“Because they don’t know where Jo is, either! Nobody knows where she is—or when,” I added darkly, because one of my now deceased rogues had claimed that she was going after the same godly weapon that I was.
But if Jo was trying to shift back fifteen hundred years, she was going to be trying awhile. I was assuming that was why my power was ignoring her, that she was shifting in baby steps, ten or fifteen years at a time, whatever an acolyte’s thin stream of access would allow. And not getting anywhere. That or she was dead, too, because time travel was damn dangerous, as I ought to know. But that still left me with Lizzie to worry about, and I was worried.
“I need to know where Lizzie is, Caleb. I need to know what Jonas did with her, if she’s secure—”
“I’m sure she is—”
“Are you?” I swallowed pork. “Because I’m not. Jonas took her away, and didn’t even bother to tell me where—”
“You just said you weren’t there.”
“—or to tell anyone else! Or to wait for me to come back—”
“And do what with her? You don’t have the facilities—”
“And he does?”
“He has more than you. And maybe he thought that’s what you’d want—”
“So he asks me!”
I glared up at him, and for a minute he glared back. War mages—some war mages—tended to be fanatically loyal, especially to a guy they’d followed for decades. It was why Jonas’ crazy coup of the Silver Circle had worked; a lot of mages had chosen to follow him or to just putz around on the sidelines rather than support his corrupt successor. At the time I’d been grateful for that, since coups tended to be a lot bloodier than ours had been. But now . . .
It could be really inconvenient now.
“Jonas is in Britain,” I told him steadily. “That’s all I know. I need to know more than that.”
Caleb didn’t say anything.
“Caleb—”
“We’re getting perilously close to me crossing a line here,” he said quietly.
“You didn’t cross it when you helped me break Pritkin out of hell?”
“That was different. I’m supposed to help the Pythia. It’s part of the oath.” He winced slightly. “And the old man never specifically said not to break into a hell zone. . . .”
“So when I asked you said yes. Okay, I’m asking now.”
“Yeah, but what you’re asking now is that I give you classified information, which I don’t have, by the way. I don’t know where your acolyte is—”
“She isn’t my acolyte. She’s Agnes’ acolyte, and she’s about to be the dark mages’ acolyte if I don’t find her!”
“That’s a leap—”
“I don’t think so.” I put the plate down, both because I’d finished inhaling the contents and because Caleb was too far away. I wanted to see his eyes. I climbed onto the sofa again and leaned over the counter. He shied back slightly. I inched forward, and his back hit the fridge. It should have been funny, the big, bad war mage running from the skinny little blonde, only neither of us was laughing.
“This morning, if I hadn’t had help, I would have died,” I said quietly. “I wouldn’t have Ramboed my way out of it; I would have died. And if Rambo had been there, so would he. I can’t fight this war alone.”
“No one’s asking you to.”
“Aren’t they?”
Caleb crossed his arms and shifted position slightly, putting his eyes in shadow again. “Jonas has to work with you. You’re the Pythia. He doesn’t have a choice.”
“Well, he’s been acting a lot lately like a guy who thinks he does. He’s been acting like a guy who thinks he can run things on his own, can run this war on his own, and that isn’t going to work. Not for any of us,” I added when he opened his mouth to object. “We work together or we die together, Caleb. This morning showed that if anything ever did. But Jonas can’t or won’t see it, so I’m asking you—”
“Cassie—”
“—I’m asking you, as Pythia, for two things: Lizzie’s location and the recipe. Can you get them?”
“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”
“I can’t afford to. Can you get them?”
He closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. It didn’t seem to help. “Honestly? I don’t know. I don’t know where your potion is any more than I know where they have the girl.”
“But you can find out?”
Dark eyes finally met mine, lit up by a stray beam when he raised his head, but I couldn’t read them. Caleb was usually more emotional than some of his war mage buddies, more human, more willing to think for himself instead of blindly following orders. But tonight he was as stoical as I’d ever seen him. And as closed off.
“I suppose you’re planning to shift back six months if I do, and find a maker? It takes that long to brew.”
“I know. That’s not a problem.”
“But something else might be.”
He stopped with just that, so I knew this wasn’t going to be good. “Such as?”
“That potion. I know you think you need it, and I know it doesn’t actually feed you any magic itself.”
“But?”
“But it allows you to access an almost unlimited stream, doesn’t it? The Pythian power is about the most potent source of magical power around, and the Tears let you basically mainline the stuff—”
I blinked at him. “You’re afraid I’ll get addicted?”
“I’ve seen how fast it gets someone. Half those guys you fought today probably didn’t start out thinking, when I grow up, I want to be a dark mage—”
“Caleb.”
“Some of them started with illegal skills from birth, and didn’t like the restrictions we put on them. Some made bad choices when they were young, and just kept falling further and further behind. And some—”
“Caleb.”
“—started out thinking they’d just take a hit or two, no big deal, just a little to help them heal faster, or study better, or impress a girl—”
“Caleb! I’m not a junkie!”
“No. But you are Pythia.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning nobody talks about it, okay? But I’ve seen how fast it burns them up. How fast we go through Pythias. Just normal use shortens their lives considerably, and what you’ve been using isn’t normal.”
I laughed, a short, ugly burst that escaped before I could bite it back. “So you’re worried about my longevity?”
“Shouldn’t I be?” He ran a hand over his head. “Look, I want John back, too. I think I’ve proven that. But you’re the only Pythia we’ve got and we’re at war. You need to stay safe. He’d say the same if he was here. You know he would.”
I just stared at him for a moment. It was times like these that I felt the gulf between us, the widening gulf between me and everybody around me. Maybe because I’d been at the center of this thing for too long, maybe because I hadn’t had enough rest—or any—lately, maybe because I was crazy. Or they were, which was what it was really starting to feel like.
“Tell me something, Caleb. Were you in the group dispatched to Dante’s this morning?”
“Of course. I think every war mage in Vegas was.”
“How long did it take you to get there?”
“From the time we got the call? Twenty-two minutes. It’s something of a record: that many people over that distance—”
“I’m glad to hear it. We lasted nineteen,” I said, and shifted.
Chapter Fifteen
“Get off the road.” Rosier gripped my arm.