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“Ow!” Ray and I went for them at the same time and knocked heads. Hard.
“At this rate, the bad guys aren’t going to have to take us out,” I said, rubbing my newest knot.
“There are no bad guys!” Ray said, jerking on a white dress shirt. “It’s bullcrap. How is somebody gonna attack that?”
He gestured at the huge edifice above us, which was blazing with light from every window. It was glittering off an acre of expensive marble and a mass of silken banners and an army of golden breastplates on the chests of the double row of honor guards who were lining the sweeping staircase. It was a ridiculous over-the-top display that nonetheless managed to be damned impressive.
And to make my palms sweat.
Of course, they were doing that anyway. Just like my knees kept trying to buckle and my hands kept wanting to shake, and if the plan had been to fight, I’d have been in trouble. Fortunately, that wasn’t on the agenda.
At least, I really hoped not.
“Nothing’s gonna happen,” Ray said, as if he’d heard me. “You’re being paranoid.”
“Okay,” I said, getting the other stocking in place. “Then what about Æsubrand’s story?”
Ray rolled his eyes. “What story? Ancient war, blah, blah, something about some gods, blah, blah, fey army coming to kill everybody, blah, blah, blah. No. Just no.”
And yeah, I knew how it sounded. Which was why the only one of Marlowe’s boys I’d been able to reach by phone had hung up on me. But what Æsubrand said had answered a lot of questions.
“What he said answered a lot of questions,” I told Ray, who was fighting with his cuff links.
“Like what?”
“Like what the deal is with all those hybrids we keep finding. Crossbreeds like Stinky have been turning up everywhere—weird ones that don’t make sense. There were a bunch at that auction where I found him, and the Senate has a whole collection—”
“Slaves run away all the time,” Ray said dismissively. “And there’s occasionally some sicko trying to crossbreed ’em, to get stronger specimens for the fights. Like the ones Geminus used to run.”
“And maybe that’s where he got the idea,” I pointed out. “He was weapons master for the Senate. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for someone like him to wonder what would happen if you combined human and fey magic—”
“Only you can’t,” Ray interrupted crabbily. “Everybody knows that. It’s why you don’t see the mages going into Faerie without permission and an escort—half the time their spells don’t work, or they’re weak as water when they do. And the fey don’t come here much, because their spells take, like, ten times the strength that they do back home.”
“Which is my point. Æsubrand said that the experiments were about crossing human and fey magical creatures to come up with one whose magic worked both places. And then to harvest its abilities—”
“If it was that easy, why didn’t somebody do it a long time ago?”
“The fey didn’t do it because the only reason you’d try such a thing is if you were planning on fighting a war here,” I told him, striving for patience. “Something that most of them had no interest in. The Svarestri were the only ones who did, and they were the bigots of Faerie. They thought that everyone, especially everyone from Earth, was inferior and they never interbred with them, much less experimented—”
“And our side?” Ray demanded. “The Circle’s had plenty of spats with the fey, but nothing ever comes of ’em because humans can’t fight there and fey can’t fight here—”
“I didn’t say it was easy,” I interrupted, because patience isn’t really my thing. “And the Circle didn’t have a thousand-year-old necromancer working for them!”
“I’d still have to see it to believe it.”
“Well, I did see it,” I said curtly, brushing ruthlessly at the tangles in my hair. “And the gun I lifted off that mage at Slava’s was frightening.”
Ray didn’t reply to that, but his forehead wrinkled. Like he was actually thinking about it for a c
hange. I took the opportunity to slide on the gleaming patent leather stilettos Louis-Cesare’s tailor had provided.
They matched the low-cut, black chiffon evening gown with little fluttery bits that I was wearing. They were supposed to move when I did, creating a flowing effect “like the ocean at midnight.” Or so he’d said, after Ray and I showed up pleading for help, since neither of us had the wardrobe for something like this. He’d seemed like a nice guy, so I hadn’t informed him that dark water hadn’t been real lucky for me lately.
But at least it fit. Unlike Ray’s outfit, because even vampire tailors balk at whipping up a bespoke tuxedo with all of five minutes’ notice. And there hadn’t been anyone on staff with one the right size. In desperation, the guy had cut down one of his own, but the result was…less than perfect.
Ray scowled and jerked the jacket on, which he barely managed to button.
Good thing vamps don’t need to breathe.
