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I frowned. “So you’re saying what? That Varus was cleaning house? Attacking us last night and then going after—”
“That was the initial theory, yes. It was thought that he was taking advantage of the Senate’s preoccupation with the war to set himself up as the undisputed leader of the smuggling world. And that the…calling cards…he shoved into the portal system were his way of announcing that fact.”
My frown grew. “How does that work? Even if the Senate ignored a slap in the face like last night—”
“That was not a slap. It was a direct challenge, and it will be answered!”
“But that’s the point. Did he thin
k you would just let him get away with—”
“We don’t know what he was thinking,” Marlowe said, sweetly vicious. “We intended to ask him, but somehow, I do not think he will be answering many questions now!”
No, I guessed not. I also guessed that I knew what Olga had wanted to talk to me about earlier. Probably wondering who the dead body was that I’d tossed into the portal.
“So what’s the theory?” I asked. “That there’s a new game in town? Or that one of his subordinates—”
Marlowe’s eyes flashed. “Thanks to you, we don’t have a theory!”
I started to point out that Varus’s death was hardly my fault, but I didn’t. Because Marlowe had thrown out a hand as if to punctuate his sentence, and something hit the wall like a shot. I jumped and Claire yelped, and then we both watched a two-inch crack run up and down, floor to ceiling, from an impact point the size of a cannonball made by absolutely nothing because nothing was there.
I stared at it blankly. The cellar had been built back when people took that shit seriously, and the walls were at least two feet thick. I knew that because that’s how far the impression into the bricks went.
Allllll righty then.
My mouth closed with a little pop. My jaw hurt like a bitch, anyway, and hey, I could ask questions later. But apparently someone else wasn’t feeling quite as intimidated.
“I want to know what you’re going to do about those men who attacked Dory!” Claire said hotly.
“They weren’t men,” Marlowe corrected, crossing his arms. Probably so he wouldn’t finish demolishing the house.
“Vampires, then!”
“Senior masters.”
“And that means what?”
“That means you have your answer.”
“Like hell I do!” she said, leaving the stairs to get in his face.
“Um, Claire…” I said, only to be completely ignored.
“You have witnesses!”
I started to get up, because Marlowe was in a scary mood. But to my surprise, his eyes softened slightly at the sight of the infuriated redhead invading his personal space, and his shoulders unclenched a trifle. “Your loyalty to your friend does you credit,” he told her shortly. “But it does not alter the facts.”
“Which are?”
“That my only witnesses are a human who left early and a vampire already under interdict for a variety of crimes. And that is hardly—”
“You have Dory!”
“A dhampir has no standing under the law. She is neither vampire nor human nor mage nor any other recognized creature—”
“You’re saying no one would believe her?” Claire demanded incredulously.
“I’m saying she would never be allowed to testify. Under vampire law, she isn’t a person—”
