Pritkin gave his usual sneer. “Believe what you like, vampire, but we have training exercises more difficult than your so-called defenses! If she does not act, the sybil will die and there will be nothing to stop the Senate from being replaced by one allied with the dark.” He kept his eyes and his weapons steady on Tomas, but again he spoke to me. “If you can do anything, do it now.”
“I don’t know how!” I ran a hand through my hair, wanting to pull some of it out in frustration, and met up with something solid. My fingers curled around the hair clip Louis-César had given me when tending my cheek. It had somehow managed to hang in there all this time. I concentrated and felt a faint tingle, a distant echo of the disorientation that preceded a vision, but it wasn’t enough. It had belonged to him, had been in contact with his body, so it should have worked as a focus the same way he had. But either I wasn’t strong enough to make the leap with only an object, or he hadn’t owned it very long and the link was weak. Either way, I needed help.
“Billy! I need something called the Tears of Apollo.”
“Okay, and this would be where?”
I looked up at Mircea. “The Tears! What do they look like and where are they?”
“In the inner sanctum, in a small bottle, crystal with a blue stopper. But if we enter the chamber, Tomas will know the way. These four hallways are the last barrier. Three are false and lead only to death. Only one leads to the Consul. Once she is dead, our cause is lost.”
Billy had drifted over as we spoke. “There’s only one real passageway, Cass. The others are just good glamourie. I’ll be right back.”
“Cassie, don’t do this!” Tomas looked daggers at Mircea. “He will never let you go! If you truly want freedom, help me.” I shook my head and his face grew desperate. “Please, Cassie, you can’t refuse! You don’t understand—Alejandro is a monster! I have begged Louis-César to free me. I have told him what atrocities Alejandro has done, what he will continue to do until someone stops him, yet he refuses.”
“I can’t believe he won’t help you. I could try—”
“Cassie! If I could not sway him in a century of pleading, why do you think he would listen to you? Alejandro has some sort of hold over him. He has something Louis-César wants and has promised it to him if he keeps me under control. I have thought about this for years and there is no other way. Alejandro must die, and therefore so must his champion.”
I looked into the fervent light in Tomas’ eyes and saw that he meant every word he was saying. He might want to be Consul, but he also really wanted this Alejandro dead. For all I knew, maybe the guy deserved what Tomas obviously wanted to dish out. But that wasn’t up to me to decide. “I won’t trade one person’s life for another’s, Tomas. I can’t let you murder Louis-César. I’m not God, and neither are you.”
Tomas gestured violently at Mircea. “Why can’t you see that he only wants to use you? If you did not have your powers, you would mean nothing to him!”
“And what would I mean to you, if I couldn’t help you gain the consulate?”
Tomas smiled, and it transformed his face, making him look boyish and adorable again. Like my Tomas. “You know how I feel about you, Cassie. I will give you security and peace. What can he offer?”
I was about to point out that he hadn’t answered the question, when Billy came streaming back, a small bottle clutched in one insubstantial hand. “I hope you don’t need nothin’ else, Cass, ’cause I’m outta juice.” He dropped the Tears in my palm, and the tiny bottle was surprisingly heavy.
I slid out the stopper just as Tomas lunged, not at me as I’d half expected, but at Rafe. Pritkin fired, but the shotgun blast was stopped by the heavy wards of the chamber and deflected back on him. His shields held, but his gun ended up a twisted mass of steaming metal and he was thrown back against the wall, hard.
“Give me the Tears, Cassie.” Tomas held out one hand; the other had Rafe in a stranglehold. “Mircea can’t protect all of you at the same time, but no one has to get hurt. Help me and I’ll let him go.”
I didn’t have to worry about finding an answer. Tomas had, once again, underestimated the mage. I guess he thought that, with the wards rendering magical weapons and firearms useless, Pritkin couldn’t be much of a threat. He found out differently when the mage jumped up, drew a cord out of his pocket and slipped it around Tomas’ throat. A garrote may be crude, but it works.
Tomas let go of Rafe and Mircea didn’t waste any time pushing him towards the doorway Billy had exited. Rafe had barely cleared it when the cha
mber’s wards failed and a whole crowd of people muscled in. Pritkin yelled something and let go, pushing Tomas towards them. Mircea clutched me tight and, in the time it takes to blink, we were inside another hallway, running full out. I felt the passageway’s wards slam shut behind us and got a glimpse of the scene in the outer chamber over Mircea’s shoulder. Tomas was slumped on the ground, a hand to his throat, gagging. Behind him were some humans wearing enough weapons to tell me as clearly as if they’d had it tattooed on their foreheads that they were war mages. I had a glimpse of Pritkin, face distorted in a snarl as he faced them; then we rounded a corner and were in the inner sanctum.
Chapter 14
It was a small room, maybe ten by twelve, with bare stone walls, floor and ceiling. The only light came from a pair of torches, one on either side of a rather mundane-looking metal cabinet. It looked really out of place, like something that ought to be in a modern office building, not sitting in the vault of a magical stronghold. The Consul was standing before it, as still as a statue except for her living costume, holding a small silver ball in her hand. The cabinet door was open, showing rows of shelves full of black boxes.
I didn’t waste time saying hello, but splashed the contents of the bottle all over Mircea and me. As soon as the liquid hit my skin, it was like a veil had been lifted. I could See everything, each image and sensation from that other time, as clearly as if I were leafing through pages in a book. Mircea put me down and I clutched him as my feet hit the floor. The images shifting through my head gave me double vision and I was afraid I’d fall.
“We have five minutes,” the Consul said mildly, as if discussing the weather.
“I know.” Mircea looked down at me. “Can you do it?”
I nodded. I had the scene I wanted. It was perfect—two people all alone with no one to see if they suddenly began acting strangely. It was a bonus that one of them was Louis-César. I figured he would be a lot harder to kill with Mircea in residence. “I’m going to try to jump us into a couple of bodies, since it’ll give us more time. We can feed off them as Billy does me. But I don’t know if this will work. I’ve never done it deliberately.” I looked at Billy Joe, who was hovering anxiously. “Come in.”
“Cassie, listen, I…”
“There’s no time, Billy.” I regarded the spirit I was trusting with my body, possibly permanently, and for a second I saw the man he might have been had he lived. “If I don’t make it back, do your best to kill Tony and free my father. Promise.” I didn’t know if he could do it, but Billy was amazingly resourceful when he wanted to be.
He stared at me, then slowly nodded. He dissolved into a cloud of sparkling energy and flowed across my skin like an old, familiar blanket. I took him in gladly, ignored the flash of his last card game, which he should have played to lose, and felt him settle in. There was nothing left but to let go. I concentrated on the scene I’d selected, saw again that dim, candlelit room, felt the cool breeze from the window and smelled the scents of firewood, roses and sex. Then the earth gave way and we were falling.
The jolt of impact felt like I’d hit the ground after diving out a second-story window. But I barely noticed it considering the other sensations flooding through the body I had borrowed. I looked up to see Louis-César haloed in candlelight for an instant, just before he plunged into me. I cried out in surprise, but not in pain. It didn’t hurt as Mircea had warned; it felt wonderful. I watched him pull out and tried to say something, but then he slammed into me again and all I wanted was for him to go faster, harder. My nails were scratching his back, but he didn’t seem to mind. I looked into his eyes and saw that they had turned a beautiful liquid amber, a color Louis-César had never had in life or death.