?’’ I asked him, dread building within me. I began to see what it was he wanted me for.

‘‘That would be an understatement,’’ he said, turning to look out into the darkness.

I set down my own glass carefully lest I end up snapping the thin stem. ‘‘I think I should tell you all that I am not a hit man. I will not kill anyone, let alone a dragon.’’

‘‘Oh, we don’t want you to kill Kostya! He’s Drake’s brother, no matter how annoying he may be,’’ Aisling said quickly. ‘‘It’s the phylactery. We want you to steal it back from him.’’

‘‘What phylactery?’’ I asked, my heart sinking. Why was it that people saw me only for my talent, and never for who I truly was?

‘‘Kostya took a phylactery from me. He intends on using it against the silver dragons in an attempt to annex them,’’ Drake said.

‘‘I see,’’ I said again.

‘‘You’re Mei Ling, the cat burglar everyone is talking about,’’ Aisling said, her face worried. ‘‘You can get the phylactery back for us, can’t you?’’

I lifted my hand in a vague gesture, unsure of what I wanted to say. With the intention of stalling for a few seconds, I snatched up my glass instead, but the moment the wine hit my tongue, I realized I’d taken Gabriel’s glass instead. It was as if I was drinking liquid hellfire.

‘‘Agathos daimon!’’ I yelped, dropping the glass and jumping to my feet as flames burst out around my feet.

‘‘Not me,’’ Aisling said when Drake looked at her. ‘‘That fire isn’t mine.’’

Gabriel spun around, his eyes glowing with a sudden light as he watched me stamp out the flames that licked my toes.

‘‘Holy cow,’’ Aisling said, watching me with openmouthed amazement. ‘‘Did she just drink what I think she did?’’

Gabriel picked the glass up off the floor, running his finger around the now-empty glass, tasting the remnants with an indescribable look as I put out the last of the flames. ‘‘Yes.’’

‘‘Oh, man, two in one year?’’ Jim asked, an odd expression on its face. ‘‘What’re the odds?’’

‘‘I’m sorry about the rug,’’ I told Aisling, grabbing a couple of napkins to try to soak up the spilled wine. ‘‘I must have grabbed the wrong glass. That’s a heck of a drink. What is it?’’

I could still taste the heady beverage on my lips, a spicy mix that had a hint of cloves and cinnamon, and a heavy red wine that was blended with something indefinable.