Claimed by Shadow

Chapter 15

I didn't answer, momentarily stunned at the immense wave of relief that swept through me at hearing that voice alive and well. I controlled my features, waiting for the geis to kick in, but nothing happened. There was a warm rush of pleasure, a happy frisson humming along my skin from just being near him, but nothing extreme. I'd forgotten-in this era, the horrid thing was still brand spanking new. It hadn't had time to grow teeth yet. But it would. Big ones.

I caught the box. It looked just like mine. "What is this?" Dark eyes met mine, glittering wickedly. "I offer a trade." Stoker, crazed from pain, suddenly scrambled out of the pit and took off up the center aisle. Pritkin went after him, why I couldn't imagine. Maybe so Mircea could wipe his memory, although that seemed unnecessary. When he'd written a confused version of everything years later, it had sold as fiction.

"Hurry up," I called, and Pritkin waved an arm before disappearing through the doors to the lobby.

Mircea smiled, and it was one of his better efforts, despite the fact that he was covered in blood, most of it his. "Are you not interested in pursuing your quarrel with the young hoyden who was here earlier?”

"What?" I stared at the box for a moment, uncomprehending. Then what he'd said sunk in. No. No way. I'd been trying so hard to find Myra, and now she was being dumped in my lap? Or, to be more precise, waved under my nose? It was bizarre.

"I intended the trap for my brother," Mircea said. "But when I saw that he had been captured already, I decided to employ it for other purposes. The young… woman… made the mistake of running to the balcony to watch the effects of her device. I found her there.”

He put Myra 's box on the boards, and put a hand on Dracula's. "The Senators will be back," I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the small black container that imprisoned my rival. For some reason, my ears were ringing. "They'll just kill him anyway.”

"Kill who?" Mircea was mildly curious. "You cannot mean my brother. Tragically, he died in the blast.”

"They'll smell him.”

"Not in this." Mircea sounded like he knew. And it wasn't as if they'd search him for the box. They might risk war over Dracula himself, but over a suspicion? I didn't think so.

"Why do you cry?" he asked suddenly, his hand on my cheek. His thumb wiped away a tear I couldn't remember shedding. As mild as the contact was, it woke up the geis. I caught my breath, and Mircea's eyes widened.

I pulled away. "Please… don't." Unlike in my own time, there was no physical pain at withdrawal. But the emotional price was still there, and it was high.

Mircea waited, but I offered no explanation. To my surprise, he let it drop. "Unless I am mistaken, you won," was his only comment. "Victory is usually a reason for smiles, not tears.”

"Victory came at too high a price." Way too high.

“They often do." Something moved on my arm, and I jumped. I looked down to find a small green lizard on my forearm, quivering in fear. It stared at me out of big black eyes for a second, then scurried off to hide behind my elbow. Mircea laughed.

"Where did that come from?" It was one of Mac's; I recognized it.

"It must have hid out, Cass," Billy murmured. "I guess it latched on to me when I threw the others. It looks like we saved something, after all." Its tail was ticklish as it scurried up my inner arm, but I let it alone. I'd learned a long time ago; something, however small, was better than nothing.

Pritkin slammed open the theatre doors, dragging in Stoker's six-foot-two frame, and I snatched up Myra 's box. Mircea took the one containing his brother, and I didn't protest. For all I knew, this was how it had happened all along. Maybe Mircea carried his brother home in secret, letting everyone believe that the lynching had gone off as planned. In any case, I wouldn't have won a struggle, and Pritkin was too close to risk it. He'd said he didn't want Myra as Pythia-and after what she'd just pulled, I assumed he meant it, even if he hadn't before. But I still didn't trust him. There were far too many unanswered questions about Mage Pritkin.

I shoved Myra into a pocket of Françoise's voluminous skirts, well out of sight. Mircea saw, but said nothing. He went to the edge of the stage and took Stoker's limp body from Pritkin, hefting it out of the pit as if it were weightless.

"One thing further," he said, after laying Stoker on the boards. He pulled something out of his coat and slipped it onto my foot.

"My shoe." It shone with all the glory a $14.99 special could hope to achieve.

"You dropped it at our first meeting, in your haste to leave. Something told me I might have a chance to return it." His eyes met mine, and the smile edged perilously close to a grin. "That is a lovely gown, but I must say, I preferred your other ensemble. Or lack of it.”

I gave a wry smile and removed the shoe. With my life, I needed combat boots, not heels. Besides, this Cinderella had the Circle, the Senate and the Dark Fey to deal with. She wasn't going to be living happily ever after anytime soon. I handed it to him, careful to avoid actual contact. "Keep it.”

He looked at me quizzically. "What would I do with such a thing?”

I shrugged. "You never know.”

Mircea searched my face for a moment, then moved as if to take my hand. I snatched it back, and a frown line formed on his forehead. "May I assume that we will meet again?”

I hesitated. He would meet me, and make the mistake that would lead us to this. Whether I would see him in my future was another story. If I didn't break the geis, I'd never be able to risk it, and the thought twisted my insides into a tight knot. I was so tempted to warn him not to lay the geis that I had to bite my cheek to stay quiet. But as much as I hated it, the damned thing had played a big part in getting me where I was. It had protected me from unwanted advances as a teenager, helped Mircea find me before Tony did as an adult, and convinced him to let me go in the Senate chamber. If I changed that one thing, what would my life be like? I just didn't know.

I finally decided on a literal interpretation. "I think that's safe to say.”

Mircea nodded, picked up Stoker and bowed. He somehow made it graceful despite having a two-hundred-fifty-pound man draped over one shoulder. "I look forward to it, little witch.”

"I'm not a witch.”

He smiled slightly. "I know." He walked offstage without another word. I gritted my teeth and let him go.

"You do make interesting allies," Pritkin commented, vaulting up onstage. "How did you persuade that creature to aid you? They are usually extremely self-interested." I thought he meant Mircea, and was about to explain the extreme folly of referring to any vamp, especially a master, by that term. He saw my expression and elaborated. "The incubus, the one called Dream.”

My brain skidded to a halt. "What?”

"You didn't know what it was?" Pritkin asked, incredulous. "Are you in the habit of taking aid from strange spirits?”

Billy laughed. "No," I said, ignoring him. "The name- what did you call him?”

"It," Pritkin corrected.

"But the name-”

"Appropriate," he agreed, "an incubus called Dream." I goggled at him, and he frowned. "That is what the names it gave you mean. They are all variations of the same word. Why do you ask?”

I sat frozen in stunned comprehension, hearing a rich Spanish accent telling me that his name was Chavez, and exactly what that name meant. I rolled onto my back, staring sightlessly at the high ceiling. I'd handed three boxes from the Senate's prison into Chavez's manicured hands outside the ice rink. It would, of course, be too much to hope that none of them had been Dracula's.

I briefly wondered if the incubus had been playing me all the time, or if it had been luck that he ended up as my driver. Not that it mattered-either way, I was screwed. There was no way those boxes had made it to Casanova. Which meant that, in my time, Dracula was on the loose again. And it was my fault.

"Finally!" someone said behind me. For a moment, it barely registered. I was adding Dracula to my to-do list and trying not to think about how long that list was getting. But there was something very familiar about that voice. "I didn't think that vampire would ever leave! Now we finish this.”

I turned slowly to find a ghostly outline of a young brunette hovering a few feet off the stage. I remembered those big blue eyes and the long white dress from the last time I'd seen this particular spirit. She'd informed me that she preferred appearing as she had been when traveling in spirit form, rather than duplicating her actual appearance. As a result, she still looked about fifteen.

"Agnes." For some reason, I wasn't even surprised. Or maybe my nerves were just too worn down to react much. "How did you get here?”

"She hitched a ride." Billy sounded aggrieved. "She wouldn't let me tell you, but she was already in the necklace when I fought my way back to your body. She must've been hiding around Headliners, and jumped from Françoise to you.”

"Why?”

He shrugged. “We didn’t talk much. I’d bet payback figures in there somewhere, though.”

"Top of the list," Agnes agreed. She looked at me. "Set her free." It was a command, and spoken in the tones of one used to being immediately obeyed.

I didn't even try to pretend I wasn't following her. "You're after Myra, too.”

Agnes crossed almost transparent arms and scowled at me. "Being murdered does tend to irritate me. Imagine that.”

I shook my head. "I heard her confess, but I still don't understand how she did it.”

"She gave me a solstice gift shortly before she went missing. To help keep me safe, she said." Agnes' lips twisted sardonically.

"The Sebastian medallion, I know. It contained arsenic- the mages found it and cut it open. But I still don't see how it could have been dangerous. The poison was welded inside!”

"She bored a tiny hole in the top before giving it to me. She knew my habits, knew I always dunked a charm or talisman of some sort in my beverages before I drank. It was a habit bequeathed me by my predecessor, who swore my life would end with poison if I wasn't cautious! Of course," Agnes said, drifting closer, "she also told me to buy stocks in '29. Herophile was a nutter.”

"Herophile?”

"Yes, named after the second Pythia at Delphi. By all accounts, she was a little cracked, too.”

I'd been named after a nut. Why didn't that surprise me? "But I still don't see why Myra wanted to kill you. If the power can't go to the assassin of a Pythia-”

"Technically, she didn't kill me.”

“She gave you a poisoned medallion knowing what you’d do with it!" That sounded like murder to me.

"But she didn't force me to use it," Agnes pointed out. She held up a hand as I started to protest. "Yes, I know. Any modern court would convict her, but the power comes from a time before circumstantial evidence and reasonable doubt. She didn't take a sword to me or bash in my head with a club. She didn't even poison my wine-I did that. From its perspective, she's blameless.”

"So what now?" I didn't know what Agnes had meant by finishing this, but it sounded kind of ominous.

"I said the power considers Myra to be blameless. Not that I did," she said viciously. "The little bitch murdered me. Why do you think I'm here?”

"And you're planning to do what?" Now that she was a disembodied spirit, her options seemed pretty limited.

"Let her loose and find out.”

It suddenly occurred to me that Agnes did have one escape route. If she could possess Myra, she could use her power to go back and try to change things. I really hoped that wasn't the plan, because I had no idea how I was supposed to stop her if it was. I'd had enough trouble just dealing with her heir; there was no doubt Agnes could run circles around me if she felt like it.

"You can't intend to mess with the timeline yourself," I said slowly, "not after spending a lifetime protecting it!”

"Don't lecture me about the timeline!" she snapped.

"Who are you talking to?" Pritkin demanded.

I sighed. For a moment, I'd forgotten. Agnes was a spirit, so he couldn't see or hear her any better than he could Billy. “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

"Try me." He wiped away the blood pouring from a cut above his right eyebrow, I suppose to get it out of his eyes, but all it did was smear it. He suddenly looked like he was wearing war paint. I decided not to argue.

"Okay. Agnes is here in spirit form, and she's planning to avenge her own murder. Do you understand anything better now?”

"Yes." He immediately dropped to one knee. "Lady Phemonoe, it is an honor as always." I scowled at him. Way to show me where I ranked.

Agnes barely glanced at him. She sent me a smile, but it wasn't a very nice one. " Myra took away my life. The way I see it, she owes me one.”

Finally, something made sense. "Is that the deal you struck with Françoise? To get you to this point so you could take over Myra 's body instead?" I narrowed my eyes. "Or did you? Was she willing or not?”

"She would never have gotten away from the Light Fey without my help," Agnes replied, avoiding the question. "She probably wouldn't even have survived! My experience kept us both alive. I think she owed me a few years for that!”

"That wasn't your call!”

"And speaking of debts, who do you think sent those wards to your rescue earlier? Your ghost didn't know how they worked. I'm the one who saved you. Again." She looked at me pointedly. "So let her out!”

I clutched the box to my side. I could feel a tiny pulse throbbing at the base of my throat. "What if you can't control her? You were supposed to pass into a norm, not someone like her. Françoise even made things hard on you sometimes. What do you think a Seer of Myra's power would do?”

"That's my problem.”

"Not if she gets away from you!" I pulled out the box and shook it at her. "Do you have any idea what I went through to get this? Myra was trying to kill Mircea so he wouldn't be around to protect me. And she almost disrupted the entire timeline to do it! She almost killed me! And you're telling me it's not my problem?" I was yelling, but I didn't care.

"Let her go, Cassie," Agnes warned.

"Or what? You'll do to me what you did to Françoise?”

"Don't be ridiculous. I couldn't hold you.”

"But you can control Myra?" I shook my head. "I don't think so. She's dangerous, Agnes. I got her in here because of luck, more than anything else. No way am I letting her go.”

Agnes sighed. "You don't understand-" She broke off when Pritkin suddenly ripped the box out of my hand.

"Pritkin, no!" I made a grab for it, but before I got so much as a finger on it, there was a familiar flash and there stood Myra.

Agnes didn't waste any time. As soon as her old apprentice appeared, she flowed past me in a rush and slammed straight into Myra 's shields. They spit and crackled as the two fought, Myra to keep her out, Agnes to find a way in.

"Do you know what you've done?" I asked Pritkin numbly. "She won't hold her. Not forever.”

"She won't need to," he replied, watching the fight grimly.

Before I could ask what he meant, Myra screamed and Agnes disappeared, sinking through whatever chink she'd found in the girl's armor. The slight body shivered once, hard, and then looked up calmly. I suddenly realized that, except for their hair color and minor facial differences, the two women might have been twins. They had the same slight build and delicate bone structure, the same little-girl quality about them. But the eyes that had looked cold and opaque with Myra 's mind behind them were now dancing with life.

"I did it!" Agnes announced, as if that was something to celebrate. She smiled at me. I didn't smile back. All that work, all that sacrifice had been for nothing. Agnes might be powerful, but it wasn't her body. Sooner or later, she would lose her grip, even if only for an instant. And that would be enough.

"You're crazy," I told her.

Pritkin started toward her, but Agnes held up a hand. "You don't have the right," she said simply.

His eyes cut to me and narrowed. "She won't.”

"She must," Agnes said calmly. "You swore an oath.”

Pritkin walked over and knelt by my side. I felt something cold touch my skin and looked down to find him pressing one of his knives into my hand. "Make it quick," he said grimly. "One slice, clean across the jugular.”

I stared at him. "What?”

He closed my hand over the hilt. " Myra condemned herself from her own lips. You heard her. By every law- human, mage, or vampire-she deserves death.”

The pieces finally all fell into place. I didn't much care for the picture they made. "This is why you really wanted me along, isn't it?”

He didn't try to deny it. "I swore an oath to protect the Pythia and her heir, with my life if necessary. The Circle believed I would disregard it on their order, that I would kill Myra with nothing to prove her guilt. But when I give my word, I keep it." His lips curled into a sour smile. "Which is why I don't give it often.”

"You didn't bring me along to keep Myra from shifting," I accused. "You expect me to kill her!”

His expression didn't change. We might have been discussing anything-the weather, a football game. It was surreal. "If I could do it for you, I would," he told me calmly. "But Agnes is correct. Only the Pythia can discipline an initiate.”

"We're not talking about discipline! Myra isn't being sent to bed without supper." I looked at Agnes, hoping to find support. "This is life and death!”

She shrugged Myra 's slim shoulders, her face blank. She trained her for years and they must have been close once, but there was no sign of regret on her face. "You said it yourself. I can't hold her. Not for long.”

"If this is what the job does to you," I told her bluntly, "I know I don't want it.”

Blue eyes met mine, and suddenly they were a little sad. "But you have it.”

I felt the knife blade bite into my hand, where my grip had slipped from the hilt, and the pain seemed to suddenly bring everything home. I shook my head violently. "No. We'll find another way.”

Agnes regarded me gently. It was extremely weird to see that expression on Myra 's face. "There isn't one. What were you planning to do? Keep her tucked up your sleeve? Carry her about with you? Sooner or later, she would get free. I taught her too much to doubt that." Her expression became more stern. "And dealing with rogues is part of your job. That's the rule.”

"It isn't my rule," I said hoarsely.

"Someone has to do it," Agnes said implacably.

"Someone has to take responsibility. And whether you like it or not, that someone is you.”

I swallowed hard. The tears I hadn't shed earlier were rolling down my face, but I didn't care. Another death, this time not only my fault but by my hand? That was not the plan. That was, in fact, the exact opposite of the plan. I'd wanted to win, but not like this. I was sick of death, especially death I helped to cause. A bitter taste flooded my mouth. "I can't.”

Agnes bent down and a gentle hand cupped my face. "You haven't even started to learn what you can do yet. But you will." She stepped away from me, a small, sad smile on her face. "I would have liked to have trained you, Cassie." She looked at Pritkin. "She'll need help," she said simply.

Pritkin was back on his knees, his face white. "I know.”

Agnes nodded and looked at me. A spasm passed over her face for a moment, but she regained control. "I will never teach you most of the lessons you will need," she continued, "but I find I have time for one.”

I only realized that the knife was gone when I saw it in her small hand. "Agnes, no!" I scrambled to my feet, but it was too late. She didn't hesitate for a second. By the time I reached her, she'd already sunk to her knees, Myra's pristine white gown drenched in blood. She settled to the floor almost gracefully, her body a pale smear in the middle of all that vivid color.

I stared around frantically, but there was no sign of her spirit. Neither hers nor Myra's. I whirled on Pritkin, who was still on his knees, watching the blood spill across the boards in a widening stain. For a second, he looked lost, like a bewildered child. Then the expression was gone so quickly I wasn't sure it had been there at all.

"Where is she?" I demanded, my voice shrill with fear. "I can't see her!" He looked up at me, but it was almost as if his eyes didn't focus for a moment. I looked back at Myra's crumpled form, and my vision blurred to the point that it was hard to tell where the blood ended and the red fabric of the dress began. "Pritkin!”

"She's gone.”

I rounded on him, stunned and disbelieving. "What do you mean, she's gone? Gone where? Into another host?”

"No." He got up and came over to her body, and with a whispered word, the area around her was engulfed in crimson flames. They cast a reddish glow on the old boards and sparked glints off the gilt frame of the stage, but it wasn't a normal fire. The slim figure at the heart of the blaze dusted to ashes in seconds, leaving only charred boards behind. Pritkin turned to me, and his eyes were pained. It was that look, more than his words, that got through. "Just gone.”

I shook my head, blindly. "No! We could have found someplace safe for Myra. Agnes could have found another host. I'd have helped her. It didn't have to end this way!”

He gripped my arms painfully. "Do you still not understand?”

"Understand what? She died for nothing!" I was crying, but it was panic that clouded my vision, making the world run in streams of color. Agnes couldn't be gone. I'd believed I was on my own before, but I hadn't truly understood the odds against me. Now I did, and I knew I wouldn't be enough. "I'll go back, I'll save her-" I began, only to have him shake me so hard, my teeth rattled.

"Lady Phemonoe died doing her duty. She was one of the greatest of her line. You will not disgrace her!”

"Disgrace her? I'm talking about saving her!”

"There are some things even the Pythia cannot change," he said, his hard expression softening. "Myra had to die, and someone had to make sure that she couldn't use her power to jump into another body before her spirit was pulled away. And the only way to do that…”

Understanding finally dawned. "Was for someone to go with her," I whispered. I stared at the charred boards, disbelieving. It had all happened so fast. Maybe a fully trained Pythia wouldn't be plagued by doubts or worry, wouldn't second-guess her decisions or wonder what right she had to the power she held. But I hadn't been trained, and I didn't know what to do. Panic stopped my throat, froze my brain. I was on my own, and I was terrified.

"I assume you will go after the Codex no matter what I decide?" Pritkin asked.

It took a moment for my brain to catch up with my ears. And even then I didn't get it. Why was he asking about this now? A hundred problems were pulling at me, tugging me in different directions, to the point that I couldn't think clearly about any of them. All I knew was that Agnes was gone. And that it was all up to me now.

"What?" I asked stupidly.

"The Codex" he said patiently. "You are determined to seek it out?”

"I don't have a choice," I said, confused. “The geis won't budge. And I can't function if it gets much worse." At the moment I wasn't sure I could function anyway.

He nodded once, up and down. "Then I will help you.”

I could feel the tears drying on my face, but I couldn't be bothered to wipe them away. "I always wondered if you have a death wish. I guess now I know.”

"I promised Lady Phemonoe that I would help you.”

I wrenched away from him, suddenly furious. "Agnes is gone! And I don't want another corpse on my hands. They're bloody enough!" I tried to move back, to get away from those burned boards, but my foot caught on the hem of the dress and I ended up on my hands and knees.

"I wasn't asking your permission," he informed me coolly.

I looked up at him through a curtain of tangled hair. "I'll never be the Pythia she was," I warned. "I may not be any good at all.”

For the first time ever, I saw what looked like a genuine smile cross Pritkin's face. "Well, that's encouraging." He hauled me to my feet. "No one who wants power should ever be allowed to wield it.”

“Then I'll be great," I said bitterly, "because no one could possibly want it any less than I do.”

Pritkin didn't answer. Instead, to my disbelief, he sank to one knee in front of me. His clothes were torn and bloody, his face soot-stained, but there was still something impressive about him. "I don't recall the exact wording," he said. "And there should be witnesses-”

"What am I?" Billy asked, indignant, as he flowed back inside my necklace.

Pritkin ignored him. "But I believe it went something like this: I swear to defend you and your appointed successor against all malefactors present and to come, in peace and in war, for as long as I live and you continue to remain true to the ideals of your office.”

I stared down at him, and suddenly a weight seemed to lift from my shoulders. However exasperating, annoying and just plain asinine Pritkin could be at times, he was a good man to have in a fight. And I had a feeling there was a lot of that ahead. "So I guess you'll be calling me Lady Herophile the Second from now on?”

"The Seventh." He was on his knees, but I received the same old arrogant look from those green eyes. "And don't count on it.”

The main door slammed open and a stream of vamps poured in, murder in their eyes. I grabbed Pritkin's shoulder and gave him a weary smile. "I can live with that," I said, and shifted.