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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, dulceata? 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, dulceata? 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, dulceata. 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?”
