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“To take you seriously. To listen to you. To be guided by what you tell them. And that translates into power, don’t it?”
“It translates into doing my job.”
Marco looked at me for a moment and started to say something, and then he just shook his head. “I thought I’d never meet somebody as bullheaded as the master,” he told me. “But what do you know.”
“I’m not trying to be stubborn.”
“I know. It’s like with Mircea; you don’t got to try. It comes naturally.”
I sighed. “I guess I need to talk to him.”
I don’t know what my expression looked like, but Marco laughed. “Yeah, but you get a reprieve. He said he’ll call you tonight, late. He’s got a thing all day.”
“What kind of a thing?”
He shrugged. “Senate stuff, I guess. You’ll have to ask him.”
“What about Jonas?” I might as well get one awkward conversation out of the way.
“He called a while ago, while you were asleep. Said—Hang on.” Marco fished a notebook out of his back pocket and flipped it open. “Said he thought he might know what attacked you last night. He’s not sure, but thinks they could be something called the Spartoi.”
“Spartans?”
“No—that’s what I thought, too, but he spelled it for me. And it’s Spartoi. There’s supposed to be five of them, sons of Ares and some dragon—”
I looked up from shutting off the water. “Dragon?”
“Yeah, one of the Fey. They can shape-shift, you know?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly. And that would explain why the damn dragon had been so hard to kill. I’d seen Pritkin and a friend of his, Mac, take on one before, and it hadn’t been anything like that. But then, that other dragon hadn’t been a half god, either.
“Anything else?” I demanded. “Like how we’re supposed to fight these things?”
“I think the idea is not to,” Marco said drily. “He said for you to stay in the hotel today. He’s tripled the guards, so nothing should get in here. He needs to do some more research, but he’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Marco flipped over a page in his notebook, but must not have found anything, because he flipped back. “And that’s it.”
I kind of thought that was enough. Apparently, Marco did, too, because he was looking a little worried, like he was afraid I was about to break down on him again. I wasn’t. I was too pissed off. It looked like the other side didn’t worry about little things like playing fair. One not-so-great clairvoyant against five freaking demigods seemed a little onesided to me. No wonder it had almost gotten Pritkin killed!
“You okay?” Marco asked.
“Yeah.” I forced a smile, because none of this was his fault. “I was just thinking—I have all day with nobody bitching at me.”
He grinned. “Well, I can, if it’ll make you feel better.”
“You just did!”
“Naw, that wasn’t bitching. You should hear me when I get going.”
“I’m afraid.”
“Hold that thought.” Marco ruffled my hair and left. I stripped and got in the tub, sinking down in the water up to my chin.
It felt good. It felt better than good, and not just because of my sore muscles. Three days ago, something had tried to drown me in this very tub, and now I was back, relaxing in it. I had a stinky charm around my neck and a vampire probably listening at the door, but still. That was progress.
My feet floated to the top of the water and I stared at my poor, chipped toenail polish. I thought about redoing it. I thought about making Augustine’s life miserable. I thought about going to the salon and seeing if any of the guys could do something about my hair.
But none of that had much appeal. It was hard to concentrate on my to-do list with the sword of Damocles hanging over my head. It felt like I was just marking time, waiting for the next attack. And that was getting really old.
I was sick and tired of playing defense. But to play offense, I needed some help, and I didn’t know where to get it. Or, rather, I did, I just didn’t know how.
