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And saw it get picked up by a mage’s spell and thrown at another part of the crowd.
Only they said it wasn’t a mage. They said it was a vampire—demon-possessed and magic-wielding. They said that he and the others would soon be able to do as much or more.
They could go fuck themselves.
He wasn’t that stupid—vampires didn’t use magic; everybody knew that! But even if it were true, he didn’t care! Like he didn’t care about the power boost they’d promised from the union, which might push him toward master status.
Great. So he could get a court of his own, and a bunch of scheming followers just waiting to stake him in the back and take over. No! He didn’t want any of it! He wanted to go home, back to his beautiful, messy practice room, with sheaves of old sheet music going golden from age and polished instruments smelling of beeswax and lemon oil, and the scent of flowers drifting in from the garden.
He didn’t want to be here, scrabbling about in the mud with a bunch of savages!
We’re supposed to be above such things, he thought angrily. He was supposed to be. Spend a century becoming an expert musician, a talent to rival Mozart himself, and what did it buy you? A possession and a trip to Faerie, where some damned fey could . . . cut your . . . head off . . .
It happened so fast that he never even felt it. One second, he was throwing open the flap to his friend’s tent, and the next the world was skewing wildly around him. He didn’t know what had happened until his vision stopped spinning and his cheek came to rest on some wet grass, just in time to see—
“No!” he screamed—we screamed—and scrambled back—
Into Mircea, who grabbed us—me—us—whoever the hell! I didn’t know anymore! And Billy was yelling and Mircea was talking and people were staring, and my damned skirt had a huge blood splatter on it from where I’d dropped the head when I—
“Aughhh!” I screamed again, seeing the vamp’s now headless body being forced to its knees, before a stake descended and—
“No!” I shrieked, grabbing my breast, trying to run. But I’d lost a shoe and somebody’s arms were around me. I fought, but couldn’t go anywhere, and then Billy was hovering in front of me. Ghostly hands cupped my cheeks, ghostly coolness suffused me, soothing, calming, quiet. Another scream died in my throat.
“It’s okay. Cas—it’s okay. You’re out now, we’re both out. Are you hearing me?”
I nodded, but didn’t look at him. I was too busy looking at the head, still rotating slightly on the floor where I’d dropped it. Thankfully when it stopped, it was facing the other way. I didn’t know what I’d have done if it hadn’t. Coming out of there had been—
I hadn’t liked coming out of there.
Better than staying in, I thought, or maybe that was somebody else. I’d turned my head into Mircea’s chest, but the weird, almost foreign thought made me look up at Caedmon. But he was looking as concerned as the rest; guess he’d lost his sense of humor.
So had I.
“’m out,” I said thickly, and I didn’t mean just of the guy’s head. I meant this whole thing! But no way could I shift like this, with my brain feeling strange, almost sticky. Like parts of that other mind had clung to it when we pulled away. God, that had been horrible, horrible! And fuck this!
I tried to get up, but the lost shoe and a foot smeared with blood prevented it.
“Shh, take a moment,” Mircea murmured.
I didn’t want a moment. I wanted to get out of here! But maybe I need it, I thought, feeling sick.
“What did you see?” the consul asked, squatting in front of me, and somehow making the movement elegant despite wearing a dress made out of live snakes.
I didn’t immediately answer, and the bright yellow nails raised, as if she planned to grasp my chin. But something in my face stopped her. “Don’t,” I forced out. I wasn’t going to be responsible for what I did if she touched me.
She didn’t.
A moment later, somebody else was crouching there.
“I’m sorry. Was it so bad?” the old soldier asked gruffly.
I just stared at him.
“Take a moment, lass,” he said, and a callused old hand covered mine.
I took a moment. I’d had to leave my body in order to drift through the dead vamp’s, and it felt like I’d been away a little too long. Which was any time at all, because no soul in residence = dying! And while necromancers’ souls are a little more flexible than most, that universal law doesn’t change.
“Water,” I said hoarsely.
