“Don’t know what happened after that,” she added, grinning.
Neither did I, and I didn’t want to. What the hell was wrong with Rhea, and how was I supposed to fix it? How was I supposed to fix any of this?
I momentarily thought about burying my head under the covers, but I doubted it would help. I knew what would help, but that was back home, too. I settled for sitting there miserably, cold chills climbing over my body, my head pounding and my stomach growling. And scowled at the fearsome creature of legend sitting on my bed.
“Great, thanks for telling me. And you’re still here because?”
She grinned. And then flopped onto the bed like she owned the place, which, considering that she was blood, was probably fair. “God, I’m glad you’re an asshole!”
“I’m not,” I snapped.
“Then you’re giving a really good impression, but don’t take it the wrong way.” She rolled her head over to look at me. “I vastly prefer assholes to the slick, smarmy, too-diplomatic-to-ever-say-one-true-thing types around here. At least with assholes, you know where you stand.”
“And where do I stand with you?”
She just smiled. “I want to make sure we have an agreement.”
“About what?”
“What I said in the senate chamber. Jonathan is going to poke his creepy head out, sooner or later, and I want him alive.”
“Fine. Got it.” I threw back the bedclothes and started to get up, only to have a deceptively small hand latch onto my arm with the speed of a striking snake and the strength of a bodybuilder.
Make that ten bodybuilders, I thought, because I struggled for a minute and went exactly nowhere. It might as well have been a statue that had latched onto me. God, I didn’t need this!
“What do you want?”
“Assurance. Jonathan lives off magic; he’s drawn to it like a fly to light. And you’re the brightest spark around.”
I frowned at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, that little show you put on in there? That was life magic. I can’t feed from it, like the family does, but I’ve learned to recognize it when I see it.”
“So?”
“So, didn’t you hear them in there, droning on and on about magical types? I thought I was going to stab myself in the eye. But there is a difference. Wild magic is like electricity; you can do things with it, but you can’t feed from it, or trust me, the vamps would be sucking on a ley line’s teat twenty-four-seven.”
I blinked but didn’t reply, trying to get that image out of my head.
“But what you have, that’s the good stuff. The rare stuff. The kind only found in bodies.”
“Like the ones everyone has?”
“But everyone else doesn’t have magical life energy, the wild magic of the world processed through the body of a mage. Regular old mages don’t have enough for Jonathan anymore, and the adulterated piss the Black Circle regularly rips off does almost as much harm as good. But you . . . my God, you’re the mother lode!”
I pulled away, and this time, she let me go. I stood by the side of the bed, Augustine’s dress feeling ridiculously silky and inadequate, especially without the armor-like breastplate. Somebody had taken that off, and I didn’t see where they’d put it, not that it mattered. It wouldn’t have provided much heat anyway.
I crossed my arms and scowled at her. “What are you saying?”
“What does it sound like? He’s going to come after you, sooner or later—and probably sooner.”
“Why sooner?”
“Because he’s getting desperate.”
She scooted over to the side of the bed, causing me to step back a pace. She noticed, and for the first time, she dropped the insouciant smile. “Sorry, by the way.”
“About what?”