Tomas was alive, but his wounds were bad-very bad. He was laid out on the dark wood like some bizarre form of art-something Picasso might have painted if he was in the habit of putting his nightmares on canvas. This might have been a trap, but it was obvious that, if I hadn't shown up, the Senate would have let Jack kill him. They probably planned to do so anyway, now that he'd served his purpose.
I narrowed my eyes at the Consul, but she made no response. I'd seen her kill two ancient vampires with little more than a look, when they were farther from her than I currently was. But I felt no sting of desert sand against my face, no warning rush of power. It suddenly occurred to me that, in a room full of magical creatures, I felt no magic at all.
"You used a null bomb on me, didn't you?”
The Consul smiled. It wasn't a nice expression. "You overlooked a few.”
Considering everything, I didn't feel much like apologizing for taking their stuff. "Well, damn. I'll try to be more thorough next time.”
"We don't have time for verbal sparring," an old mage interrupted, glaring at me. "The effect won't last much longer, and you know we can't afford to explode another-”
One of the Senate members, a brunette in hoop skirts, picked him up by the throat, choking off his voice as she hoisted him into the air. She looked inquiringly at the Consul, but the Senate leader shook her head. The damage was done. All I needed was to stall long enough for the spell to break. Then my power could get Tomas and me out of this. Unfortunately, I had no idea how long that might take.
"Look, all I want is Tomas," I told her. "You were about to kill him, so I guess you won't miss him.”
My attempt to start a dialogue fell flat. "I wish this were not necessary, Cassandra," the Consul said quietly. She glanced at the vampires around her, some of the most powerful on the planet. "Take her," she said simply.
I didn't try to run. There was no point. Under other circumstances, it would almost have been funny. What did she think I was going to do that would require half a dozen first-level masters to stop? Without my power and with my ward acting up, the youngest vamp in the place could make me into dinner with no problem at all.
Then I realized that I wasn't the one she was worried about.
"Remove it!" Mircea had stopped short of the table, and although his face was impassive, his fists were clenched at his sides. Not a good sign on someone who normally controlled himself so well. The other vamps seemed to agree. They weren't looking at me-every eye was riveted on him.
"Mircea." The Consul walked up behind him and placed a smooth bronze-skinned hand on his shoulder. It looked like it was meant as a calming gesture, but he shrugged it off. The circle of vamps drew in a collective breath, and the southern belle actually gasped. The Consul's hand quickly became an arm around his throat, but it was as if he didn't even notice. "I suggest you heed him," she told me. I noticed that, despite her grip, Mircea was making slow progress forward, if only by inches. "What do you hope to gain by allowing this to continue?”
"Allowing what to continue?" I looked from her to Mircea in mounting confusion, only to see his calm facade slip a little more. I didn't need her to tell me that something was wrong. His face was as white as bone, but his eyes burned like two candles.
"This has gone on long enough," the Consul agreed. "Release him, and we will discuss matters amicably. Otherwise…”
"Otherwise what?" I might not understand what was happening, but I knew a threat when I heard one.
"I will let go," she said quietly. "Then we will see if you can deal with the results of your revenge. We have been doing it long enough." The dark eyes flashed, and I suddenly understood how she'd dominated an empire when only a teenager. "I need him, Cassandra! We are at war. I cannot have him like this, not now.”
"Cassie…" Mircea had somehow managed to lift his right arm, despite the fact that a Senate member almost as old as the Consul was hanging off it. Tendrils of sensation radiated outward from his hand like smoke from a fire. At first I thought he was just leaking power, but then one wisp brushed against me and I understood. It felt like one of my old visions, the kind in which I saw flashes of the future. They had been absent since my run-in with the Pythia, and I had wondered whether they were gone for good. I'd half hoped so. They had been a part of me for as long as I could remember, but they'd never shown me anything good. This was no exception.
A fragment of vision curled around my arm despite my best attempt to dodge it. It was so hot that I expected to see a welt rise on my skin. What I got instead was worse-a mosaic of images, each more cruel than the last: a blood-covered Mircea battling for his life in a swordfight almost too fast to see; a triumphant-looking Myra running from the shadows to throw something at him; an explosion that was more felt than heard, reverberating through the ground and tearing the air; and then, where two elegant fighters had been, a sodden mass of flesh and bone gleaming slick and red in low light, so mixed up that it was impossible to tell where one body began and the other ended.
I screamed and jerked away, causing the scene to shatter. I stumbled backward, too desperate to get away from the images to worry about dignity. I stared around frantically, but most of the vamps were still fixated on Mircea. A few spared me a puzzled glance, but none looked as if they had seen anything unusual, much less the gory death of one of their senior members. But there was no doubt in my mind what I'd witnessed. Somewhere, somewhen, Myra had succeeded.
It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice cubes into my stomach. My visions always came true-always. I'd tried to change the outcome of things before, especially when I was younger. I'd gone to Tony numerous times to report upcoming disasters, believing him when he swore he would do everything in his power to stop them. But, of course, the only thing he'd ever done was to figure out how to profit from them. And, in the end, everything had always happened exactly as I'd foreseen. The same held true for a vision I'd seen as an adult, when I tried to warn a friend of his impending assassination. I didn't know whether he'd received the message or not, but it hadn't mattered. He still died.
But all that was before I became Pythia, or, at least, her heir. I had changed things since then, hadn't I? And, if Myra had won, why was Mircea still here?
I finally focused on the Consul. I needed answers and Mircea was in no shape to give them to me. "What is going on? Is this a trick?" Even as I said it, I knew it wasn't. I'd had enough visions to know the real thing when I felt it.
The Consul's eyes narrowed to slits. "Do you play with me?" she demanded, so quietly that I hardly heard her.
I looked down at Tomas and drew in a sharp breath. I wasn't the one playing here. "I want Tomas," I said, more unsteadily than I liked. "You obviously want something, too. Tell me what it is and maybe we can make a trade.”
"You don't know." I finally saw emotion cross that lovely face. It was surprise.
Tomas made a small sound and I lost it. "Just tell me!" The vision had shattered my nerves, and I didn't feel like chatting while Tomas slowly bled out.
The Consul took a breath, which she didn't need, and nodded. "Very well. Remove the geis you placed on Lord Mircea, and I will give you the traitor.”
I goggled at her. "What?" Somewhere along the line, I'd missed something. "The only geis around here is the one he put on me! It's been causing me hell.”
"Hell?" Mircea laughed abruptly, but it was mirthless. "What do you know of hell?" He tore free of his living restraints and dropped to the floor. Two vamps dove under the table after him, but I never saw how close they came. All I know is, it wasn't close enough. I was suddenly crushed against a hard chest. "Try mine," he whispered before catching my lips in a bruising kiss.