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.