Reap the Wind (35 page)

“So that you can get killed with them?” he demanded.

“So I can do my job!”

“Your job is
here
, finding your acolytes and helping your allies. How exactly is the war effort to be served by running about time after a single war mage?”

“This isn’t just about him—”

“On the contrary, this is wholly about him. Don’t you see what they are doing? What Marsden is doing? He was the last Pythia’s lover—oh yes, we knew—and is now trying to exert the same measure of power over you. But he is too old to use his own charm these days; therefore he uses another—”

“Pritkin?”
I stared at Mircea incredulously.

“Ironic that it should be the man who began his association with you by trying to kill you,” Mircea said grimly. “But you have come to rely on him—too much. And this has not gone unremarked, by us or by the Circle.”

“Pritkin has never tried to influence me—”

“Has not tried to influence you yet. But it will come, if you keep him in your service. Perhaps whatever calamity he finds himself in is for the best, before he becomes even more of a problem than he already—”

“Pritkin is not a problem! And this is not about him. This is me making a formal request of an ally—”

“As I just did?” A dark eyebrow raised. “You know how our world works, Cassie; you have always known—”

“I knew how it worked for others. I thought we were different.”

“We
are
different. But we have two relationships—”

“Until you decide otherwise!”

“Cassie—”

“Give me the Tears, Mircea!”

And I knew it, saw it in his eyes before he even got the words out.
“Give me an army.”

“God
damnit
!” I said, and shifted.

“You’re calling him?” Tami followed me from the lounge, where she’d been putting a puzzle together with some of the kids, into the kitchen.

“Yep.”

“But I thought you were gonna give him more time.”

“He’s had time,” I said, and grabbed the house phone.

She grinned and slid some cornflakes in front of me while we waited for the connection to go through. It didn’t take long, which wasn’t surprising considering that it was a little after eight a.m. here, meaning it was afternoon in Britain. And considering that it didn’t go through to the right guy, even though this was his direct line.

“Lord Protector’s office,” a brisk-sounding functionary told me. “How may I help?”

“By putting me through to Jonas.”

“And whom shall I say is calling?”

“Cassandra Palmer.”

There was a small silence on the other end. “I . . . shall inquire.”

“What’s he doing?” Tami asked, leaning on the counter, eyes bright, while I listened to Elton John sing about tiny dancers.

“Inquiring.”

“What is there to inquire about? You’re the Pythia. They put you through.”

“No, they put Agnes through.”

Tami scowled.

“He . . . the Lord Protector . . . is in a meeting,” the secretary informed me after a minute. “I was instructed to arrange . . . an appointment?”

Jonas needed to get some new help, I decided.

Even his secretary sounded like he knew that was bullshit.

“Okay,” I said. “I just wanted to check with him before anything was finalized.”

“Finalized?”

“Yes, you know. About my court?”

“I . . . The Pythian Court?”

“Do I have another one I don’t know about?”

“I . . . no. That is to say—”

“Please don’t. Just tell him I called, so he doesn’t say I didn’t consult him—”

“Consult—”

“—before deciding to make the court’s permanent residence Las Vegas—”

Tami laughed.

“—instead of whatever other possibilities we might have dis—”

“Be right back,” the man said, and the Muzak cut back in abruptly.

“What’s happening now?” Tami asked eagerly.

“I’m on hold again.”

“At least it’s Queen this time,” Roy said, not even trying to pretend that he wasn’t listening in.

I didn’t care. If I cared, I’d have done this in the bedroom, under a silence spell. But I was getting tired of having to creep around my own suite, of having to keep secrets from the people who were supposed to be my allies, of trying to do my job with no support and with active opposition half the time.

And it wasn’t like it mattered.

Mircea wasn’t going to give me that damned potion anyway.

Of course, Jonas probably wasn’t, either. I’d told Tami the truth last night: I didn’t have a lot of cards to play with him. In fact, I’d had exactly one, which I’d just used to try to get him on the phone.

It was the same problem I had with Mircea.
I am Pythia, hear me roar
might sound good in theory, but in practice it was a lot more problematic. Because what were my options? Fight Ares on my own? Run the Pythian Court like some kind of island in the supernatural stream? Never talk to them again? I was pretty sure that wasn’t in the job description. I was pretty sure that was the exact opposite of the job description, that the Pythia was supposed to be a bridge between the various groups, bringing them closer together.

Although it kind of sounded like Agnes hadn’t been doing that.

It almost felt like sacrilege to question her, but I was beginning to think that maybe her relationship with Jonas had given the Circle delusions of grandeur. Like they didn’t need anybody else, because they had the Pythia. And as for the vamps—

Well, they hadn’t trusted the office at all.

Until I came along.

And now I was Agnes 2.0, only with a vamp lover instead of a mage one. Who obviously expected the same privileges he thought Jonas had been getting. And maybe that would have worked in peacetime; maybe I could have done the same thing Agnes apparently had, and let the powers that be believe what they wanted while I did whatever I damned well liked. Hell, I’d mostly been doing that anyway, because I hadn’t had a choice. But it wasn’t going to work forever.

Because I wasn’t a peacetime Pythia. I was a wartime Pythia, and I
needed
them. I needed both of them to work
with
me instead of dictating
to
me, but they weren’t. And I didn’t know how to make them and I was running out of time and Jonas wasn’t going to give me shit, I
knew
it, assuming he even deigned to speak with me at all, and—

And then he was on the line. “Cassandra.”

“
Lady
Cassandra,” Rian snapped, because she had come into the kitchen in time to overhear.

If he heard her back, he didn’t react. Or probably care. I cleared my throat and grabbed an apple out of the bowl, because I needed something to concentrate on.

“I’m not calling about my court,” I told him.

“I gathered that.” It was dry.

“Or about the money.”

And, okay, that got a slight pause. And a frown from Tami, who is more practical than me, and probably had a list of all the stuff the girls needed. But they weren’t going to die if they didn’t get it.

Someone else was.

“I’m calling about the Tears of Apollo,” I told him evenly. “Rhea said she asked you for them.”

“She did.”

“She also said she told you why. My acolytes—”

“Will not obtain any from us.”

I concentrated on the apple, which might have darkened a shade, although that could have been my imagination. And told myself to keep my voice steady. Because that had sounded a lot like “and neither will you.”

“You can’t know that,” I pointed out. “They can shift in anywhere. Agnes trained them herself, and they seem to have paid attention.”

“A fact of which you would be unaware had you not sought them out.”

“They’re my responsibility—”

“A great many things are your responsibility, and those girls are the least of it!”

“Not if they obtain the Tears,” I said, staying calm, because I had to. I had to do this right. “At best, it will leave me dealing with multiple Myras, and at worst—”

“There will be no worst, as they shan’t obtain any.”

And, okay, that staying calm thing was getting a little harder. The apple definitely blushed darker, which probably matched my face as I struggled to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Jonas, they were looking for the Tears when I met up with them. They killed Elias for them—”

“For which they will be brought to account, I assure you.” He sounded grim. “But that can be left to us. You need to concentrate on other things—”

“I can’t concentrate on other things until I’m sure about the Tears! Send them to me, whatever stock you have, and then we can—”

“I can’t do that.”

“Damn it, Jonas! We’re supposed to be allies!” I said, and belatedly noticed that the apple was now slimy apple mush, and seriously gross.

Tami handed me a paper towel.

“A fact you seem to be forgetting of late.” It was acid. “But at any rate, I couldn’t send them to you if I wished to.”

“And why not?”

“For the same reason I know the acolytes will not obtain any from us. The last batch was sent to court a week before Agnes passed—”

“A week?”

“—and in her absence, naturally no more have been—”

Jonas was still talking, but I was having trouble hearing him over the sudden roaring in my ears.

How much is a batch?
I mouthed to Rhea.

Three.

Three?

“—and in any case, it requires six months to—Cassie?
Cassie?
”

•   •   •

“Whoa,” Tami said, grabbing my arm, and looking a little woozy. “You do this all the time?”

“Feels like it,” I told her, glancing around Agnes’ living room.

It was dark and quiet and empty, just like last time. Which wasn’t surprising since this
was
last time, or at least the same night Rhea and I had visited before. I’d just brought us back to several hours earlier. The acolytes were probably still off at my inauguration, and with Rhea along, the wards were ignoring us.

Or maybe there was another reason for that.

Because Tami wasn’t just awesome with kids and a great cook. She was also a magical null. One of the rare witches who couldn’t do magic herself, but who could make sure nobody else did any, either. Or anything.

At least, I really hoped so, because safecracking was not in my skill set.

“It’s behind the painting,” I told Tami, who had gotten over the disorientation of a time shift and was staring around in apparent fascination.

“This is where the Pythias lived?” she asked, taking it in.

“Until it was blown up.”

“Damn,” she told me. “Your place needs an upgrade.”

“I wouldn’t feel comfortable somewhere like this,” I said, pulling the painting open.

“You sure? ’Cause I could get used to it. I could get used to it real fast,” she said, checking out the crystal on the bar.

“You don’t like the suite?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Honey, that’s not a suite. That’s a halfway house. You know you can’t keep that up, right?”

“It’s only been a couple days—”

“A couple days too long. You got to think of your image.”

I glanced at Rhea, who hadn’t said anything, but whose silence was kind of telling. “It’s a penthouse suite,” I pointed out.

Tami laughed. “It’s a penthouse suite with bullet holes in the walls, cots all over the floor, and no privacy for those girls or for you. I don’t know why you’ve put up with it this long!”

“Other things seemed more important.”

“Yeah, but you have your court now,” she said, joining me. And putting out a hand, ten inches or so away from the surface of the safe. “You’ve gotta think of the girls. Know how long I had to wait for the bathroom this morning? I should have gone down to the lobby—it would’ve been faster!”

“Casanova should be back to work soon. I’ll ask him—”

“Why? Why ask him anything? You don’t have to stay there. You could live anywhere. You could live
here
.” She glanced around appreciatively.

“Did you miss the whole blowing-up thing?”

“Okay, maybe not
here
here, but you know what I mean. Somewhere like this.”

I frowned. “What’s wrong with Vegas?”

“It’s
Vegas
?”

“I thought you liked it there.”

“For a vacation, sure. But it don’t exactly say serene and otherworldly, does it?”

“I’m not serene and otherworldly—”

“And you’re not gonna be living there.”

I frowned some more. “It’s convenient. MAGIC used to be there,” I said, talking about the supernatural version of the UN. Which had recently suffered a small setback in the form of an angry god. “They’re talking about building it back. And even if they don’t, a lot of groups still have reps in the area—”

“Those yard-long beers, always a draw.”

“—and Dante’s currently has the best wards anywhere!” The Senate had moved in temporarily while they sorted out long-term accommodations, and they’d upgraded the security almost immediately. “It makes sense to stay there.”

“You just like it there,” Tami accused.

I didn’t deny it. Despite the glitter and the glamour, Vegas had started to feel like home. And what were my alternatives? Going back to Philly? Because I didn’t have such great memories there. Or Atlanta? Where, yes, things had been better, if by better you mean living in constant fear of getting caught by my crazy old vamp master and then almost dying. I’d met some nice people in Atlanta, but it’s hard to make friends when you know you’re basically endangering them all. So, okay, but nothing I missed.

I thought I might miss Vegas.

There were places I’d been with people I did call friends. Memories I’d made, even whacked-out ones, that were important to me. And people . . .

Lots of people I cared about, even if some of them were currently acting like asses.

I glanced around. Someplace like this, I’d forever feel out of place, inadequate, like a little girl dressing up in mommy’s clothes, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. While in Vegas . . . you could be anybody you wanted to be. I’d often thought that was the real allure of the place. Not the cheap beer or the chance to get rich—which, on the Strip, at least, was basically zero—or the clubs or the shows. But a chance to try on a new skin for a while, to do something different, to
be
someone different.

A banker could be a biker.

A secretary could be a seductress.

And a palm reader could be Pythia.

Plus, London might be more posh, but it was also more structured. Everybody who’d been with the old court was here. If I came back, I’d be expected to do things their way, the old way. But in Vegas . . . it would be
my
court. And maybe it wouldn’t be as serene or as perfect, but . . .

But it might be more fun.

“I think we’ll stay there for a while, see how it goes,” I told her nonchalantly.

Tami shot me a look. “Well, wherever you stay, you need a bigger place—a lot bigger. You need some impressive areas for receiving guests. You need somewhere you can talk, with some damned privacy—”

“I need in that safe,” I reminded her. “Are you almost there?”

“Give it a minute,” Tami said, unconcerned. Because I guess after you break into a couple dozen Circle-run establishments, one little safe doesn’t seem like a big deal. “And a decorator,” she added. “The last thing you need is to let whoever designed that damned hellscape of a hotel anywhere near—”

“You could do it,” I blurted out, before I thought.

And damn it! I’d planned to wait a bit to say anything, like until I had some money. But too late now.

“You could help with . . . a lot of things,” I finished awkwardly, because she was looking at me.

“You offering me a job?”

“A . . . sort of job.”

“What’s a sort of job?” Ms. Practical asked.

“A . . . job with a delayed paycheck,” I said, wincing. “But just until I can pry the money out of Jonas,” I added quickly.