And then Louis-Cesare dragged me back through the portal again.
“This . . . is getting . . . goddamned . . . old!” I told him, as we rolled around on the floor of an office three thousand miles away.
The Washington State vamps were still just standing there, watching us and looking like they wanted to intervene. But when it was a case of the boss’ daughter and the boss’ nephew, it was a conundrum. I decided to help them out.
“Get in there!” I pointed a toe, which was all I currently had loose, at the portal. “We’re getting our asses kicked!”
And then Louis-Cesare grabbed me the wrong way, I screamed, and he let go—for half a second. But that was enough. I slipped out of his grip, flung myself through the portal, and arrived in time to see—
Fuck!
We were getting our asses kicked!
But then the cavalry arrived, bursting through the portal behind me with a yell, followed by a furious ex-boyfriend who was stunning when he was angry.
And right then, he was livid.
He snatched up one of Marlowe’s guys and threw him at a window, only we didn’t have a window. “We. Are going. To bed!” he roared at me, loudly enough for everyone to stop fighting for a second and stare at him.
“Not in front of the children,” I said, snatched a nice Persian carpet from under his feet, and watched the portal grab him when he fell backward.
And then I grabbed one of Mircea’s guys. “Controls?”
He pointed at a desk.
I slammed my hand down on the actual button, shot one of Marlowe’s guys in the face, and ran out the door.
Knowing Louis-Cesare, I’d just bought myself maybe thirty seconds.
I intended to use them.
Chapter Forty-six
My Sire was here. I felt him before I saw him, the brush of his power spreading out over the great hall like ripples in a pond. Small ones, subtle ones. Ones no one else seemed to notice.
Feelers; he was looking for me. And he was good—he was very good—and he knew my power signature like he knew his own. I stayed very, very still.
The young vampire I was riding looked around, from his less-than-dignified place on the floor. He appeared somewhat bewildered, the panic having cleared his head. He hadn’t planned to come here, into the audience hall, which, frankly, terrified him. He’d been on an errand when I’d suggested a shortcut, one he was now deciding he could live without. He scrambled to his feet and fled, forcing me to make a hasty decision.
Hoping the minor hop would go unnoticed, I jumped to a passing human who was carrying a tray of glasses. Magic swirled all around us, from the little sparks off gowns and coats, to the background hum of the wards, to the multicolored clouds that sparkled everywhere. Surely, no one could see through all that—
Dorina.
A flash of dark eyes in a thunderous face flicked across my inner eye.
I batted it away and jumped, right before a couple of guards grabbed my very bewildered ride, spilling his champagne. They took him away, while I rode a low-level master in another direction. It was more of a risk, but his magic somewhat cloaked my own. I hid in the haze of his power, staying quiet, wishing I dared try to influence him, even though it probably wouldn’t have worked.
But I couldn’t risk finding out, not with Mircea so close.
I could see him now, dark, lean, and dressed in a sleek tuxedo instead of the velvet robes he was entitled to. He looked strangely human among the glittering throng, like a raven among peacocks—ah. He hadn’t planned to be here tonight.
He was supposed to be at the apartment in New York, charming the mages who made weapons into making them for the Senate. And into finding ones powerful enough to be of use in Faerie. He was to lead the assault on the fey that was soon to come, and wanted to be sure of a steady supply of arms. But then something happened. . . .
Caedmon, the one who wanted our gift. He had been pressing his suit, while Mircea had been finding arguments to stave him off, to keep us here. And was now wondering why he’d bothered.
I felt a sharp pang at that, the longing of a child for the father who’d never wanted her, who had locked her away—
His head turned abruptly in my direction.
I cursed myself. Stupid! Stupid! I knew better. Emotion was the easiest thing to read, especially if that emotion involved you. He’d laid a trap and I’d fallen into it, and now he was coming this way.
The master I was riding smiled, and bowed. He felt honored; I did not. I had been careless, and now we were being surrounded.
Mircea’s vampires, so easy to pick out in a crowd, their power ghostly white against all the richer colors, started converging on all sides. They looked like spectral angels, perhaps vengeful ones. I looked desperately around for an advantage.
And found it above my head, in a swirl of angry magic from several arguing vamps. Not nearly as big as before; the room was still somewhat cowed from the lashing the consul had dealt the other master. But displeased, quarrelsome. Offense had been given and apology was demanded.
So I jumped, not out this time but up, into the angry clouds, and looked down through the glittering swirls of their power at the master I’d just left, who was bowing lower now and wondering what the great man wanted from him.
The great man wanted me, but didn’t find me. He was angry, but hid it well, making small talk with the vamp while mentally searching the surrounding area. He was worried; he knew what I could do, and better than the rest. I wanted to talk to him, to explain, but that . . . did not always go well. Sometimes he listened; many more times he did not.
And this time, I could not take the risk.
I also couldn’t hold free flight for long, and started looking around for an avatar.
And found something else.
* * *
*
One of the main advantages of being a dhampir is the natural camouflage. We register as human, even to high-level masters who ought to know better, unless they have something approaching Mircea’s facility with the mind. Fortunately, few do.
Unfortunately, all of them are able to smell blood, especially freshly spilled, and I was covered in it. And I didn’t exactly have time for a shower and change. So there was no hope of switching places with a human servant, grabbing a tray of drinks, and just waltzing my way into where I needed to be.
Of course not, I thought grimly.
That would be too easy.
And then there was the small matter of being out of time. Dorina didn’t fuck around. When she decided on something, she went for it, and that little party in Mircea’s rooms had held me up. I needed to get to the consul and I needed to do it now.
So I ran, but not through the dark-as-pitch passageways. I didn’t know them and didn’t have time to figure them out. And, anyway, Marlowe had probably flooded them with his people by now.
Of course, he had people on the main thoroughfare, too, the one cutting a swath from the entrance hall along the front of the building, forming an extended audience chamber. They were so thick there that this had to be it, had to be where the consul was holding court. I couldn’t see her yet, because of the length of the damned thing, and because there were a crap ton of people everywhere. But I could see Marlowe’s masters.
And vice versa.
They were already headed this way, and they were fast, but so was someone else.
And I didn’t mean me.
“Stop them!” I told a nearby guard, one of the ones dressed in Roman-looking armor that were standing at attention everywhere, guarding the Senate. They were there for show more than anything else, standing around all night trying to look shiny and not too bored. But they were bored, and the nearest was now looking hopefully at me.
“Protect me, goddamn it!” I told him. “Do your job!”