“You worry too much about what insignificant insects think,” he snapped. “If you cannot dodge the mortal police, you don’t deserve to be in their world. In answer to your question, there was a Wiccan on the staff of the préfecture. She recognized me and saw to it that I was taken to this room, which, you have probably failed to notice, is bound in silver.”

I looked around the room, frowning.

“I noticed,” Gabriel said. “I can smell it.”

“The famous dragon ability to smell precious metals . . . well, wyvern, in answer to your mate’s question, that is why I have not simply destroyed these mortals as they deserve.”

“Silver is poisonous to demons and demon lords,” I said slowly, pulling a morsel of demon lore from the depths of my knowledge. “It’s an important element in ritual acts of destruction, and can be used to confine them to locations if the boundaries are seeded with pure silver.”

“Which, I can assure you, is accurate in this case.” Magoth paced the edges of the room, glaring at the walls. “This room was clearly created by someone with a grudge against demon lords.”

“More likely demons, since there are few princes who are able to walk in the mortal world,” I pointed out.

“The important point in this lamentably long conversation,” he said with a wicked look at me, “is that I be released. Immediately. If not sooner.”

Gabriel and I exchanged a glance. The door behind us started to open, voices entering that questioned, in French, the status of the camera.

I threw myself at the door, slamming it shut. “We’re not going to be able to hold it for long,” I told Gabriel.

He braced himself against it as another attempt was made to open the door, pulling out his cell phone with one hand. He punched in one number and barked an order into the phone in a singsong language that I assume had Aboriginal roots.

“That should give us a minute or two,” he said, grunting as he held the door firm despite some serious attempts on it. “Tipene will start a couple of fires in the station that will hopefully distract some of the people. Go ahead, May.”

“Right, let’s get straight to the negotiations,” I said, my voice rocky as someone started pounding something large against the door. “We will agree to get you out of here if you help us with a situation in Abaddon.”

“You need my help?” Magoth’s frown cleared as he perched himself on the corner of the table, a slow smile lighting his face. “How very interesting. You desire a favor from me. This is highly unusual, and yet, oddly appealing. And what payment do you offer?”

“No favors, just a simple exchange of help,” I said, digging in my heels and bracing as the door was continuously pounded.