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I went back to scanning the crowd of vamps, who were muttering among themselves but showing no signs of dispersing. In fact, more were drifting over every minute from around the ballroom, as people realized where the entertainment was currently to be found. And the more who crowded in on us, the harder it was to predict where Myra would strike from next.
Fear crept up my spine. All I could see was that ring of faces, avidly waiting to see someone bleed, something die. A male vamp, wearing a vivid green burnoose, fell onto the floor. He was up in an instant, looking around with a snarl, his fangs very white against his dark skin. Then I saw movement toward the center of the circle and caught a look of hatred on Augusta’s face, her blue eyes narrowed to icy chips. The young man had been a diversion.
I clutched Mircea’s arm and pointed. “Not him! She’s in Augusta!”
A murmur went through the crowd—everyone knew something was wrong, but no one was likely to interfere. This was Europe, and both Mircea and Augusta were members of the North American Senate. If they wanted to kill each other, that was their affair. No one would lift a finger to hinder or to help.
“You can’t kill her,” I told him in a rush. “Just . . . disable her, or something.” Enough to force Myra to come out and face me. Augusta grabbed up a huge iron candleholder the size of a coat rack that had been lighting the area. She hefted it like it was made of paper, and I realized a flaw in my plan. If she was a Senate member, she had to be a first-level master.
Just like Mircea.
Augusta came at us, brandishing the flaming candlestick, and Mircea swung me out of the way. She barreled past us but turned in a flash and was back for more, slashing with the candleholder like it was an extra-long sword. Sparks flew everywhere and all hell broke loose in the crowd. Vampires are mortally afraid of fire, and the way she was slinging it around, it could hit anyone. There was a mad rush to the door.
Augusta took another swing, Mircea dodged and a dark figure broke away from the crowd, dashing at him with an outthrust hand. Mircea hadn’t seen him, but he felt it when the stake slammed into his side. I screamed, and Dmitri looked up for an instant, smirking; then the expression froze on his face. I saw a blade coming out of his chest in the perfect position to have sliced through his heart, and the hilt was in Mircea’s hand. Dmitri gave it a disbelieving look and collapsed, his body spasming violently.
Mircea dropped to one knee, a hand to his side, and I knew it was bad. Mircea’s blade was metal—meaning that Dmitri might eventually heal. But the stake Mircea pulled out of his side was wood. When I saw it, my world went gray. I tried telling myself that even if it had hit his heart, that alone wouldn’t kill a first-level master. But that wasn’t much comfort with Augusta around to finish the job.
She had stopped her attack, surprise on her features when Mircea went down. But she recovered almost instantly, running forward to rip the bloody blade out of Dmitri’s chest. She looked at me and laughed. “You aren’t even going to make this a challenge, are you?”
She turned back to Mircea and I didn’t even hesitate. Killing Augusta would dramatically alter time, but so would letting Mircea die. I’d never been as scared as I was watching the blood pour from Mircea’s side and having no power to stop it. I would not watch his head taken, too.
My knives leapt out of the bracelet and flew at Augusta. With vampire agility, she was able to get the candlestick up in time to shield herself, but in the process she knocked a candle free. It landed on her shoulder before bouncing to the floor, and a spark caught on the bodice of her dress. It burst into a tiny flame, smaller than that of a match. A human would have snuffed it out between her fingers with no concern, but Augusta started screaming and thrashing around like a drowning victim going down for the last time.
Apparently, the terror of fire was enough to override Myra’s control, because Augusta promptly forgot all about the attack. Mircea tried to get her to hold still so he could smother the flames with his handkerchief, but she wouldn’t listen. She slipped on a patch of Jack’s blood and ended up on her elegant backside, and I had to jump out of the way to keep from having her roll right into me.
“Augusta! Stay still!” Mircea bellowed, but Augusta wasn’t listening. Instead of putting out the flame, all her rolling around had caused more oxygen to get to it, and a finger of fire leapt to one of the long curls that framed her face. Her screams became more like shrieks, and she whipped off the fashionable curls, sending them flying. That explained why her head hadn’t gone up like a gasoline fire— half of the golden coiffure was fake and probably made of human hair.
Myra rose out of her, abandoning ship now that she could no longer control it. I waved my arms and screamed frantically at my knives, which had zeroed in on the terrified Augusta. “No—not her! Get Myra!” They either didn’t hear me or were having too much fun to obey.
The spirit creature was more single-minded. It dove through Myra, as insubstantial as a breath of wind, but she staggered backwards, clawing at her chest and screaming. After a stunned second, I realized that she’d been given the spiritual equivalent of a mugging. The spirit emerged from her back, so flush with stolen power that it was blinding silver, looking at it like staring into a searchlight.
I blinked, and when I looked again, it had faded out. Myra dropped to her knees, almost transparent, the energy that should have allowed her to remain here for hours gone. She turned a furious blue glare on me. “Doesn’t matter. You can’t guard him all the time.”
She shifted out just as Augusta scrambled to her feet and careened into Mircea, screaming and clawing like she blamed him for the danger. I tossed him the cloak, and he wrapped it around her to smother the flames, just as I felt the tug of my power.
“Tell me, little witch,” he gasped, holding the struggling vampire with obvious difficulty. “What happens when you are trying to cause trouble?”
A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over me, and I felt myself falling. I crashed headfirst into Mac’s cot, where Billy Joe had been playing a game of solitaire, scattering his cards everywhere. “I fold,” I said weakly, and passed out.
Chapter 8
I hugged porcelain in the bathroom for the next half hour. Once the power receded, I was wiped out and had a headache so severe I was nauseous. With my usual luck, Mac decided to check on me right after I returned and found me green and shaking. He left to round up a snack, apparently on the assumption that my problem was low blood sugar. If only.
Billy moved over so I could stretch out on the cot without having to lie through part of his body. “Did you see Casanova?” I croaked. I had commandeered one of Mac’s beers to help my dry throat, and almost succeeded in making myself sick again when the alcohol hit my stomach. I hastily put it down.
“Yeah, but Chavez is AWOL. Maybe he’s lying low until the mages vacate Dante’s, I don’t know. But Casanova said he’d lock up the stuff whenever he gets there.” I nodded. It was as good as I could have hoped for. If Chavez had been smart enough to dodge the invasion of his workplace, the items he was carrying should be safe.
“Are you gonna do it?” Billy asked, shuffling the deck of cards. He never lifts things unless forced or showing off, but I was too sick to be impressed.
“Do what?” I lay back on the cot, trying to convince my stomach that there was nothing left to throw up. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I’d shifted in time before and never felt like this when I returned.
“Fix the ward.”
I blinked blearily at him. I’d almost forgotten about that. My pentagram would have come in really handy with Dmitri, and it had proved capable of traveling through time with me before. Unfortunately, I couldn’t risk fixing it. “Yeah, and I’d owe the power a favor, too.”
“Seems like it owes you a couple, if you ask me. You’ve been running its errands. It’s not like you wanted to go anywhere. ”
“But I don’t know if it looks at things like that.”
