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“Yeah. That’s the one.”
“Marco didn’t give them to me.” Or even mention them—or Pritkin or the meeting. I was beginning to think that he was right. We had a communication problem.
Billy shrugged. “Mircea must have ordered him not to.”
I opened my mouth to say that Mircea wouldn’t do that but shut it again before the words got out. Who was I kidding? Mircea totally would.
“The Senate likes the idea of a Pythia under their control,” I said, working it out. “And if the Circle and I make up—”
“You might get a little too cozy,” Billy finished.
“So Mircea was delegated to get me out of the way before the meeting.” I felt my face flush, remembering that scene in front of the mirror. So I was too precious to lose, huh? Too important to him?
“Uh, Cass?” Billy was looking at me a little funny. “The meeting is at Dante’s—Pritkin insisted. Something about neutral ground. Anyway, we got less than an hour before the mages show up.”
I started to stand, only to be jerked back down again. “I’m kind of chained to a sofa,” I pointed out.
Billy grinned. “Bet Pritkin could get you loose.”
I sighed. Yeah, but I’d never live it down. “He’s in his room?” I asked resignedly.
“I think you’ll fit,” Billy said gleefully. “If we push.”
I sighed. Never. And shifted.
Like me, Pritkin had recently gotten an upgrade in accommodations. They were roomier than the old version, but to be on the safe side, I landed in the corridor outside. And my large leather accessory landed on top of Marco’s friend. He was a vampire and the sofa was built to be lightweight for air travel, so it didn’t hurt him. It didn’t make him too happy, though.
“Marco said you might show up,” he said, lifting it off and dumping it to the side. “He also said you wasn’t to be allowed to talk to the mage.”
My eyes narrowed. “I’ll talk to whomever I damn well please,” I told him, trying to drag the sofa around so I could knock on the door.
He put a foot on the nearest couch cushion and took out a cell phone. “She’s back,” he told it while I pulled and tugged and got nowhere. “Marco says I’m to take you upstairs,” I was informed.
“You and what army?” I grunted. “And get your foot off my sofa.”
The vamp regarded my leather appendage for a second and then looked toward the elevator. The thought process didn’t appear to be swift, but he did eventually arrive at the right conclusion—it wasn’t going to fit. “I’ll have to break it in two,” he said, grabbing the other end. “Sorry, but I’m sure the master will buy you another one.”
“It’s Mircea’s,” I said quickly. “It’s his sofa. And he’s really, really attached to it.”
The vamp looked suspicious. “To a sofa?”
“It’s a designer original, hand-dyed to coordinate with the rest of the furniture on his BBJ. You mess it up, and they’ll never get another one to match. It’ll stand out like a sore thumb. It’ll be embarrassing.”
We stood staring at each other for a long minute, and the vamp blinked first. “I don’t want to embarrass the master,” he said slowly, reaching for his cell phone. But he’d forgotten
to put his foot back on the couch, so I gave a mighty heave and slid over within arm’s length of the door.
“Hey!” He was there in a heartbeat, with his hand on my arm. So I kicked the door instead of knocking. “You gotta go back upstairs. Marco said so!”
“Tell Marco to go to hell!”
“Trust me, I’m already there,” Marco informed me from the stairwell.
Damn it! I tried to kick the door again, but Marco grabbed the end of the sofa and dragged me back out of reach. “You’re coming with us. Deal with it,” he told me.
An elderly couple came out of the next room while we were standing there glaring at each other. The man was wearing a blue polo shirt and a pair of plaid shorts that started around his armpits and just brushed his knobby knees. The woman had on a Chippendales souvenir tee, a pair of bright red jogging shorts and matching Keds. They both looked about ninety.
“You’re gonna have to move your couch,” the old man said. “The missus and I gotta get to the elevator.”
