Touch The Dark

Chapter 11

"That's not possible." I felt that I was on pretty solid ground. "I see the past; I don't change it."

"The Pythia's power is passing," Pritkin murmured, as if he hadn't heard me. "But no. It's impossible." He suddenly looked like a confused little boy. "The Pythia cannot possess anyone. She can't have given you that ability; she doesn't have it."

"Leave that aside," Louis-César said almost breathlessly. He stared at Pritkin, his face eager. "Could the Pythia's power allow Cassandra to travel metaphysically to other places, other times?"

Pritkin looked even more unsure. "I need to consult my Circle," he said, his voice slightly unsteady. "I was not prepared for this. They told me she was only a suspected rogue. The Pythia has an heir. Her powers should not come to this… person."

"What powers?" I decided to press my advantage now that I was back to person status, however tentatively. Better to find out what he knew before he decided I was some other weird kind of demon.

"No." Pritkin shook his head adamantly. "I cannot speak for the Circle."

"You've been trying to speak for them all evening," Tomas said, grabbing the mage's shoulder hard enough that he would have stumbled if Mircea's power hadn't still held him. "But now that you can help us by doing so, you refuse?" Tomas' wrist had healed except for an ugly red scar; but his face was no better. His temper didn't seem to have improved, either.

"I… these are dangerous matters. I cannot speak of them without authorization."

"You said they know what you know," Tomas growled. "Contact them; get permission."

Pritkin looked about wildly, as if searching for help. He didn't find any. "I will try, but I know they will want to meet to discuss this. And they will want her brought before them. It will not be decided quickly."

"How long?" Louis-César had joined Tomas, and together they did intimidating really well. Hell, they did okay separately.

Pritkin made the mistake of trying to cover his nervousness with rudeness. He was far too offhand to deal with a senator. "I don't know. Perhaps days."

Louis-César's blue eyes abruptly flashed to a shimmering gray, like mercury, and his pupils almost completely disappeared. I held my breath, and I wasn't alone. The only sound in the room was Pritkin's harsh breathing, and it echoed loudly like someone had slipped a microphone on him. Mircea abruptly released him and he would have slumped to the floor if Louis-César hadn't grabbed his shirt and slammed him back into the wall.

Seeing Louis-César in action at the casino hadn't convinced me that here was a predator's predator. He fought well, but I'd seen a lot of good fighters through the years, and I wasn't sold on the idea that a rapier, however long and sharp, was a substitute for a decent firearm. I'd spent too much time at Tony's, better known as Guns R Us, for that. I understood why he scared the crap out of me—he was my portal to the land of crazed ghosts and filthy dungeons—but other people didn't have that problem, so I hadn't understood why they seemed so afraid of him. Most of the time, he looked almost sweet, with his big blue eyes and his dimples. But I finally got the message. He was still handsome, but it was the splendor of a tornado right before it rips through a city. In that second, I believed that he could have made that crazy plan at Dante's work, that he really could have held off twenty vamps while Tomas got me to safety. "We don't have days," he hissed, and the blood drained the rest of the way from Pritkin's face.

Mircea spoke, and his voice was like a calm stream of water flowing about the room, quieting tempers and cooling cheeks. I felt my heartbeat slow down and I was finally able to get a deep breath. "Perhaps Mage Pritkin would like to contact his Circle elsewhere? I think he has told us what we needed to know, by implication, if nothing else." He smiled at Pritkin. "You might think to ask them why they sent you, their best-known demon hunter, after Cassie. You have something of a reputation for being—how shall I put it? — extremely single-minded? If I were the suspicious type, I might almost believe that they wanted you to mistake what she was, and remove a possible rival from contention." Pritkin stared at him, and his face slowly flushed an angry brick red. I hoped his heart wasn't getting as much of a workout as his complexion. I had the feeling that if he didn't give himself a heart attack, someone in the Circle was about to have some explaining to do.

"He isn't leaving!" Louis-César and I spoke at the same time. He deferred to me with a graceful gesture, and I watched him nervously as I scrambled up to face Pritkin. The vamp's eyes were still silver, and I didn't want to find out what happened when he really lost his temper.

"You aren't going anywhere until I get some answers. Who is the Pythia, why do you keep calling me sybil and what powers are you talking about?"

Pritkin complied without even an argument. The fight seemed to have gone out of him for the moment, and his voice was slightly hoarse. "The Pythia was the name of the ancient seer of Delphi, Apollo's greatest temple. For two thousand years, the women selected for the position were considered the oracle of the world, with kings and emperors deciding policy based on their advice. The position lapsed with the decline of Greece, but the term is still used out of respect. It is the title of the world's chief seer, a strong ally of the Circle. She is one of our chief assets, since nonhumans do not have the gift."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Every time a new Pythia is chosen, a sybil—our name for a true clairvoyant—is selected as her heir. She is carefully trained from childhood to understand the burden and how to bear it. The Pythia is old and her control of the power is failing. It should pass to her heir, but she was kidnapped by Rasputin and the Dark Circle more than six months ago." His eyes looked haunted. "The Pythia's power has passed in an unbroken tradition for thousands of years. But now, I fear for the succession. The heir must be dead. Why else would the power come to you, even in part? A rogue with no training, no understanding of what the position entails?"

Two words of that speech echoed in my brain. I stared at him in horror. "In part?! What the hell does that mean?" My voice had gotten shrill and I paused to calm down a little. "No way. Tell your Circle that I don't want the job."

"It is not a job. It is a calling. And the heir has no choice."

"Like hell I don't! You need to find this sybil person and get her back." I looked at Tomas, and it was almost painful to do so. "And what did you use on his face? It isn't healing."

Rafe answered. "It was dragon's blood, mia Stella. Don't worry, it will heal with time." Tomas sent me a surprised look, as if he hadn't expected me to care what happened to him, and I looked away. I noticed Mircea regarding me thoughtfully, and I put on as neutral a face as possible. Let them think whatever they liked. I would have been as concerned about anyone who got hurt trying to help me.

Pritkin spoke in a tired voice. "We have searched for her. For the last six months, we have done little else. The Pythia is very old and has had to carry the power far longer than she should have done. Her health is failing, and her control along with it. We understand the necessity for speed better than you, but our search has been in vain."

I didn't see the problem here. "Then appoint someone else heir."

"I told you; it is not an appointed position. The power goes where it will, to whoever is most worthy, the ancient texts say. There should have been no contest. You are young and untrained, whereas our sybil has studied for years for the position. She was selected late, but she was trained well. We did not think you would be a rival…"

He stopped, too late, and I pounced. "You knew about me? How?"

The arrogance began to bleed back into his face. "Your entire line is tainted. Your mother was the same; you even look like her."

"Wait a minute. You knew my mother? How?" He looked about thirty-five, maybe younger. So he wasn't aging at normal speed, either, unless the Circle admitted its members at fifteen.

"She was the heir," Pritkin told me, his lips thin with rage. "She had to be pure, untouched, as she knew very well. But she had an affair with your father, a vampire's servant! And worse, she hid it from the Circle until she became pregnant with you and ran away with him. Who knows what would have happened to the power, had we let it fill an unclean vessel?"

"Unclean?" Okay, now I was pissed. "She was my mother!"

"She was unfit to be the heir! I can only be grateful we discovered her in time."

"So, if someone's not a virgin, they can't be heir?"

"Exactly." He smiled nastily at me. "Yet another reason you are disqualified."

I didn't bother to correct him. I was willing to bet that my sexual experience gave their pure-as-the-driven-snow sybil a run for her money, although not for the same reasons. Eugenie had guarded me like a hawk, and when I wasn't with her, I was running for my life. I'd never trusted anyone enough to get that close. It also helped that most of the vamps at Tony's had rivaled Alphonse in the looks department, and that they'd been warned off me anyway. The most temptation I'd experienced had been with Tomas, the Senate's spy who had been feeding off me without permission, and Mircea, who was probably plotting some nefarious scheme. I have no taste in men.

"Let me get this straight. First you decide I'm a demon because of a power I didn't ask for and don't even understand. Then, when that falls through, you label me a fallen sybil and a ho. Am I missing something, or do you just not like me?"

Mircea laughed, and even Louis-César's lips twitched. Tomas either didn't get the joke or wasn't in a laughing mood. Pritkin, of course, was annoyed. "Everything you say only confirms my initial impression. You would be a disaster as Pythia."

"The power doesn't seem to care."

"That is why the Circle exists, to intervene in these cases!" He glared at me, so fiercely that I flinched back before I could stop myself. "Haven't you ever wondered why your mother named you Cassandra? It is our term for a fallen sybil, one who uses her power for ill instead of good. One allied with the Black Circle. One who might be able to summon ghosts and dark witches to fight for her, to possess humans like a demon, and to command a dark weapon so easily. The power will not be allowed to pass to someone like you!"

"And if it does?"

"It won't." It was emphatic enough that I mentally added another group to the long list of people who wanted me dead.

"The Senate will protect you," Louis-César assured me.

I turned jaded eyes on him. "Sure it will. As long as I do whatever it wants."

Mircea smirked at Louis-César's expression. "She grew up at one of our courts. Did you really think she would not grasp the situation? Now remove the mage," he ordered Raphael. "We will talk business with our Cassandra in private." Pritkin was wrestled from the room, and I for one was glad to see him go. If I never met another war mage in my life, I'd count myself lucky. I waited to see what the Senate's continued help was going to cost me.

"We will not turn you over to the Circle, mademoiselle." Louis-César's eyes, which were back to blue, shone with sincerity. I stared at him. Was he really that naive, or was it all part of the honorable-little-boy routine?

"But we may not be able to protect you if their ally wins the duel tonight," Mircea added. "Rasputin would decide things then, and I would not like to see you in his power. The Silver Circle might kill you if you fall into their hands, but I do not wish to speculate about what the Black will do. It is to your advantage that we win, Cassandra."

We looked at each other and had one of those moments of perfect understanding. Ah, enlightened self-interest: the coin of my old world. It felt good to get back on familiar ground. No talk of honor with Mircea; just plain business. "Did you train Tony or what?"

Mircea laughed delightedly. Louis-César shot him an unhappy look before turning his eyes back to me. "Mademoiselle, until tonight, I did not truly believe that anyone could do what you can. But now that I know, I have hope again. The Pythia is the final arbiter of disagreements within the magical community, our Supreme Court, if you like. Without a strong Pythia, with the power to enforce her rulings, the problem between the light Fey and the Silver Circle may escalate to war, as ours with the Black already has. The structure of our world is fracturing."

He glanced at the door and Mircea cocked his head slightly. "The spell is active. Even with enhanced hearing, Pritkin cannot eavesdrop. Tell her."

Louis-César looked at me and I got that feeling again of power sliding along my skin. His control was slipping. I thrust my bracelet into my pocket so it wouldn't go nuts. I didn't want to find out what would happen if it attacked him. "We believe that a challenger to the Consul, Lord Rasputin, is using the missing sybil in his bid for power. For months, Senate members have been attacked by their own retainers. In some cases those who have served them for centuries, who were thought completely loyal, have turned on them without warning. The guards in the Senate chamber who attacked you were some of these. Sworn to the Consul's own power, still they turned. Now we may understand why."

Maybe I was missing something. I wasn't exactly at my best. "Okay, why?"

Rafe came forward and knelt at my feet. I petted his messy curls and felt a little better. He couldn't do a damn thing for me, but it was nice having him around. "Don't you see, mia stella? The sybil must have traveled in time as you did, and somehow she interfered with the bonding between servants and masters. It has long been thought that the Pythia experiences all times at once, instead of traveling only in one direction as we do. It may be that the missing sybil is gaining power as you have recently done. Only she has used the power for harm."

"Wait a minute." My head hurt. "There are so many problems with that statement, I don't know where to start. How do you interfere with a bond that close? And how about the fact that I'm not the heir? Pritkin made that pretty clear."

"No," Louis-César said, "he made it clear that he did not wish the power to come to you. But obviously he fears that it has, at least in part, or he would not have tried to kill you. I apologize for that. If we had truly believed him that hostile, we would not have allowed him to stay. But we hoped he would confirm our suspicions."

"Which he did, after a fashion," Mircea commented. "He may not have said as much, but his reactions make it clear that part of the power the Pythia holds has leaked to Cassie, and therefore in all likelihood to the other heir as well."

I shook my head. "But Pritkin said the Pythia can't possess people, so her heir wouldn't be able to either, right? And if that's true, it would really limit what she could do. Energy reserves are used up fast in other times, real fast. Especially if you do anything more than stand around. When I was, um, in Louis-César, I didn't have that problem, but if she can't latch on to a human energy source, she won't last long enough to do very much."

"She might not need long," Mircea said thoughtfully. "The act of creating a new vampire is a delicate process. Any deviation can have very unfortunate results."

I'd heard a few horror stories. Best-case scenario, the new vamp simply never rose. He or she stayed dead after three days, and you knew there had been a problem. Worst-case scenario, they rose without any higher brain functions, a horrible mess called a revenant. They were like animals who lived only to hunt. And because they couldn't reason, they didn't acknowledge the mastery of the one who made them. The only thing to do was to hunt them down before they went crazy on a group of humans.

"What could someone with no more power than a new ghost do in, what, about an hour?" I looked at Tomas. "Is that right? How long were we there?"

"It could not have been much longer, but we were exerting ourselves heavily. We might have been able to prolong our stay otherwise."

"Yeah, but I wouldn't know how to interfere with a vamp making a new servant, and even as a spirit, I wouldn't like to try. How would she do it?"

"The sybil has Rasputin to tell her what to do," Louis-César reminded me. "She would go with detailed instructions, and possibly others to aid her."

"It would not be so difficult," Mircea added. "The individual in question has to be pure, with no bites from another vampire in the last few years. They have to be willing and at peace when they are made, and healthy, or at least not seriously ill. If someone tampered with any of these conditions, centuries later, a powerful master such as Rasputin might be able to override the weakened bond." He thought about it for a minute. "Interference in the first condition seems to me unlikely. That would result in the subjects failing to rise, which would not help Rasputin's cause: the master would have simply selected other servants. It is also likely that a master would detect another's bite and pass them by."

"What would she have to do?"

He shrugged. "There are many possibilities. Poison them with a slow-acting toxin, for instance. They would die before it became obvious that they were seriously weakened, and the poison would not harm them once they rose. Yet it would severely diminish their attachment to their master. Or they could be given a stimulant powerful enough that they remained aware and afraid through the transition, instead of peaceful and euphoric."

"But you can't take stuff with you in spirit form," I pointed out. "Where would she get the poison?"

"She likely retrieved whatever medium she used from where her allies had placed it. The Black Circle has existed almost as long as the Silver—it dates to the middle of the third millennium B.C.E. — and poison has always been a favorite weapon of its members. They could easily have provided what was needed."

"But why would the old Black Circle trust Rasputin?" If he was strong enough to cause this much hell, I doubted the guy had actually been born a Russian peasant in the latter nineteenth century. It was probably a name he'd adopted, possibly after killing the owner or by making it up and using mental tricks to make people believe his story. But it didn't seem likely that he'd been around long enough to have been at Carcassonne when I was there. The Senate would not have so badly underestimated a vamp that old.

"He is allied with their modern counterparts, who could tell him what to say," Mircea explained. "The sybil could have taken a message to the dark mages, asking for aid. The Silver Circle is allied with us, and it is an old alliance. Disrupting it would be a coup for the dark."

My head was swimming. I had a hard time believing that the Black Circle in any era would exert themselves for future gain that none of them would live to see. But it wasn't my problem. "What do you expect me to do? Go back and arm wrestle her or something? Shouldn't you be more worried about the duel?"

"We are." Louis-César was grim. "In less than twelve hours, I am scheduled to duel Rasputin to the death. I will defeat him, if I am still here."

"You planning on going somewhere?"

I meant it as a joke, but he didn't look like he found it funny. "Possibly. Rasputin agreed to the duel believing that he would face Mei Ling. It was thought that, when I was named champion instead, he would withdraw. But he did not, even though he must know that he cannot defeat me."

I decided not to point out how conceited that sounded. "But he can't interfere with you. You're a first-level master; he isn't strong enough to influence you. Even if he weakened your bond with your old master, at your level, it doesn't matter anymore. The tactics he's used on the other vamps won't work."

"No, but he could prevent me from being made at all."

I debated whether to point out the obvious. I decided to risk it. "No offense—I'm sure you deserve your rep—but there's got to be other champions the Consul could choose. She's been around two thousand years; she has to know people."

"True." Louis-César didn't look insulted, to my relief. "She had other names in mind if I declined."

"Then what's the problem, other than for you personally?"

"The problem, dulceaţă" Mircea said, "is that Rasputin has also never lost a duel. There were other names on the Consul's list, but none that we are confident can manage victory no matter the trickery used against him. Louis-César has fought more duels than the rest of the Consul's choices combined. He must be our champion, for our champion must win."

"And that has to do with me how?" I was getting a very bad feeling.

"We need to ensure that he does not alter time again, dulceaţă. We need you to go back and stop him from interfering with the birth of our champion."

"How would she do that?" Tomas asked before I could. "How can she guard him from a curse?"

Louis-César was looking at Tomas as if he'd lost his mind. "What curse?".

"Is that not how you were made?"

"You know perfectly well it was not!"

Billy Joe streamed in the window, a dove gray cloud. "Did I miss anything?"

"You are completely out of your mind," I informed them. Too bad for their plans, but I wasn't about to die for the Consul, or for anybody else if I could help it. "Do you get the implications here? I took Tomas back with me. Okay, it was by mistake, but if they've been doing this as long as you say, they've almost certainly figured out how to do it, too." Someone had brought the gypsy into this century, and it hadn't been me. "I could be facing Rasputin himself, and I'm not a duelist!"

"I missed something, didn't I?" Billy Joe drifted around, but I ignored him.

"You took Tomas with you when you were inhabiting his body. The sybil can't do that; Pritkin told us as much, dulceaţă."

"Pritkin's an idiot," I reminded Mircea. "We don't know that's why Tomas was able to hitch a ride. Maybe all I have to do is touch someone. Maybe she can do it, too."

Billy drifted in front of my vision, making the whole room look like I was seeing it through a glittery gray scarf. "We need to talk, Cass. You won't believe what I found out at Dante's!" I cocked an eyebrow at him but didn't dare say anything. I didn't want to alert anyone to his presence. I had a feeling I would need him before long.

Tomas was looking at me. "I am the Consul's second choice. I can deal with Rasputin." I brightened. Anything that would get me out of facing the mad monk in that house of horrors sounded promising.

Unfortunately, Mircea did not look convinced. "Forgive me, my friend; I do not doubt your prowess, but I have seen Rasputin fight. You have not. And where my life is concerned, I prefer a sure thing."

Billy drifted a few feet away and put his hands on his hips. "All right. I'll talk; you listen. I got a glimpse into the head of that witch you helped before she ran off with the pixie. The condensed version is that Tony and the Black Circle have been selling witches to the Fey, and guess where they've been getting them? I mean, the white knights would have noticed if a bunch of magic users suddenly went missing, right?" I glared at him. It was like being caught in the dentist's chair with a chatty hygienist. It wasn't as if I could answer.

"I can defeat him." Tomas sounded certain, but Louis-César made an odd sort of sound, almost like a cat sneezing. I suppose it was French.

"You could not defeat me a century ago. You are not much stronger now."

"You were lucky! It would not happen if we dueled again!"

Louis-César looked annoyed. "I do not have to duel you. I own you."

I blinked in confusion. Had I missed something, trying to follow two conversations at once? Masters and servants usually had more of a bond than these two showed. Hell, even though Tony might try to kill Mircea, he wouldn't talk to him like that. "I thought someone named Alejandro was your master?" I asked Tomas.

"He was. One of his servants made me, but Alejandro killed him shortly thereafter and took me for himself. He was carving out an empire within the Spanish lands in the New World and he needed a warrior to help him. We succeeded, and he eventually organized a new Senate, but his tactics never changed. He acts to this day as if every question is a challenge, every plea for leniency a threat. I challenged him as soon as I grew strong enough, and I would have succeeded in ending his reign of terror, if not for outside interference."

I looked at Louis-César in surprise. "You fought him?"

The Frenchman nodded distractedly. "Tomas challenged for leadership of the Latin American Senate. Its Consul asked me to stand as his champion and I agreed. Tomas lost." He said the latter with a slight shrug, as if it almost went without saying. It seemed to me that maybe Louis-César needed to lose once in a while. Carrying around that much of an ego had to be tiring. But then, if he lost he'd probably end up dead, and in this case, so would we. All things considered, maybe a little arrogance wasn't so bad. And at least the lack of a bond was explained. Servants won through force had to be kept that way; it was never as close a relationship as through blood.

Something occurred to me. "You challenged? But you'd have to be a first-level master to do that." I'd known Tomas was powerful, but this was a shock. That Louis-César could hold a first-level master in thrall was a hell of a statement about his strength. I hadn't even known it was possible.

"Tomas is more than five hundred years old, mademoiselle. His mother was a high-ranking Incan noblewoman before the European invasion," Louis-César said carelessly. "She was forced by one of Pizarro's men, and Tomas was the result. He grew up in a time when a smallpox epidemic had killed many Incan nobles, leaving a vacuum of power. He organized some of the scattered tribes into a force to resist the Spanish advance, and thereby came to Alejandro's notice. Although a bastard, he—" Tomas gave a growl, and Louis-César glanced at him. "I use the term technically, Tomas. If you recall, I, too, am a bastard."

"That I am not likely to forget."

The shimmering tides of power were back, stronger than before, and this time I got caught in the middle. It felt like two showers of scalding water had been flung at me, and I yelped. "Cut it out!"

"My apologies, mademoiselle." Louis-César inclined his head. "You are quite right. I will chastise my servant later."

Tomas glared at him regally. "You will try."

"Tomas!" Mircea and I said it at the same time, in the same exasperated tone.

Louis-César shot him a warning look. "Be careful how you speak to me, Tomas. You do not wish me to make your punishment even more… thorough."

"You are a child compared to me! I was already a master vampire before you were even made!"

Louis-César smiled slightly, and his eyes flashed silver. "Not enough of one."

Billy waved a pale hand in front of my face. "Are you listening to me? Breaking news here!"

I mouthed, "Later," but he didn't go away.

"This is big, Cass! The Black Circle has kept the trade quiet by snatching witches who were fated to die young, in an accident or in the Inquisition or whatever. They could grab them at the last minute and sell them to the Fey without worrying that someone would miss them and report it. No one expected to see someone taken by the Inquisition again—they didn't acquit too many, you know? It was a neat trick to get around the treaty."

"But how did they know?" How could anyone know ahead of time when someone was fated to die? Unless… Mircea gave me an odd look, and I smiled innocently at him. It was a mistake. Those sharp dark eyes flitted about the room, but even a master vamp can't see Billy.

"That witch you saved was snatched by a group of dark mages that same night," Billy elaborated. "The gypsies have always stayed outside both circles, so I guess they figured they could take her without alerting the white knights." I frowned. That still didn't explain how she ended up in our century, if people from her own time took her, but there was no way for me to ask.

Mircea intervened before things could heat up any further between the vamps. "May I remind you that while you are grandstanding, time ticks away and our chances with it? Your quarrel will wait; our business will not."

"But la mademoiselle does not want to do it," Louis-César said, running a hand through his hair. It seemed to be a nervous habit. I noticed that his curls were darker than I remembered from my vision, or whatever it was. I wondered whether that was a trick of the light, or if hundreds of years out of the sun darkens auburn hair. "I was afraid of this. And we cannot force her."

Mircea and I looked at him, then at each other. "Is he for real?" I couldn't help asking.

Mircea sighed. "He has always been that way; it is his only real flaw." He smiled at me, and it was Tony's smile—his let's cut the crap and get down to business smile. It was the expression that reminded me of the job Mircea did for the Senate. He was the Consul's chief negotiator, and despite the rumors, he had not received the position because of the respect given his family name by vamps worldwide. They might be pleased to meet him for the prestige of it, something like a normal person getting to sit down with a favorite movie star, but it wouldn't cut him any slack at the bargaining table. No, Mircea had won the seat fair and square, by making the best deals of any representative the Senate had ever had. And that was with people he didn't know nearly as well as he knew me. "What will it take, dulceaţă? Security, money… Antonio's head on a silver charger?"

"That last one sounds tempting. But it's not enough."

Mircea and I had skipped over the whole refusal thing and gone straight to haggling. There was no point in mentioning that Mircea would kill me if I said no. He would do it because he'd have no choice—if he didn't, the Consul would give someone else the job—and because he would be quick. Quicker than Jack. I didn't like the errand they had set me, but next to an evening with the Consul's bright-eyed boy, it was a picnic. But just because I had no other options didn't mean I shouldn't get as much for my services as possible. It was, after all, a seller's market. Who else were they going to get?

Mircea was looking as if he wondered whether acting outraged because I'd demanded the life of one of his oldest retainers would work. I rolled my eyes. "Don't bother. Giving me Tony's head is no big deal and you know it. He betrayed you—you have to kill him."

He smiled slightly. "True. But it would also solve a problem for you, would it not?"

"But it won't cost you anything. Isn't your life worth a little something?"

"What else would you like then, my beautiful Cassandra?" He stepped forward, a gleam in his eye, and I put the chair between us.

"Don't try it."

He grinned at me, unrepentant. "Then name your price."

"You want my help? Tell me what happened to my father."

Rafe gave a startled squeak and looked wide-eyed at Mircea, who sighed and shook his head in disgust. I sympathized; Rafe had always had a lousy poker face—I'd started beating him at cards by age eight—and he obviously hadn't improved. He subsided under Mircea's displeasure, but the damage was done. Mircea braved it out anyway, of course; I would have thought less of him otherwise. "Your father, dulceaţă? He died in a car bomb, did he not? Is that not one reason why you are upset with our Antonio?"

"Then what did Jimmy mean? He told me not to kill him, because he knew the truth about what happened."

Mircea shrugged. "Since he was the 'hit man'—is that not the phrase? — on the job, I am sure he does know details, dulceaţă. Why did you not ask him?"

"Because Pritkin blew a hole in him before I could. But you know, don't you?"

Mircea smiled, and once again I saw where Tony got it. "Is that knowledge your price?"

I looked at Rafe, and he looked back. I thought he was about to speak when Mircea's hand descended on his shoulder. "No, no, Raphael. It would not be fair to give our Cassandra information for which she has not yet paid." He smiled, and there was more calculation than affection in it. "Do we have a deal?"

I glanced at Billy, who was floating near the ceiling with an impatient look on his face. He didn't comment, so I assumed his news didn't have any bearing on my choice. I sent him an irritated look and he disappeared, in a snit because I hadn't dropped everything for him. Typical. I'd have preferred to find out more before agreeing to Mircea's terms, but I didn't have a lot of options. It's hard to push the price too high when you're a sure thing and the buyer knows it. I literally had no choice but to help them, so technically Mircea was being generous by offering anything. Of course, he probably wanted me doing my best on the errand, so keeping me in a good mood was worth a concession or two. Or maybe he was fond of me. No, that kind of thinking was dangerous.

"Okay. We have a deal. Tell me."

"In a moment, dulceaţă. First, I believe we need to inform the Consul. Tomas, if you would be so good? She may have final instructions." He noticed Tomas' mulish expression. "You have my word that we will wait the attempt on your return. You will be accompanying her, will you not?"

"Yes." Tomas looked at me challengingly, but I didn't object. If Rasputin did show up, it would be nice to have someone along, especially someone who had shown he could handle himself in an emergency. Even if it was only to have company when everything went to hell. Tomas started to say something else but stopped when Mircea stepped to my side and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Now, Tomas!" Louis-César looked impatient. Tomas glared at him but he left, slamming the door behind him.

"And we need the Tears, do we not, to be on the safe side?" Louis-César nodded and left right behind Tomas.

"The Tears? Do I want to know?"

"Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you." Mircea smiled reassuringly. "The Tears of Apollo are an ancient concoction. They have been used to aid in meditative trances for centuries. They are quite safe."

"But why do we need them? I didn't have them before."

"And you quickly ran out of energy before. They will help you, Cassandra. Remember, I have a vested interest in seeing that this goes well. I would not lie to you." I believed that answer more than I would have a heartfelt declaration of concern for my welfare, and nodded. I'd use the damn Tears, whatever they were. Anything to up the odds.

Mircea glanced at Raphael. "Would you be so good as to see if clothing has been arranged for Cassie? She must be tired of wearing such a bulky robe." He gave an odd little smile. "Take your time."

Rafe looked uncertain—I could tell he didn't want to leave Mircea and me alone for some reason—but he went. Mircea locked the door behind him and leaned against it, regarding me with suddenly serious eyes. "And now for the real negotiations, my Cassandra."