It was at that point he realized he was ogling her hips in an attempt to qualify that guess, and with an effort, snapped his gaze up to her face.

She was glaring at him. “Had a nice gander, did you? Need a little longer? Maybe you’d rather take pictures so you can look at them later?”

“Er… no. That’s not necessary.” He thought for a moment. “Unless you really wouldn’t mind, that is. Just a few informal shots would suffice.”

She grabbed the bars, yelped, and released them, but stood as close as she could, her nostrils flaring in a manner that he found wholly enticing.

Ysolde never flared her nostrils in just such a way. He froze at that thought, immediately filled with an odd sort of guilt. How could he even compare this woman, this Charmer of curses, with his beloved Ysolde?

“Look, I don’t know who you are—”

“I told you: I am Constantine Norka. It used to be Constantine of Norka, but I am now very much with the times. I have a mobile phone. I listen to podcasts. I twat.”

The woman’s eyes rounded in utter surprise. “You… what?”

“I write twats. Not often, and only Ysolde and her oldest son follow me, but I frequently use my mobile phone to post pictures. Ysolde always has nice things to say about them. What is your name? I keep thinking of you as ‘unnamed woman’ and it’s getting annoying.”

She stared at him a moment longer, then blinked, taking a deep breath before answering, “My name is Bee Dakar. And the word you were looking for, but horribly mangled, is twit. You post tweets on Twitter, not that other word, which in case you didn’t know, is sexually objectifying and demeaning. So don’t use it again.”

“Is it? No, you are incorrect. I’m sure it’s Twatter.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. I have more than five hundred followers on Twitter.”

He pursed his lips a moment, then pulled out his mobile phone and touched a button. He held it up to the bars.

The woman named Bee looked. “I’ll be damned. Twatter.”

“I told you.”

“It’s clearly a rip-off of the original site. It’s probably run by some horrible virus guys who are infecting your computer every time you use it. Now, will you get me out of here, please?” She carefully grabbed a section of the bars that wasn’t spiked, and rattled it. “I’m not having a ball here, so I’d like to get the talisman and beat it before the next idiot guard runs into me.”

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Constantine said with regret. He was a bit startled to find that he genuinely felt regret at the idea of leaving Bee trapped in Abaddon, but he prided himself on being a thoughtful man, one considerate of the feelings of others, especially those who were weaker or more vulnerable. He informed Bee of this fact.

“What do you mean, you’re only thinking of what’s best for me?” She rattled the bars again, her eyes all but spitting little slivers of blue at him. “Okay, one, I didn’t ask you to protect me. Two, how is leaving me to rot in Abaddon going to benefit me? And while we’re on that subject, what’s this crap about me being weak and vulnerable? I’ll have you know that I’m a damned good Charmer, so good that people who know me don’t even try to slap a curse on someone because they know I’ll simply un-work it.”

“You are not immortal,” Constantine pointed out.

She all but bristled at him. “So?”

“I am. If I am caught by the guards who saw you the first time, I can simply slip into the spirit world and they will not be able to touch me. But if you are with me under the same circumstances, then you would be left alone to face their wrath.”

“We’re not going to be caught—” she started to say, but Constantine interrupted.

“I’m already dead. They can’t kill me again. They can’t even destroy my spirit—the most they can do is banish me to the Akasha and demon lords do not have that ability without some outside assistance. But you…” He shook his head. “I would not risk your life in such a manner. You are safer here, where you are not incurring the wrath of demons or their lord.”

“Are you freakin’ nuts? How on earth can you tell me that I’m safe when I’m trapped in a cell in freakin’ hell!”

“Abaddon is not hell,” he felt obliged to point out. “It is what mortals frequently think of as hell, but the two things are not the same—”

“Argh!” she screamed, shaking the bars more vigorously.

Constantine nervously glanced up and down the hallway. Much though he had enjoyed the interlude with the woman named Bee, he was using up far too much of his precious energy by standing there in a corporeal state. Not to mention risking discovery by the very same guards who found Bee.

“I can’t believe you’re being so pigheaded about this! Wait, you’re a dragon, I guess I can believe it.”

“Madam,” Constantine said formally, giving her a look down his nose. “I understand you are in a less than desirable situation, but there is no need to fling about insults.”

“If you don’t let me out of here, so help me goddess, I’ll make sure you are the saddest dragon who ever lived,” she threatened, breathing heavily.

“Once I have the talisman safely outside, then I will inform Kostya of your whereabouts. I’m sure he will send an armed group to free you, one that will be able to protect you against any retribution for your escape.”

“Who knows how long that will be!” Bee wailed. “I can’t wait around for you to round up a posse to rescue me! I don’t need a posse—I just need you to get this door open.”

“I’m sorry. It just wouldn’t be prudent.”

“Prudence be damned! If you’re going to send dragons to break me out later, you might as well do the job now and save everyone trouble.”

“I cannot protect you should we be caught,” he repeated. He felt sorry for her, and wished the situation were otherwise, but he was a man who protected those who were weaker, and he wasn’t about to put Bee in danger if he could help it. “A group of dragons who are well armed and able to keep you safe is a different matter. Cease trying to grab me, woman. I’m not going to allow you to drag me up against those spikes.”