“I’ve listened enough.”
“You haven’t listened at all—you never did!” She appealed to Lydia, whose black robes stood out in stark contrast to the more colorful garb around her. “You know how she is—”
The little white-haired woman nodded. “Aye, I do. And I know how ye were, too, always so softhearted. That’s why I trained her. This job takes a thick skin—”
“And a clear head,” Gertie added, her eyes still fixed on me.
“Damn it all! I haven’t been influenced!” Hildegarde thundered.
“And if ye had, what would ye say?” Lydia asked her, not unkindly.
“And what about me?” Abigail demanded. “Have I been influenced, too? You can’t believe—”
“I believe what I’ve seen!” Gertie said, throwing out a hand in my direction. “Five times she’s escaped me! Five times I’ve had to hunt her down—”
“And who else besides a Pythia could do that?” Hildegarde demanded.
“A rogue heir,” Jo said quickly. “I misspoke before. She was an acolyte, until I recently promoted her, something I can assure you—”
“You lie!” I said, feeling my hands clench and blood flood my face. God, how I wanted to—
“Don’t do it, Cass,” Billy said, suddenly zooming in.
I stared upward in surprise, and no little anger. “You took your time!”
“We got held up. First with the posse and then—”
“And then what?”
“—with some rogue spirits headed this way.”
“Somebody had given them a power boost,” the colonel said, zooming in behind him, his mustache twitching. “And we’d expended most of our extra. Otherwise, three on two is hardly sporting—”
“But delicious,” Daisy said, burping.
“You see?” Jo asked. “To my horror, I discovered that she’s a necromancer, using illegal skills in unprecedented ways—”
“You’re the necromancer!” I said, furious.
“Then whose ghosts are those?” she asked sweetly.
“We’ll show you,” the colonel snarled, diving for Jo before I could stop him. Forcing me to snatch him out of the air, to keep this from descending into chaos.
And then pausing, when I noticed everyone staring at me.
“That . . . probably wasn’t your best move,” Billy murmured as Johanna practically crowed.
“See?” Her eyes flashed. “Did you see? I told you—”
“Aye, we saw,” Lydia said as the murmuring got louder.
“Cassie—” Abigail said, looking appalled.
And yeah, I screwed up. “I—I am a necromancer,” I told them, because obviously. “But I’m Pythia, too—”
“They would never make such a creature Pythia,” the leopard-draped woman said. She wasn’t speaking English, but the spell translated her voice just fine. And it looked like everyone else was using something similar, because there was a lot of nodding suddenly.
“Please!” I said, trying to think of something that would convince them, something that wasn’t “the fey are about to bring back a god,” because that wasn’t likely to help. But what else did I have? “The fey are about to bring back a god,” I said, with a sinking feeling. “If you don’t help me—”
“I already heard that story,” Gertie said, walking toward me. “Do better.”
“How?” I spread out my hands. “How do I prove I’m Pythia? How does any—”
“She’s not a Pythia,” Jo spat. “She’s a filthy necromancer who infiltrated the court, and I formally request that you help me—”
“One more word,” Hildegarde told her, “and I swear—”
“Be silent! Both of you!”
Gertie must have done something to enhance her voice, because it echoed everywhere, enough to bring down a filtering of powder from the rafters. I looked at her through the veil of snow, and knew this was my last chance. Come up with something now, something she’d believe, or she’d take me back. Or, considering her expression, kill me where I stood.
“Well?” she demanded.
I flashed on an image of Pritkin, somewhere fighting alone. But he couldn’t do this alone. None of us could. It had been the same ever since I started this job, clinging on by my fingernails, always feeling off balance, like I was barely treading water, and then only because of the people holding me up: Jonas and Pritkin, Tami and Rhea, Marco and Caleb, Billy and Casanova, and even the consul at times—
And one I’d known long before all of them.
My eyes widened.
Gertie frowned. “What?”
“There is something that unites us,” I said. “All of us for the last six hundred years, at least. One shared experience that she doesn’t know about, but I do!”
“Don’t listen to her!” Jo said, grabbing my arm. “She’s a liar! She was always—”
I jerked away, scanning the crowd. And spied a dark, curly head and an elegant gown, but the same pair of cheap tinsel earrings. “Eudoxia!”
The head came up.
“Mircea visited court, when you were still living with Berenice—do you remember?”
She nodded.
“He helped you feed the dogs,” I said, concentrating on that fleeting memory. “He wanted to see the Lady—”
“But she was sick,” Eudoxia said, and then flushed when everyone suddenly turned to look at her. “She was sick a lot.”
“Yet he got in eventually. He always does. And then he came to see you, after you moved to Paris.” I searched my mind, trying to remember. “He brought you a—a necklace.” I tapped my throat, seeing again the lustrous chain. “Big pearls set in gold—”
“Yes.” She looked surprised. “I don’t wear it much. It’s . . . not really my style.”
“—and he asked for something, didn’t he?”
She nodded. “Yes, he wanted—”
“Don’t say it!”
She paused, her mouth still open, while I looked for—“Isabeau!”
“Yes,” she said, before I could ask. “He came to see me, too. And stayed . . . for a while.”
“Because he wanted something, the same thing he always wants. The same thing he’s asked of every Pythia for six hundred years.” I whirled on Gertie. “The same thing he asked of you. I can tell you what that was. Can she?”
I gestured at Jo, who backed up slightly to keep from getting hit, while everyone looked at her.
“Well?” Gertie demanded. “What of it?”
“I—this is ridiculous,” Jo said, still smiling. “I . . . receive so many petitioners. We all do. You can’t expect me to recall one man out of thousands—”
“Not a man,” I said, advancing on her. “And Lord Mircea is memorable.”
“Can’t argue with that,” someone said.
“Every Pythia for six hundred years has received the same vampire with the same request, soon after their accession if not before. And not for a fleeting visit. He comes to charm, to entice, to bribe if necessary, anything to get what he wants. What does he want?”
“How would I know?” Jo snarled. “He didn’t come to see me yet—”
“No, he didn’t, did he? He might butter up another acolyte, but you—you were just a political appointment, there to round out the court and buy the Circle a favor. He wouldn’t waste time with you—”