Chapter
15
I didn’t answer,
momentarily stunned at the immense wave of relief that swept
through me at hearing that voice alive and well. I controlled my
features, waiting for the geis to kick
in, but nothing happened. There was a warm rush of pleasure, a
happy frisson humming along my skin from just being near him, but
nothing extreme. I’d forgotten—in this era, the horrid thing was
still brand spanking new. It hadn’t had time to grow teeth
yet.
But it would. Big
ones.
I caught the box. It
looked just like mine. “What is this?”
Dark eyes met mine,
glittering wickedly. “I offer a trade.”
Stoker, crazed from
pain, suddenly scrambled out of the pit and took off up the center
aisle. Pritkin went after him, why I couldn’t imagine. Maybe so
Mircea could wipe his memory, although that seemed unnecessary.
When he’d written a confused version of everything years later, it
had sold as fiction.
“Hurry up,” I called,
and Pritkin waved an arm before disappearing through the doors to
the lobby.
Mircea smiled, and it
was one of his better efforts, despite the fact that he was covered
in blood, most of it his. “Are you not interested in pursuing your
quarrel with the young hoyden who was here earlier?”
“What?” I stared at
the box for a moment, uncomprehending. Then what he’d said sunk in.
No. No way. I’d been trying so hard to find Myra, and now she was
being dumped in my lap? Or, to be more precise, waved under my
nose? It was bizarre.
“I intended the trap
for my brother,” Mircea said. “But when I saw that he had been
captured already, I decided to employ it for other purposes. The
young . . . woman . . . made the mistake of running to the balcony
to watch the effects of her device. I found her
there.”
He put Myra’s box on
the boards, and put a hand on Dracula’s. “The Senators will be
back,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from the small black
container that imprisoned my rival. For some reason, my ears were
ringing. “They’ll just kill him anyway.”
“Kill who?” Mircea
was mildly curious. “You cannot mean my brother. Tragically, he
died in the blast.”
“They’ll smell
him.”
“Not in this.” Mircea
sounded like he knew. And it wasn’t as if they’d search him for the
box. They might risk war over Dracula himself, but over a
suspicion? I didn’t think so.
“Why do you cry?” he
asked suddenly, his hand on my cheek. His thumb wiped away a tear I
couldn’t remember shedding. As mild as the contact was, it woke up
the geis. I caught my breath, and
Mircea’s eyes widened.
I pulled away.
“Please . . . don’t.” Unlike in my own time, there was no physical
pain at withdrawal. But the emotional price was still there, and it
was high.
Mircea waited, but I
offered no explanation. To my surprise, he let it drop. “Unless I
am mistaken, you won,” was his only comment. “Victory is usually a
reason for smiles, not tears.”
“Victory came at too
high a price.” Way too high.
“They often do.”
Something moved on my arm, and I jumped. I looked down to find a
small green lizard on my forearm, quivering in fear. It stared at
me out of big black eyes for a second, then scurried off to hide
behind my elbow. Mircea laughed.
“Where did that come
from?” It was one of Mac’s; I recognized it.
“It must have hid
out, Cass,” Billy murmured. “I guess it latched on to me when I
threw the others. It looks like we saved something, after all.” Its
tail was ticklish as it scurried up my inner arm, but I let it
alone. I’d learned a long time ago; something, however small, was
better than nothing.
Pritkin slammed open
the theatre doors, dragging in Stoker’s six-foot-two frame, and I
snatched up Myra’s box. Mircea took the one containing his brother,
and I didn’t protest. For all I knew, this was how it had happened
all along. Maybe Mircea carried his brother home in secret, letting
everyone believe that the lynching had gone off as planned. In any
case, I wouldn’t have won a struggle, and Pritkin was too close to
risk it. He’d said he didn’t want Myra as Pythia—and after what
she’d just pulled, I assumed he meant it, even if he hadn’t before.
But I still didn’t trust him. There were far too many unanswered
questions about Mage Pritkin.
I shoved Myra into a
pocket of Françoise’s voluminous skirts, well out of sight. Mircea
saw, but said nothing. He went to the edge of the stage and took
Stoker’s limp body from Pritkin, hefting it out of the pit as if it
were weightless. “One thing further,” he said, after laying Stoker
on the boards. He pulled something out of his coat and slipped it
onto my foot.
“My shoe.” It shone
with all the glory a $14.99 special could hope to
achieve.
“You dropped it at
our first meeting, in your haste to leave. Something told me I
might have a chance to return it.” His eyes met mine, and the smile
edged perilously close to a grin. “That is a lovely gown, but I
must say, I preferred your other ensemble. Or lack of
it.”
I gave a wry smile
and removed the shoe. With my life, I needed combat boots, not
heels. Besides, this Cinderella had the Circle, the Senate and the
Dark Fey to deal with. She wasn’t going to be living happily ever
after anytime soon. I handed it to him, careful to avoid actual
contact. “Keep it.”
He looked at me
quizzically. “What would I do with such a thing?”
I shrugged. “You
never know.”
Mircea searched my
face for a moment, then moved as if to take my hand. I snatched it
back, and a frown line formed on his forehead. “May I assume that
we will meet again?”
I hesitated. He would
meet me, and make the mistake that would lead us to this. Whether I
would see him in my future was another story. If I didn’t break the
geis, I’d never be able to risk it, and
the thought twisted my insides into a tight knot. I was so tempted
to warn him not to lay the geis that I
had to bite my cheek to stay quiet. But as much as I hated it, the
damned thing had played a big part in getting me where I was. It
had protected me from unwanted advances as a teenager, helped
Mircea find me before Tony did as an adult, and convinced him to
let me go in the Senate chamber. If I changed that one thing, what
would my life be like? I just didn’t know.
I finally decided on
a literal interpretation. “I think that’s safe to
say.”
Mircea nodded, picked
up Stoker and bowed. He somehow made it graceful despite having a
two-hundred-fifty-pound man draped over one shoulder. “I look
forward to it, little witch.”
“I’m not a
witch.”
He smiled slightly.
“I know.” He walked offstage without another word. I gritted my
teeth and let him go.
“You do make
interesting allies,” Pritkin commented, vaulting up onstage. “How
did you persuade that creature to aid you? They are usually
extremely self-interested.” I thought he meant Mircea, and was
about to explain the extreme folly of referring to any vamp,
especially a master, by that term. He saw my expression and
elaborated. “The incubus, the one called Dream.”
My brain skidded to a
halt. “What?”
“You didn’t know what
it was?” Pritkin asked, incredulous. “Are you in the habit of
taking aid from strange spirits?”
Billy laughed. “No,”
I said, ignoring him. “The name—what did you call
him?”
“It,” Pritkin
corrected.
“But the
name—”
“Appropriate,” he
agreed, “an incubus called Dream.” I goggled at him, and he
frowned. “That is what the names it gave you mean. They are all
variations of the same word. Why do you ask?”
I sat frozen in
stunned comprehension, hearing a rich Spanish accent telling me
that his name was Chavez, and exactly what that name meant. I
rolled onto my back, staring sightlessly at the high ceiling. I’d
handed three boxes from the Senate’s prison into Chavez’s manicured
hands outside the ice rink. It would, of course, be too much to
hope that none of them had been Dracula’s.
I briefly wondered if
the incubus had been playing me all the time, or if it had been
luck that he ended up as my driver. Not that it mattered—either
way, I was screwed. There was no way those boxes had made it to
Casanova. Which meant that, in my time, Dracula was on the loose
again. And it was my fault.
“Finally!” someone
said behind me. For a moment, it barely registered. I was adding
Dracula to my to-do list and trying not to think about how long
that list was getting. But there was something very familiar about
that voice. “I didn’t think that vampire would ever leave! Now we
finish this.”
I turned slowly to
find a ghostly outline of a young brunette hovering a few feet off
the stage. I remembered those big blue eyes and the long white
dress from the last time I’d seen this particular spirit. She’d
informed me that she preferred appearing as she had been when
traveling in spirit form, rather than duplicating her actual
appearance. As a result, she still looked about
fifteen.
“Agnes.” For some
reason, I wasn’t even surprised. Or maybe my nerves were just too
worn down to react much. “How did you get here?”
“She hitched a ride.”
Billy sounded aggrieved. “She wouldn’t let me tell you, but she was
already in the necklace when I fought my way back to your body. She
must’ve been hiding around Headliners, and jumped from Françoise to
you.”
"Why?”
He shrugged. “We
didn’t talk much. I’d bet payback figures in there somewhere,
though.”
“Top of the list,”
Agnes agreed. She looked at me. “Set her free.” It was a command,
and spoken in the tones of one used to being immediately
obeyed.
I didn’t even try to
pretend I wasn’t following her. “You’re after Myra,
too.”
Agnes crossed almost
transparent arms and scowled at me. “Being murdered does tend to
irritate me. Imagine that.”
I shook my head. “I
heard her confess, but I still don’t understand how she did
it.”
“She gave me a
solstice gift shortly before she went missing. To help keep me
safe, she said.” Agnes’ lips twisted sardonically.
“The Sebastian
medallion, I know. It contained arsenic—the mages found it and cut
it open. But I still don’t see how it could have been dangerous.
The poison was welded inside! ”
“She bored a tiny
hole in the top before giving it to me. She knew my habits, knew I
always dunked a charm or talisman of some sort in my beverages
before I drank. It was a habit bequeathed me by my predecessor, who
swore my life would end with poison if I wasn’t cautious! Of
course,” Agnes said, drifting closer, “she also told me to buy
stocks in ’29. Herophile was a nutter.”
“Herophile?”
“Yes, named after the
second Pythia at Delphi. By all accounts, she was a little cracked,
too.”
I’d been named after
a nut. Why didn’t that surprise me? “But I still don’t see why Myra
wanted to kill you. If the power can’t go to the assassin of a
Pythia—”
“Technically, she
didn’t kill me.”
“She gave you a
poisoned medallion knowing what you’d do with it!” That sounded
like murder to me.
“But she didn’t force
me to use it,” Agnes pointed out. She held up a hand as I started
to protest. “Yes, I know. Any modern court would convict her, but
the power comes from a time before circumstantial evidence and
reasonable doubt. She didn’t take a sword to me or bash in my head
with a club. She didn’t even poison my wine—I did that. From its
perspective, she’s blameless.”
“So what now?” I
didn’t know what Agnes had meant by finishing this, but it sounded
kind of ominous.
“I said the power
considers Myra to be blameless. Not that I did,” she said
viciously. “The little bitch murdered me. Why do you think I’m
here?”
“And you’re planning
to do what?” Now that she was a disembodied spirit, her options
seemed pretty limited.
“Let her loose and
find out.”
It suddenly occurred
to me that Agnes did have one escape route. If she could possess
Myra, she could use her power to go back and try to change things.
I really hoped that wasn’t the plan, because I had no idea how I
was supposed to stop her if it was. I’d had enough trouble just
dealing with her heir; there was no doubt Agnes could run circles
around me if she felt like it.
“You can’t intend to
mess with the timeline yourself,” I said slowly, “not after
spending a lifetime protecting it!”
“Don’t lecture me
about the timeline!” she snapped.
“Who are you talking
to?” Pritkin demanded.
I sighed. For a
moment, I’d forgotten. Agnes was a spirit, so he couldn’t see or
hear her any better than he could Billy. “You wouldn’t believe me
if I told you.”
“Try me.” He wiped
away the blood pouring from a cut above his right eyebrow, I
suppose to get it out of his eyes, but all it did was smear it. He
suddenly looked like he was wearing war paint. I decided not to
argue.
“Okay. Agnes is here
in spirit form, and she’s planning to avenge her own murder. Do you
understand anything better now?”
“Yes.” He immediately
dropped to one knee. “Lady Phemonoe, it is an honor as always.” I
scowled at him. Way to show me where I ranked.
Agnes barely glanced
at him. She sent me a smile, but it wasn’t a very nice one. “Myra
took away my life. The way I see it, she owes me one.”
Finally, something
made sense. “Is that the deal you struck with Françoise? To get you
to this point so you could take over Myra’s body instead?” I
narrowed my eyes. “Or did you? Was she willing or
not?”
“She would never have
gotten away from the Light Fey without my help,” Agnes replied,
avoiding the question. “She probably wouldn’t even have survived!
My experience kept us both alive. I think she owed me a few years
for that!”
“That wasn’t your
call!”
“And speaking of
debts, who do you think sent those wards to your rescue earlier?
Your ghost didn’t know how they worked. I’m the one who saved you.
Again.” She looked at me pointedly. “So let her out!”
I clutched the box to
my side. I could feel a tiny pulse throbbing at the base of my
throat. “What if you can’t control her? You were supposed to pass
into a norm, not someone like her. Françoise even made things hard
on you sometimes. What do you think a Seer of Myra’s power would
do?”
"That’s my
problem.”
“Not if she gets away
from you!” I pulled out the box and shook it at her. “Do you have
any idea what I went through to get this? Myra was trying to kill
Mircea so he wouldn’t be around to protect me. And she almost
disrupted the entire timeline to do it! She almost killed me! And
you’re telling me it’s not my problem?” I was yelling, but I didn’t
care.
“Let her go, Cassie,”
Agnes warned.
“Or what? You’ll do
to me what you did to Françoise?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.
I couldn’t hold you.”
“But you can control
Myra?” I shook my head. “I don’t think so. She’s dangerous, Agnes.
I got her in here because of luck, more than anything else. No way
am I letting her go.”
Agnes sighed. “You
don’t understand—” She broke off when Pritkin suddenly ripped the
box out of my hand.
“Pritkin, no!” I made
a grab for it, but before I got so much as a finger on it, there
was a familiar flash and there stood Myra.
Agnes didn’t waste
any time. As soon as her old apprentice appeared, she flowed past
me in a rush and slammed straight into Myra’s shields. They spit
and crackled as the two fought, Myra to keep her out, Agnes to find
a way in.
“Do you know what
you’ve done?” I asked Pritkin numbly. “She won’t hold her. Not
forever.”
“She won’t need to,”
he replied, watching the fight grimly.
Before I could ask
what he meant, Myra screamed and Agnes disappeared, sinking through
whatever chink she’d found in the girl’s armor. The slight body
shivered once, hard, and then looked up calmly. I suddenly realized
that, except for their hair color and minor facial differences, the
two women might have been twins. They had the same slight build and
delicate bone structure, the same little-girl quality about them.
But the eyes that had looked cold and opaque with Myra’s mind
behind them were now dancing with life.
“I did it!” Agnes
announced, as if that was something to celebrate. She smiled at me.
I didn’t smile back. All that work, all that sacrifice had been for
nothing. Agnes might be powerful, but it wasn’t her body. Sooner or
later, she would lose her grip, even if only for an instant. And
that would be enough.
“You’re crazy,” I
told her.
Pritkin started
toward her, but Agnes held up a hand. “You don’t have the right,”
she said simply.
His eyes cut to me
and narrowed. “She won’t.”
“She must,” Agnes
said calmly. “You swore an oath.”
Pritkin walked over
and knelt by my side. I felt something cold touch my skin and
looked down to find him pressing one of his knives into my hand.
“Make it quick,” he said grimly. “One slice, clean across the
jugular.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
He closed my hand
over the hilt. “Myra condemned herself from her own lips. You heard
her. By every law—human, mage, or vampire—she deserves
death.”
The pieces finally
all fell into place. I didn’t much care for the picture they made.
“This is why you really wanted me along, isn’t it?”
He didn’t try to deny
it. “I swore an oath to protect the Pythia and her heir, with my
life if necessary. The Circle believed I would disregard it on
their order, that I would kill Myra with nothing to prove her
guilt. But when I give my word, I keep it.” His lips curled into a
sour smile. “Which is why I don’t give it often.”
“You didn’t bring me
along to keep Myra from shifting,” I accused. “You expect me to
kill her!”
His expression didn’t
change. We might have been discussing anything—the weather, a
football game. It was surreal. “If I could do it for you, I would,”
he told me calmly. “But Agnes is correct. Only the Pythia can
discipline an initiate.”
“We’re not talking
about discipline! Myra isn’t being sent to bed without supper.” I
looked at Agnes, hoping to find support. “This is life and
death!”
She shrugged Myra’s
slim shoulders, her face blank. She trained her for years and they
must have been close once, but there was no sign of regret on her
face. “You said it yourself. I can’t hold her. Not for
long.”
“If this is what the
job does to you,” I told her bluntly, “I know I don’t want
it.”
Blue eyes met mine,
and suddenly they were a little sad. “But you have
it.”
I felt the knife
blade bite into my hand, where my grip had slipped from the hilt,
and the pain seemed to suddenly bring everything home. I shook my
head violently. “No. We’ll find another way.”
Agnes regarded me
gently. It was extremely weird to see that expression on Myra’s
face. “There isn’t one. What were you planning to do? Keep her
tucked up your sleeve? Carry her about with you? Sooner or later,
she would get free. I taught her too much to doubt that.” Her
expression became more stern. “And dealing with rogues is part of
your job. That’s the rule.”
“It isn’t
my rule,” I said hoarsely.
“Someone has to do
it,” Agnes said implacably. “Someone has to take responsibility.
And whether you like it or not, that someone is you.”
I swallowed hard. The
tears I hadn’t shed earlier were rolling down my face, but I didn’t
care. Another death, this time not only my fault but by my hand?
That was not the plan. That was, in fact, the exact opposite of the
plan. I’d wanted to win, but not like this. I was sick of death,
especially death I helped to cause. A bitter taste flooded my
mouth. “I can’t.”
Agnes bent down and a
gentle hand cupped my face. “You haven’t even started to learn what
you can do yet. But you will.” She stepped away from me, a small,
sad smile on her face. “I would have liked to have trained you,
Cassie.” She looked at Pritkin. “She’ll need help,” she said
simply.
Pritkin was back on
his knees, his face white. “I know.”
Agnes nodded and
looked at me. A spasm passed over her face for a moment, but she
regained control. “I will never teach you most of the lessons you
will need,” she continued, “but I find I have time for
one.”
I only realized that
the knife was gone when I saw it in her small hand. “Agnes, no!” I
scrambled to my feet, but it was too late. She didn’t hesitate for
a second. By the time I reached her, she’d already sunk to her
knees, Myra’s pristine white gown drenched in blood. She settled to
the floor almost gracefully, her body a pale smear in the middle of
all that vivid color.
I stared around
frantically, but there was no sign of her spirit. Neither hers nor
Myra’s. I whirled on Pritkin, who was still on his knees, watching
the blood spill across the boards in a widening stain. For a
second, he looked lost, like a bewildered child. Then the
expression was gone so quickly I wasn’t sure it had been there at
all.
“Where is she?” I
demanded, my voice shrill with fear. “I can’t see her!” He looked
up at me, but it was almost as if his eyes didn’t focus for a
moment. I looked back at Myra’s crumpled form, and my vision
blurred to the point that it was hard to tell where the blood ended
and the red fabric of the dress began. “Pritkin!”
“She’s
gone.”
I rounded on him,
stunned and disbelieving. “What do you mean, she’s gone? Gone
where? Into another host?”
“No.” He got up and
came over to her body, and with a whispered word, the area around
her was engulfed in crimson flames. They cast a reddish glow on the
old boards and sparked glints off the gilt frame of the stage, but
it wasn’t a normal fire. The slim figure at the heart of the blaze
dusted to ashes in seconds, leaving only charred boards behind.
Pritkin turned to me, and his eyes were pained. It was that look,
more than his words, that got through. “Just gone.”
I shook my head,
blindly. “No! We could have found someplace safe for Myra. Agnes
could have found another host. I’d have helped her. It didn’t have
to end this way!”
He gripped my arms
painfully. “Do you still not understand? ”
“Understand what? She
died for nothing!” I was crying, but it was panic that clouded my
vision, making the world run in streams of color. Agnes couldn’t be
gone. I’d believed I was on my own before, but I hadn’t truly
understood the odds against me. Now I did, and I knew I wouldn’t be
enough. “I’ll go back, I’ll save her—” I began, only to have him
shake me so hard, my teeth rattled.
“Lady Phemonoe died
doing her duty. She was one of the greatest of her line. You will
not disgrace her!”
“Disgrace her? I’m
talking about saving her!”
“There are some
things even the Pythia cannot change,” he said, his hard expression
softening. “Myra had to die, and someone had to make sure that she
couldn’t use her power to jump into another body before her spirit
was pulled away. And the only way to do that . . .”
Understanding finally
dawned. “Was for someone to go with her,” I whispered. I stared at
the charred boards, disbelieving. It had all happened so fast.
Maybe a fully trained Pythia wouldn’t be plagued by doubts or
worry, wouldn’t second-guess her decisions or wonder what right she
had to the power she held. But I hadn’t been trained, and I didn’t
know what to do. Panic stopped my throat, froze my brain. I was on
my own, and I was terrified.
“I assume you will go
after the Codex no matter what I
decide?” Pritkin asked.
It took a moment for
my brain to catch up with my ears. And even then I didn’t get it.
Why was he asking about this now? A
hundred problems were pulling at me, tugging me in different
directions, to the point that I couldn’t think clearly about any of
them. All I knew was that Agnes was gone. And that it was all up to
me now.
“What?” I asked
stupidly.
“The Codex,” he said patiently. “You are determined to
seek it out?”
“I don’t have a
choice,” I said, confused. “The geis
won’t budge. And I can’t function if it gets much worse.” At the
moment I wasn’t sure I could function anyway.
He nodded once, up
and down. “Then I will help you.”
I could feel the
tears drying on my face, but I couldn’t be bothered to wipe them
away. “I always wondered if you have a death wish. I guess now I
know.”
“I promised Lady
Phemonoe that I would help you.”
I wrenched away from
him, suddenly furious. “Agnes is gone! And I don’t want another
corpse on my hands. They’re bloody enough!” I tried to move back,
to get away from those burned boards, but my foot caught on the hem
of the dress and I ended up on my hands and knees.
“I wasn’t asking your
permission,” he informed me coolly.
I looked up at him
through a curtain of tangled hair. “I’ll never be the Pythia she
was,” I warned. “I may not be any good at all.”
For the first time
ever, I saw what looked like a genuine smile cross Pritkin’s face.
“Well, that’s encouraging.” He hauled me to my feet. “No one who
wants power should ever be allowed to wield it.”
“Then I’ll be great,”
I said bitterly, “because no one could possibly want it any less
than I do.”
Pritkin didn’t
answer. Instead, to my disbelief, he sank to one knee in front of
me. His clothes were torn and bloody, his face soot-stained, but
there was still something impressive about him. “I don’t recall the
exact wording,” he said. “And there should be
witnesses—”
“What am I?” Billy
asked, indignant, as he flowed back inside my
necklace.
Pritkin ignored him.
“But I believe it went something like this: I swear to defend you
and your appointed successor against all malefactors present and to
come, in peace and in war, for as long as I live and you continue
to remain true to the ideals of your office.”
I stared down at him,
and suddenly a weight seemed to lift from my shoulders. However
exasperating, annoying and just plain asinine Pritkin could be at
times, he was a good man to have in a fight. And I had a feeling
there was a lot of that ahead. “So I guess you’ll be calling me
Lady Herophile the Second from now on?”
“The Seventh.” He was
on his knees, but I received the same old arrogant look from those
green eyes. “And don’t count on it.”
The main door slammed
open and a stream of vamps poured in, murder in their eyes. I
grabbed Pritkin’s shoulder and gave him a weary smile. “I can live
with that,” I said, and shifted.