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It took a second for me to recognize the voice, because it held a surprising note of command. And because it was coming from the little guy squatting under the toiletry shelf, since he’d hit his head if he stood up. Fred scowled at Rico, and to my further surprise, Rico let me go and moved off a pace, giving me room to turn around and glare at him.
He didn’t look too repentant, though, maybe because he wasn’t exactly practiced with the expression. I doubted many women stayed mad at him for long, with his dark curls and his stubbly jaw and the six-pack visible under his rapidly dampening shirt. But it wouldn’t have helped him with me—after dealing with Mircea for three months, it took more than a few muscles to fog my brain.
“And we’re not calling Augustine because . . . ?” I demanded again.
“We can’t,” Jules said, going back into panic mode. “If we do the master is sure to find out!”
“So? It’s not like he’s going to assault Augustine—”
“Who cares about Augustine? I’m worried about me!”
I struggled back around to see what looked like genuine panic in those blue eyes. “Mircea doesn’t go around assaulting his vampires, either,” I pointed out. He didn’t have to. Most of them acted like he was the second coming already.
“It’s not so much assault that’s the problem,” Fred said, apparently in Zen mode, despite getting deluged by a waterfall from off the shelf.
“What, then?”
The three exchanged glances. At least, I guessed they did. I couldn’t see Rico anymore, but Fred looked behind me and then at Jules. “I’m gonna tell her,” he warned.
Nobody said anything.
“Tell me what?” I demanded.
“It’s like . . .” Fred thought for a minute. “You know how the Brits used to send convicts to Australia?” he finally said.
I stared at him through the streams of muddy water cascading off my dirty bangs. “What?”
“You know, in the bad old days. When they needed to dump some troublemakers who hadn’t done enough to hang but weren’t good enough to keep around? How they’d load ’em up on ships and send ’em off to Oz?”
“No!”
“Australia is a bad example,” Rico protes
ted. “People died there. And before that there were hardship and pain and suffering—”
Fred raised an eyebrow. “And?”
Rico thought for a second. “Good point.”
I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. And then opened them to glare at Fred. “Why are you telling me this?”
Gray eyes met mine with a hint of compassion. “Because you’re Australia?”
I wanted to bang my head on the tiles, but I couldn’t reach them. So I just stood there for a minute, wondering how much trouble I’d be in with Mircea if I killed three of his guys. If I was getting what they were saying, not all that much.
Rico huffed out a laugh. “I wish I could see her face.”
“No,” Fred told him. “You don’t. But we don’t have time for diplomacy.”
“Just as well,” Rico said, somehow managing to light a cigarette. “We all suck at it.”
“So you’re saying you screwed up and Mircea punished you by sending you to me?” I summarized.
“See?” Rico said. “I keep telling everyone she isn’t really a dumb blonde.”
I turned around, elbowing Jules in the gut in the process, and grabbed the cigarette out of Rico’s mouth. And dropped it onto the soggy tiles, where it went out with a little hiss. “That was a compliment,” he protested.
“The point is, we can’t screw up again,” Fred said quickly. “Or . . . well, I don’t know what might happen. But I think it’s safe to say that none of us wants to find out. But you know how Augustine is. The guy’s touchy even on a good day—”
