‘‘But it is now,’’ Gabriel pointed out in his smooth, silky voice. ‘‘And since you now possess it, perhaps you would reconsider your actions with regard to Mei Ling?’’

‘‘I know I searched the case . . . hmm? Oh. No,’’ Dr. Kostich said slowly as he replaced the quintessence, redrawing the binding element on the ground. I had moved a couple of steps away, keeping Gabriel between me and the two men, praying that the former and the dim light would continue to keep me hidden. ‘‘She must be caught. She has robbed too many people in the L’au-delà."

Gabriel clearly wasn’t happy with that, but I realized there was little he could say without attracting too much attention from both men.

‘‘And now I must insist that you be on your way,’’ the mage said just as I was trying to get a peek at the two men. I ducked down behind Gabriel’s broad shoulders, holding my breath. ‘‘I have a great many things to do before the sun rises.’’

Gabriel smiled and gestured toward the door. ‘‘After you.’’

Dr. Kostich hesitated, but moved toward the door.

The thief taker evidently still stood in front of the cabinet, but he, too, left after a moment’s pregnant silence. Gabriel followed. As they went through the door, he paused long enough to turn off the light, shooting me an unreadable look as he did so. ‘‘I am sure you will be able to rest knowing that your precious things are safe from any further theft.’’

I made a face at such an obvious warning, waiting until he turned off the light and closed the door before hurrying toward the window.

There was no denying that Gabriel had saved my butt from a very unpleasant situation. But everyone knew that dragons never did anything without expecting to be compensated. Just what was Gabriel going to demand as payment?

That thought worried me all the way back to my hotel.

Cyrene was nearly asleep when I tapped on her door.

‘‘You all right?’’ I asked when she opened it.

‘‘Yes.’’ Her shoulders slumped as she crawled back into bed, leaving me standing awkwardly.

Everything about her twanged at my conscience, from her dejected, downturned mouth to the way she wouldn’t meet my eye.

‘‘How does your neck feel?’’ I asked.

She gave a little twitch of her shoulder as she pulled the blankets up. ‘‘Fine. It doesn’t hurt.’’

‘‘You don’t look happy,’’ I said, miserable.

‘‘I’m not.’’ Her eyes lifted to meet mine for a moment, hurt mingling with accusation in them. ‘‘You lied to me.’’