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“What about him?” Mircea asked softly.
“He agreed to give the Senate the location of the portal system in return for immunity,” I said, trying to focus on slippery-soft memories that slid out of reach every time I grabbed for one.
“But that did not occur.”
“No. Because he was kidnapped last night.”
“Yes!” Radu looked smugly at Marlowe. “Yes, he was. And naturally, as soon as we found out, we put together a task force to go after him. But our enemies had expected that and laid a trail full of red herrings in all directions, requiring us to field numerous teams. Like the one you were on.”
“I was on a team?” I asked, because I usually work alone. And because I didn’t recall that at all.
Radu nodded. “You know how it is these days. No one is allowed to go anywhere alone, particularly not for something like this. And Lawrence was assigned to you.”
“Then why not ask him what happened?” I asked, afraid that I already knew the answer.
“Because he’s dead,” Marlowe said savagely. “They’re all dead. Eleven fucking senior masters were sent out and exactly none came back. We found them hacked to pieces, those we got to before the sun took care of them. Butchered—every single one.” Brown eyes bored into mine. “Everyone except you.”
Chapter Six
I just sat there, stunned, while Claire lit into the chief spy. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything,” Marlowe told her, his eyes never leaving mine. “I am stating it outright. Eleven masters and one dhampir went out, and only the dhampir returned. And I want to know why.”
“You know why.” The voice was Louis-Cesare’s, from the doorway. I didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, but apparently it had been long enough, judging by his expression.
“No, I do not!” Marlowe said, turning on him. “I know how she got out of that hellhole. I don’t know how she got in, or why. They kill Lawrence, someone with knowledge of the inner workings of my family, of the intelligence department, of the Senate itself, yet leave a dhampir alive?”
Angry dark eyes swerved back to mine, but I didn’t respond because I was trying to comprehend that ridiculous number. “Eleven?” I repeated, certain I’d heard wrong.
“Kit is exaggerating,” Mircea told me. “But only slightly. Most were found as he said, although two teams remain missing. But they did not report in and no one can contact them, including their former masters.”
And that wasn’t good. Mental communication within a family was a given, even after a Child reached a high enough status to be emancipated from his master’s control. Their makers should have been able to reach them—if there was anything left to reach.
“By ‘senior masters’ you mean what?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it.
“None under second level. Most were first.”
I just stared. “No.”
“I didn’t believe it either,” Radu said quietly. “When they told me. It just seemed…” He trailed off with a flutter of his hand, because he didn’t have adequate words for it.
Unfortunately, someone else did.
“Seems what?” Claire asked, looking around, obviously confused. “It’s a tragedy, yes, but we’re only talking about eleven—”
Marlowe made a retching sound, like someone had just kicked him in the stomach, probably because he couldn’t attack her.
“Claire,” I said. Provoking him right now was not a good idea. Not that I thought she would deliberately do that—she was normally far more sensitive to others’ feelings than I was. But Marlowe was likely to take it that way. If brown eyes could burn, his were doing it.
But Claire either didn’t notice or didn’t understand. “But eleven men—”
“Not men,” I told her, as Radu moved to Marlowe’s side. “Senior masters.”
“And that makes a difference?”
“I…Yes,” I said helplessly, because trying to explain would take too long and I wanted to get back to the point.
But that clearly wasn’t happening.
