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“In 1769, yes. But a century earlier, he was not there. He was held and tortured for many years at Carcassonne.” He said the name as if it was an invective, which to him it probably was. “Do you know the Pythia’s alternate title, Cassie?” I numbly shook my head. “She is called the Guardian of Time. You are my best chance, my only chance. But if the Pythia dies and you lose your borrowed power because you were not yet a fit vessel to hold it, I will lose the only window on time I have ever found.”
Things clarified. “The Consul promised you a chance to help Radu. That is your payment for having me solve their little problem.”
He inclined his head. “She agreed to allow me to make up the third of our group. I will be going with you when next you shift. While you and Tomas stop the attempt on Louis-César, I will rescue my brother.” Mircea’s eyes were somber but utterly serious. I knew in that minute that, while he might not force me himself, he would stand aside and watch someone else do it. He might not like it, but he would like even less leaving Radu to his fate. I wanted to hate him for it, but I couldn’t. It was part pity—I couldn’t imagine what it had been like, caring for someone for hundreds of years who was dangerously insane, watching him torment himself day after day and being able to do absolutely nothing about it. But it was more that: despite having every reason to do so, Mircea had not lied. He was right; I could forgive almost anything but that.
“How do you know we’re even going back there again?” If he was going to be honest with me, the least I could do was to return the favor. “I don’t have the same apprehension or fear or whatever it was around Louis-César anymore. And when he carried me away from Dante’s, nothing happened. For all I know the power has already passed, or it might choose to take me somewhere else.”
“We believe that Rasputin will try for him that night, the one you have visited twice now, because it was then that Louis-César was changed. You did not know that my brother made him, did you?”
“I thought Tomas said he was cursed.”
Mircea shook his head. “I do not know where he heard that, Cassie. Perhaps he believes it because Louis-César did not know what it was to have a master. Like me, he had to make his own way with little guidance. Because my brother was imprisoned, Louis-César’s birth was not recorded until long after the fact. By the time any other master knew of his existence and might have tried to claim him, he was too powerful. Radu bit him for the first time the night you were there, after the jailers left them alone together in an attempt to terrorize our Frenchman. Radu called him back the two nights afterwards until he changed. Perhaps he was trying to gain a servant who could release him.”
“So why didn’t he?”
Mircea looked at me with some surprise. “You do not know who Louis-César was?”
I shook my head, and he smiled slightly. “I will leave him to tell you the story. Suffice it to say, he was not free to move about for a long time, and by the time he was, Radu had been moved and he could not find him. In any case, all Rasputin would have to do to eliminate our Louis-César is to stake him before the third bite; kill him when he is yet human and helpless and he will never have to fight him.”
“He could kill him in his cradle even easier, or when he was a kid. You don’t know it’ll be then.”
Mircea shook his head emphatically. “We believe that your gift has been showing you where the problem lies, where someone is attempting to alter the time line. Why else would you keep going back there? In any case, the records on Louis-César’s early life are scant. The first time Rasputin can be sure where to find him is when he changed. It is on record, along with the peculiar circumstances of his masterlessness. He won’t take a chance on something so important. He will try for him where he knows he will be. I know where they held Radu, Cassie. It will be a matter of a few moments to free him.”
“And can you tell me the exact date his mind gave way? A city surrounds that castle, Mircea. I won’t help you turn a mad killer loose on them.”
Mircea spoke quickly. “I have spoken with Louis-César. Radu was quite sane when he changed him. You can help me save him, dulceata. Torture for others ended soon enough with death or, rarely, exoneration. But not for him. His torturers would never free him because they did not believe he could ever be redeemed, but they would not kill him, since his suffering made such a good lesson for those they wished to frighten.” The emotion in his eyes was hard to witness; desperation was too mild to describe it. “There is no way out for him! You have seen that place. Can you leave him there, knowing what his fate will be? Can you trade his life for your virtue?”
It wasn’t my virtue I worried about; it was my freedom. But I knew better than to try to strike a bargain over that. There was no way the Consul wouldn’t at least attempt to hold on to me. If I became Pythia, perhaps I’d be able to avoid her manipulation and that of the two circles; maybe I could even help my father. It was a hell of a long shot, but it was the best one I had. I took a deep breath and pushed away from the window, letting the robe slip from my hands as I did so.
Mircea watched me walk to him, hope dawning in his eyes. I put a hand on his shoulder, in the midst of the decadent, raw silk of his hair, and ran the other lightly down the curve of his face. “You answered my question. Don’t you want your reward?”
He caught me to him and began speaking softly against my lips, words of thanks and passion intermingled. Tears fell onto my neck and breasts as he kissed, licked and nibbled his way across my upper body. He lay me back carefully onto the bed and kissed his way back to the center of that building pressure that had returned with a vengeance. Soon he had me almost crying for something larger than his tongue to ease the ache. As if reading my mind, Mircea slid a finger down to my throbbing center and eased it inside. It felt wonderful, but it wasn’t nearly enough.
“Mircea!” He didn’t answer, but two fingers slid inside me and I bore down on them, desperate for more of him. They eased the almost-pain and increased the pleasure until I was making a high, moaning sound and riding his hand like I so badly wanted to ride his body. The pressure inside me mounted until I thought I would faint from the delicious, burning ache of it. Then it broke and all I could concentrate on was that wonderful, breathtaking sensation that swept through me over and over. I heard myself cry out his name, then the world erupted in a flash of color and a sound like a rushing wind filled my head.
A second later, I realized it hadn’t been the wind. “Um, Cassie? Look, I know this isn’t a real good time and all…” I was so drunk on the afterglow that it took me a minute to recognize Billy Joe’s voice.
“Billy. You have exactly one second to get out.” Mircea held me while I finished my orgasm, speaking softly in Romanian. I was really going to have to break him of that.
“I would, honest, but we need to talk. Something’s happening. Something bad.” I groaned and pushed him out of my head. He appeared, hovering over Mircea’s naked shoulder.
Mircea had rolled on top of me, supporting himself with his arms, and he carefully positioned himself. “I have prepared you as well as I can, Cassie,” he told me in a rough, slightly breathless voice, “but this may hurt slightly. I am considered somewhat…larger than usual, but I will be careful.” I wanted to scream at him to get on with it—my body wanted him inside and it didn’t care if it hurt.
Billy glanced at Mircea’s sweat-streaked face and rolled his eyes. “Please. You shoulda seen me in my prime. The countess said I had the biggest…”
“Billy!”
“…talent she’d ever seen. Anyway, he don’t look that impressive to me,” he said huffily.
“Shut up and get out!”
Billy ignored me and, before I could stop him, blew a freezing wind over Mircea. “Especially not now.”
Mircea yelped and looked around in alarm, while I glared at Billy. “Have you lost your mind?”
For an answer, Billy blasted Mircea again. The cold didn’t seem that bad to me, but then, I never feel ghosts the same way as everyone else. Mircea looked like he’d been hit with a blizzard; goose bumps covered his flesh, his damp hair actually had ice crystals in it and the result on our activities was the same as a cold shower.
Before I could explain to Billy exactly how much trouble he was in, Rafe’s excited tones came from the doorway. “Master! I am sorry to disturb, but Rasputin is coming! He’s almost here now!” Rafe had paused in the door and was staring hard at the floor, fairly vibrating in alarm. Tomas entered right behind him. I quickly pulled the quilt up, but he didn’t so much as glance at me.
