by Karen Chance
“Weak.”
He nodded. There was no sign of humor on that big, handsome face, because there was no bigger insult in the vampire world, where everything was based on power. Everything.
Life revolved around the power you possessed, to protect your family, your wealth, and your position; the power of your alliances, which allowed you to collectively influence a larger segment of vamp society than you could have done alone; and the power of the senate, the pinnacle of vamp hierarchy, under which you and your whole society functioned.
And you respected that hierarchy, even when you didn’t like it. Even when you chafed under the restrictions it put on you and your business and your personal desires. Even when you hated the senate itself, you stayed firmly in line.
Because you feared them more.
Because they had power almost beyond your comprehension. Because they made anyone who forgot that very, very sorry or very, very dead. Because ruling with an iron fist wasn’t the exception; it was the rule, and you knew the rule and feared the rule and kept the rule, their rule, their law, because anything else was unthinkable.
At least it had been, until today.
I didn’t know exactly what the senate would do now; I’d never seen them challenged like this. No one had. But I knew what a master vampire would do with his back against the wall, his power and authority in question, and his enemies gunning for him and everything he held dear.
And the senate had many, many more resources than any single vamp. So whatever form it took, their response would be big, it would be swift, and it would be vicious. I stared at the darkened Dante’s sign, what little I could see of it, and a shudder went through me.
Marco hugged my shoulders again. “Come on, there’s been enough of that for one day. You need to eat—”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Well, I am,” he lied, “and I’m going to order the biggest steak I can find. If you’re nice, I might give you a bite.”
I smiled slightly.
“And in the meantime, I thought you might like to see someone.”
“Someone?”
Marco looked at me mockingly. “No, you don’t need to eat at all.”
“What?” I blinked at him. And then I remembered. “Rhea!”
He grinned at me, the cigar clamped firmly between big white teeth.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I’d like to see her.”
“Thought so.”
He pulled me out the door.
The hallway outside felt odd, too, although this time, I knew exactly why. “Where are all the cots?”
It should have been full of them, or else they should have been scattered in my bedroom, tripping me up on the way to the balcony. I had a couple dozen initiates who all needed a place to sleep, which was why this place had been lousy with cots lately—in the bedrooms, living room, and lounge. Or, when the girls were up, stacked in the corners of the hallway so we had room to walk.
But now there was nothing.
“We made other arrangements,” Marco said, lips twitching.
“What other arrangements?”
“You know, that can probably wait.”
“Marco.” I grabbed a forearm the size of my leg. Or maybe a little bigger, ’cause skinny legs have always been a bane of my existence. “Where is my court?”
“They’re fine,” he told me, reassuringly. “And they’re close,” he added, when I still looked alarmed, because my court managed to get in almost as much trouble as I did.
Then he shushed me, having just cracked open the door to the guest bedroom down the hall.
It was dark, too, but the drapes were open on a wall of windows, showing glimmers of the golden city beyond. It was also empty, except for a lump under the bedspread and a vamp in a chair. The vamp was reading a book, because to his eyes the room was perfectly well lit. But he looked up when we peered inside.
I couldn’t tell what the book was, but the vamp was Rico, dark good looks showing to advantage in jeans and a tight white tee, and raising a finger to his lips before we said anything.
“How is she?” I whispered, to either of them, because they could both hear me just fine.
“Better,” Marco said, after a pause, probably to ask Rico mentally. “Doc was here earlier, said she’s gonna be out of it for a few days, and easily winded for a week after that, while her body replaces the blood she lost. That bastard of a mage did a number on her.”
“He didn’t,” I said, my eyes on Rhea.
“What?”
“The mage. He wanted—that is, he was trying to trade her for Lizzie—”
“We know. We got that much from those reporters before they ran off, to file who knows what kind of stories. And the rest from the witches—”
“Witches?” I looked up. “What witches?”
“That’s how they got her,” Rico said softly, putting his book down and coming over.
“That is not how they got her,” Marco said, quietly vicious. “That’s how they tried. They got her because of the damn Circle—”
“You can’t trust a mage,” Rico agreed.
“Would someone please tell me what you’re talking about?” I whispered.
Rico glanced at me. “We were out of it this morning, until the master woke us up and sent us the power to go after you. But, apparently, there were some of the Circle’s men here last night—”
“Jonas brought them.”
“Of course he did,” Marco said, in a savage undertone. “He’s been trying to get you, and your court, under Circle control ever since he got back into power. Figures that the first time we’re vulnerable—”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t like that. He came to see me alone, and only called them in later, after he found everybody unconscious. Except for Rhea and Tami, who were freaking out—”
“She’s good at that,” Rico said, rubbing his jaw.
“Rhea?”
“Tami. I thought she was supposed to be your housekeeper, but I’m thinking you should recruit her as a bodyguard instead. She has a mean right cross.”
“She’s not my housekeeper. She’s my . . . organizer.” ’Cause God knew I could use one. “And why did she slug you?”
“My fault.” The dark eyes smiled. “When the master woke us up, it was a little . . . abrupt. I think I startled her.”
“He jumped up swinging, and she swung back, knocking him on his ass,” Marco translated, making me bite my lip. Because Rico was the most obviously badass of my bodyguards, the leather-wearing, tat-sporting, gun-carrying one, when most of the others wore Armani like their master and debated things like plain or tassel-front loafers.
I doubted Rico had a pair of loafers, or if he did, I’d never seen them.
I also doubted that he’d ever been decked by a slim, pretty woman before. But then, Tami was pretty badass herself. And she didn’t need leather to prove it.
She had a belt in jujitsu, the same color as her weave, that did that for her.
“I’m sure she’s sorry,” I told Rico, who was openly grinning now.
“She promised me some cookies,” he agreed.
“I’ve had her cookies. I’d take a belt for them any day,” Marco said, but he was still looking at me. Because he had the patience of Job, and the stubbornness, too, and I doubted he was going to let this go. He took his job as chief bodyguard seriously, and was not a fan of the Circle.
At all.
“Jonas said he called for backup so my court wouldn’t be without protection while he figured out what was going on,” I explained.
“And you believe that?” An eyebrow the size of a caterpillar went north.
I clasped my arms around me again, and told myself it was because I was chilly. The vamps had adjusted the temperature to compensate for all the extra body heat we’d had lately, and
without it, it was verging on cold in here. “I don’t disbelieve him. He said he wants to work with us—”
“He wants to work with you. I think he could do without us just fine.”
I sighed. “Look, I know his attitude could use an overhaul—”
“It’s not just his attitude,” Rico said. “He took the girl, didn’t he?”
I frowned. “What girl?”
“The one who drugged you yesterday.”
“What?”
“He took Lizzie,” Marco confirmed.
“What?”
He nodded. “Turns out, you couldn’t have traded her if you’d wanted to. The Circle’s guys took her before we were awake to stop them—”
“Took her where?”
“Nobody knows,” Rico said. “Jonas called a few hours ago, to check on Rhea—who is his daughter, I understand?”
I nodded, frowning.
“But it was a short call and the only information we gained is that he’s back in Britain. Where the girl is . . .” Rico shook his head.
“She’s probably with him,” Marco said. “You know damn well that’s why he left his men here last night. And why they didn’t object to Rhea going out this morning. They probably saw it as a golden opportunity to make off with Lizzie before Cassie got back.”
I didn’t say anything to that. How could I? It was probably the truth.
I’d helped to put Jonas back in power, foolishly thinking we’d be allies. So far, his definition of that term seemed a little different from mine. And now he had Lizzie, and I didn’t know where, but I needed to.
Because I wasn’t the only one looking for her.
“Why did Rhea go out?” I asked, trying to get this straight in a head that was still half-asleep. “And what witches?”
“They were with us in Augustine’s,” Rico said. “Don’t you remember?”
“Sort of.” I vaguely recalled some women pouring into the ruined shop along with the vamps.
“You were pretty out of it, so no wonder,” Marco said. “But if they hadn’t shown up, we wouldn’t have had a way past the wards on that safe, since the guys supposedly manning the front desk had already fled. . . .” His jaw tightened. “It could have been bad.”
“But what were they doing here?”
“They were worried about Rhea,” Rico said.
“That’s how the dark mage fuckwads got her,” Marco added. “She gets a call—while we’re still out of it, mind—and the damn Circle just lets her leave! They didn’t even volunteer to go with her. They sent an untrained nineteen-year-old acolyte off on her own—”
“To go where?” I asked. “Why would she go anywhere?”
“Oh, that’s the best part,” Marco said. “That’s the part I’m going to bring up the next time Jonas, or any of those Circle bastards, says a goddamn thing about us guarding the Pythia—”
“She received a phone call from someone claiming to be with one of the covens,” Rico explained, glancing at his friend. “Saying they were upset that there weren’t any coven girls in your court other than her, and they felt slighted.”
I frowned. “But that’s their choice. The covens don’t usually send—”
“They didn’t send ’em this time!” Marco said, loudly enough that Rhea stirred uneasily.
“Careful,” Rico said, glancing back at her.
“Sorry.” Marco looked at him sardonically. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”
“Just as long as you don’t step on hers.”
Marco’s smile grew. “Wouldn’t dream of touching your little charge—”
“She isn’t my charge, but I will defend her,” Rico said, watching to see that Rhea settled back down again. And then he glanced at me. “As I would any of your court.”
“That’s . . . good,” I said, looking between the two of them, wondering what I’d missed. And then deciding I had enough to worry about already. “So one of the covens called Rhea?”
“No, one of the covens did not,” Marco said flatly. “Some woman working with the Black Circle did, and the damn Silver let Rhea walk right out of here, on her own, to meet with them and take charge of the handful of little girls they were supposedly sending.”
“And they grabbed her,” I said, my jaw tightening.
“And they grabbed her,” Marco agreed. “But luckily, she’d realized that she was going to be a little late—a couple of the kids have a cold, and she wanted to stop and get some medicine—and she called a friend of hers to tell her that.”
“A friend?”
“In the same coven,” Rico explained. “The one that had supposedly called her.”
“The original call went through the hotel switchboard,” Marco added. “So she didn’t have a number to use to call ’em back. But she thinks, no problem, I’ll just call my friend and she can let ’em know.”
“But her friend didn’t know anything about it,” I guessed.
“Her friend wasn’t even awake,” Rico said. “But when she did get up a short time later, and received the message, she realized that Rhea might be in trouble.”
Marco nodded. “She hadn’t heard anything about any coven girls joining the court, and she made a few calls. Found out that nobody else knew anything about it, either. So she called Rhea back, but nobody answered, so she tried to call us, but the switchboard wouldn’t let her through—”
“Then how did the Black Circle get through?”
The two vamps exchanged a look.
“How did they get through?” I asked again, a little more forcefully.
“We had the switchboard put a pass code on all your calls,” Marco told me.
“And?”
“And only a couple people had it,” Rico said softly. “They found one of them in his car this afternoon.”
“In his . . .” I trailed off, but Rico didn’t elaborate.
“Don’t soft-pedal it,” Marco said. “She’s not one of the kids.”
“I know that.”
“Do you? Then tell her what happened.” He looked at me. “They found him in his trunk. He’d been tortured, presumably until he gave them the code, and then locked in his car and left to bake to death in the heat.”
“That was unnecessary,” Rico said, frowning.
“No, it wasn’t. This is war; Cassie needs to know the truth.”
“And when she wakes up, will you tell her the truth?” Rico asked, glancing at Rhea.
“She already knows,” I said, looking at the small lump in the bed. And then up to meet Rico’s dark eyes. “That mage didn’t slit Rhea’s throat. She did it herself, so he would have nothing left to trade. She knows, Rico.” I turned and went back to my room.
Chapter Thirteen
I ended up in the bathroom because I needed to be alone and it was the one place the vamps wouldn’t follow me. I loved them like family—hell, they were my family, or as much of one as I’d ever had—but they weren’t human. Not anymore. And sometimes they showed that in odd ways, like failing to understand the need for solitude.
Vamps didn’t have solitude. From the moment they were Changed, they never had it again. I often wondered why they didn’t go insane—more of them, that is. The constant buzzing in their heads, all those voices, all those thoughts, all the time—
I shuddered.
I could hardly stand being in my own head these days, which was getting cluttered with voices, too. Voices of all the people I hadn’t been able to help, because I hadn’t acted fast enough, hadn’t planned well enough, wasn’t strong enough. It was getting to be a long list. So many voices . . .
Except for the one I really needed to hear.
I sat against the side of the tub, pulled my legs up, and concentrated.
It didn’t help that I didn’t know how to do this. That, until a few days ago, I hadn’t
even known that I could do this. I’d thought of the Pythian power as, well, power, some bit of Apollo’s strength that he’d given to the priestesses he’d claimed as his own.
And that was where it had started. But during all those thousands of years out of touch with its former master, it had become something more: an independent entity that guarded the timeline with the help of the Pythias it chose. Like it had chosen me, but was probably regretting it, because I hadn’t understood that we were supposed to be a team.
Until recently, when Rhea had given me a little Pythia 101, and I’d started listening for what my power was trying to say.
“Can I go back?” I whispered, into the silence. “Can I . . . fix this?”
Because I could. I hadn’t had the strength for a time shift this morning, but now . . . I could go back, I could call the Circle, I could have them waiting when the dark mages showed up. I could talk to Rhea, tell her to ignore that phone call. I could visit the desk clerk, warn him that his job was about to get him killed.
And I could do it all in five minutes. Hell, less than that, if I was lucky. And then the deaths, the pain, the suffering—all of it would be gone, erased like it had never happened.
Because for them, it never would have.
But my power didn’t seem to like that idea. Every time I thought about hitting rewind, all I got was a rising tide of black panic. My power wasn’t human and didn’t speak to me in English, or at all as far as I could tell. But I didn’t think that was a yes.
“If we’re partners, talk to me,” I whispered. “Why can’t I do this?”
Nothing.
It had been the same at the consul’s last night, but at least then I’d thought I understood. The supernatural community was fractured, with the Circle, the senate, the demons, the covens—basically, every single group I knew of—off doing their own thing. Some of them had alliances, yes, but they were more on paper than anything else. Old hatreds ran deep, and old distrusts deeper. No one wanted to work together, not even now.
Until last night, when the bad guys gate-crashed a party at the senate leader’s house, attended by the top dogs of most of the different groups. All of whom suddenly found themselves fighting side by side. I’d thought maybe that was what the power was trying to tell me: that they’d needed the lesson. It might have been costly, but in the end it might be far costlier if they never learned to work together.
