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“Was it?” She had on sunglasses, too, but hers were darker than Tami’s, so I couldn’t see her eyes. But her voice sounded so hopeful that I couldn’t do anything but smile.
“She was your mother. I’m sure that having you there was a big help—”
“And am I a help to you?” she asked, grabbing onto my forearm, almost making me spill my drink. “Even a little?”
I looked at her in surprise. “Of course. The kids—”
“But that’s not—that’s a help to the court, yes. But an acolyte’s job is to help the Pythia, and I can’t—” She broke off again, and even though I could see only half her face, it suddenly looked chagrined. “And here I am, laying my problems on your shoulders as well. I’m making things worse!”
“You’re not making things worse,” I told her. “You never—”
And then somebody started yelling.
“I’m not looking! I’m not looking! Don’t freaking hex me, all right? I’m blind—I’m totally, completely blind!”
“That better not be that flimsy-ass scarf you were trying to cheat with last night,” Tami said—to Fred, since that was his voice. Like it was his curses after a bump, which sounded like somebody running headfirst into a bedpost.
I couldn’t see him, since Rhea and I had ended up behind a potted palm. But when I looked around, there he was, blindfolded and clutching his forehead. “Damn it, are you convinced now?” he demanded.
“Twenty bucks,” Tami said, and Fred’s scowl grew worse.
“Don’t give me that! There’s no kids in here!”
“But some of us have delicate sensibilities,” Vi said, prompting him to laugh even while still wincing.
“You’re about as sensitive as Marco,” he told her, or rather the bed, because he was still facing the wrong way. He course-corrected, hands out in front of him this time, although there was nothing to run into. “Speaking of which, I need to talk to Cassie.”
“She’s not here,” Saffy said, licking salt off the rim of her glass and grinning at me. “She took the afternoon off.”
“Well, shit,” Fred said. “That’s great. That’s just perfect!”
“Looks like you’re gonna have to deal with whatever it is yourself,” Tami agreed, putting a hand on my arm when I started forward.
“I can’t deal with it myself, and he’s already packing! The only person who can maybe do anything is Cassie, and if he’s gone by the time she gets back—”
“Packing?” I said. “Who’s packing?”
“Cassie?” Fred’s head came up. “That you?”
“Can’t you tell?” Tami asked. “I thought you guys were like bloodhounds.”
; “That’s only some of us, and it was never my gift. All I can smell is coconut oil and booze and—hey, are those margaritas?”
“Concentrate,” I said, throwing the nudists a couple of towels and going to take the blindfold off Fred.
“Thanks,” he said, blinking. “The call just came through. I said he was packing, but it’s more like trashing his room. The guys are downstairs with him, but I came up here because—look, I know things aren’t great between you and Mircea right now, but you’re still Pythia, so I thought maybe—”
“Fred, what are you saying?”
“Sorry. I’m just kinda emotional. It’s weird, you know? None of us were exactly thrilled to get this assignment, but now we’re almost like a family. And to just lose somebody—”
“Fred! Lose who?”
He took a breath. “Marco. He’s been recalled, like Paulie and the others. We were told that Mircea needs him for the war and we’re not getting him back.”
“What?”
