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“Okay. Then I was imagining you at the coronation? You weren’t there?”
“No. I mean—I was there. I saw what you—”
“We’re not talking about me. Why were you there?”
“To—to tell you about the acolytes. I’d had a vision—at least I think I did; I don’t have visions—”
“But you saw something that time,” I prompted.
She nodded.
“And the acolytes noticed and asked you about it. And you realized that they were happy at the thought of the god of war returning and kicking all our butts.”
She nodded some more. She was starting to remind me of a Pythian bobblehead.
“So you figured they’d joined the other side. And since Agnes was dead, you managed to get invited along to the big party for her successor so you could do what? Eat appetizers?”
“No! To warn you! To tell you what I’d seen—”
“So . . . to assist and advise me?”
She had been about to say something, but at that she abruptly shut her mouth. And then opened it again after a minute. “No.”
“No?”
“I wouldn’t dream of advising the Pythia,” she said primly, and I couldn’t help it. I lay back on the bed and laughed again.
God, I was losing it.
“My Lady—”
“Stop it.” I told her when her concerned face appeared above mine.
“Stop . . . ?”
“Stop calling me that. My name is—”
“Lady Herophile.”
“Bullshit.” I decided to borrow Fred’s word.
“What?” Rhea blinked. I guessed Pythias didn’t swear, either, although I was pretty sure I’d heard Agnes on more than one occasion. . . .
“That was the title Apollo gave me, when he was trying to make me into his stooge,” I told her. “I chose Lady Cassandra—”
“I’m sorry! No one told—”
“—but I don’t like that, either. Call me Cassie.”
She just looked at me. But there was suddenly a stubborn tilt to her jaw that hadn’t been there a moment ago. But which had been in full evidence when she’d been putting Fred in his place.
“You’re not going to call me Cassie, are you?” I asked.
“I will call you whatever you like, of course, Lady,” she said, and then seemed offended when I laughed at her again.
“Okay, look. We need to get a few things straight,” I told her. “One. The vampires around here aren’t going to eat you—or the kids. When they’re not here babysitting me, they have courts of their own, with plenty of followers more than happy to provide them with whatever sustenance they need. In fact, Mircea—that’s their master; he’s . . . kind of the big boss, you know? Over the whole clan?”
She nodded.
