“Romania?”
“Well, it wasn’t called that then. But yeah, the Carpathian Mountains are a bitch if you don’t know them. Or the language. Or the customs. And these guys were locals, meaning they had every pass watched, every cave booby-trapped, every town filled with supporters—”
“Why not just leave them there, then? How much trouble could they make in the Carpathians?”
“Plenty, as it turned out. That was just their base, because it was hard to get to. But they sent people out all the time to hire assassins, buy mercenaries, even talk to other senates, offering to start up a rebellion if they’d invade and take out the new regime. Something had to be done.”
“And that something was Mircea?”
Jules nodded. “He and the consul met back in Venice, when he was really young. I don’t know all the details, but he must have made an impression. ’Cause when the whole thing in Wallachia started up again, she thought of him.”
I frowned, wondering why I’d never heard about this. But then, there was a huge amount about Mircea I’d never heard. Part of that was down to the whole never-having-time-to-talk thing. And part was vampire reserve, which I swear he’d made into a fetish. Prying any information out of him was a serious challenge.
Especially when he was so very good at changing the subject.
And his vamps had mostly taken after their master. Those less skilled in diplomacy had perfected a wide-eyed innocence or a stony silence, neither of which did me any good. But Jules wasn’t a vamp anymore, so . . .
Jules wasn’t a vamp anymore.
“Tell me about it,” I encouraged him, and he grinned delightedly.
Maybe because people usually spent their time trying to shut him up.
“Of course, he was a lot younger in those days, so he was mostly there as an adjunct to Anthony,” he said, talking about the current European consul. “Did you know he and our Lady were co-consuls back then? They ruled Europe together.”
I nodded.
“Well, her job mostly involved sorting out the political mess her predecessor had left, by basically not doing a damn thing for years. Except taking bribes to let his masters do whatever they wanted, while he almost never even visited his own territory. He liked to live out in the desert, somewhere in Africa, I heard. But the result was a government that basically didn’t govern.”
“Which is why everybody was rebelling.”
“Not everybody.” Jules shook his head. “A lot of people liked the idea of a little law and order for a change, but those who’d been profiting off the old system weren’t so happy. Some masqueraded as supporters, waiting to slip in the knife at the first opportunity. Those were the Lady’s problem. Anthony’s job was to root out the ones in open rebellion, and for that he needed somebody who knew the area.”
“But if Anthony commanded before, why not have him do the same thing now? Why does Mircea—”
“Because he did just as much of the fighting. He didn’t get the praise, of course. You know Anthony—or maybe you don’t,” Jules said, seeing my face. “But trust me, it’s not his style to let someone else steal the glory. But the master did get a senate seat out of it, later on, after the Lady found out that one of the knife-and-rib guys was her closest adviser, and personally eviscerated him.”
He grinned suddenly.
“What?”
“They say she did it at dinner, gutting him and serving up his still-beating heart on a silver salver, right there at the table! What do you think goes best with a dish like that? Mustard, or a nice wine sauce? Or maybe mint—”
He stopped, because the baby had started making those noises again.
“What?” Jules asked, and then remembered. “I didn’t mean it,” he said quickly, although it didn’t help this time. We’d stopped dead in the middle of the concourse, and were in danger of being run over.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jules demanded, prodding the vamp.
“What’s wrong with him? You just told me he died maybe a couple weeks ago! And now he should be somewhere quiet, where he can absorb everything and rest. But instead he’s here”—I gestured around—“in the middle of crazy, scary vamps, one of whom is telling stories about beating hearts and salvers!”
“I’m not a vamp anymore—”
“Jules!”
“All right, all right. I’m sorry.”
“Tell him.”
“It’s—that probably wasn’t true,” he said to the terrified vamp. “It was just a story I heard. And I thought it sounded unlikely—”
“See?” I asked the vamp.
“—cutting it out and sending it to his next of kin is really much more her style—”
“Jules!”
“—but it doesn’t hurt to advertise, just in case anybody else has the same idea. So that was the story they put around. See? Nothing to worry about.” Jules clapped him on the back.
The vamp looked tragically at both of us, like meeting us had been the worst thing that had ever happened to him, including death. But at least the noise had stopped. And a moment later, we started to move again.
I turned my attention back to Jules. “That still doesn’t answer my question. Why was Anthony not named Enforcer instead? I know he’s a consul—”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. Most of the choice seats in the combined senate will go to consuls. You think they’re going to let their own subjects decide policy that they have to follow?”
“So, what’s the problem?”
Jules shrugged. “Everybody hates him? He’s had two thousand years to make enemies. From what I hear, he’s done a good job.”
“And nobody hates Mircea?”
“I wouldn’t say nobody; you know how vamps are,” said the guy who had been one a week ago. “But he’s got more friends than the reverse, which is kind of unusual. And even more people think he’s sort of trustworthy.”
“Trustworthy?” I didn’t think vamps knew that term.
Jules smiled. “Meaning he’s slightly less likely than the next guy to screw their forces over, to give his senate an advantage once the war ends.”
“Trust vampires to think of that now,” I muttered.
“You have to look ahead. Everyone else will.”
“That still doesn’t explain why he had to agree. He’s done enough for the alliance!”
Mircea was the consul’s chief adviser and go-to ambassador. The one people had started calling a miracle worker after he successfully achieved a union—if only for the war—of the six vampire senates. No other vamp alive would have even tried that, and he’d pulled it off. And this was the thanks he got?
“I’m not sure it was exactly a choice,” Jules said dryly.
“Mircea isn’t a baby vamp! He’s a senator who has put his life on the line more than once. He could say no if he felt like it—”
“It’s not that simple—”
“Simple or not, it’s better than dying!”
“Turn in here,” Jules said abruptly, pulling on my ride. And redirecting us into a small alcove with a phone.
“Silence spell,” he said, gesturing around. “On the outside. Which doesn’t mean the phone’s not tapped, but we’re not using it.”
“So why are we in here?”