It was a staff with an ugly brown knot on the end. I shied back before it could cut out my heart or something. But it followed me until I managed to focus, despite having it almost shoved up my nose. The knot resolved itself into a shrunken head wearing a tiny blue captain’s hat on its thin hair.

“Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress Ming-de, Holy Highness of the Present and Future Time, Lady of Ten Thousand Years, would like to ask you a question,” it said in a bored monotone that managed to convey absolute disgust with me, its mistress, and the world in general.

I blinked. “You’re not Chinese.” The British accent sort of gave it away, that and the fact that the remaining strands of hair were red.

The head gave a long-suffering sigh. “I wouldn’t be much bloody use as an interpreter if I were, now would I? And how did you know?”

“Well, I just—”

“It’s the hat, isn’t it? She makes me wear it so people will ask.”

“Ask what?”

“D’you see? It always works. It’s part of my punishment, to have to tell the story of my tragic life and painful death to every Tom, Dick and Harry before they’ll answer a simple question.”

“Okay. Sorry. What’s the question?”

It eyed me suspiciously. “You don’t want to hear about my tragic life and painful death?”

“Not really.”

It suddenly looked offended. “And why not? My death isn’t interesting enough for you? What would it take, eh? Perhaps if Robespierre was hanging here, damn him, you’d care to have a listen, hmm?”

“I don’t—”

“But a simple East India Company captain who made the mistake of firing on the wrong ship, oh, no, not enough to trouble yourself about?”

“Look!” I said, glaring. “I’m not having a great night here. Tell me, don’t tell me—I don’t care!”

“Well, there’s no cause to yell,” it said huffily. “The mistress simply wants to know the name of your seamstress.”

“What?”

“The mage who enchanted your gown,” it explained, in a tone that made it clear that the biggest trial in the afterlife was dealing with people like me.

“He isn’t…available right now.” Which was true enough, since he hadn’t been born yet.

“Trying to keep the secret all to yourself, eh? Mistress won’t like that,” it said gleefully.

Mircea and Ming-de had been chatting while I talked with the help. I hadn’t even tried to follow their conversation, which was in Mandarin, but I did recognize the phrase “Codex Merlini.” And even if not, Mircea’s suddenly tightened grip would have gotten my attention.

“We’re here for the Codex?” he whispered.

I looked at him, wondering what all the fuss was about. “Yes. I told you—”

“You said a spell book!” Mircea started bowing and murmuring a rapid stream of Chinese and pulling me away from Ming-de.

“That’s what it is!”

“Dulceata?, describing the Codex Merlini as a spell book is roughly the same as calling the Titanic a boat!”

I didn’t get what was going on, but I couldn’t help but notice that we were heading straight for the door. “Wait! Where are we going?”

“Away from here.”

I pulled backwards—why, I don’t know since it did exactly no good at all. “But the bidding is about to start!”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered, just as all the lights went out.

The room hadn’t had much light before, only a few random candles, but now it was pitch-dark. I felt an arm slip around my waist and yelped, before recognizing the thrill of the geis. People were murmuring and milling around on all sides as Mircea made a beeline through the crowd, practically carrying me.

I didn’t understand what was wrong with him; no one seemed happy about the sudden blackout, but nothing threatening appeared to be taking place, either. By the time we reached the stairwell, my eyes had adjusted enough to see by the light my gown threw off. The room was all starlight and shadow and appeared just as before. Until a bunch of dark shapes crashed in through the windows.

Mircea pulled me into his arms and all but flew to the foyer, where we met another half dozen dark shapes coming up. My eyes couldn’t focus on them, but I didn’t think that had anything to do with the lack of light. And then we were back upstairs, in about the same time it would have taken me to shift. Mircea paused at the library landing to avoid the mage who stumbled backwards out the door, Ming-de’s flying fans buzzing around his head like angry wasps. One of them hit a candle sconce in passing and sliced it clean in two.

I glanced in the library door and saw nothing but a firestorm of spells, crashes and yells, all of it too bright to let my eyes pick out any details. Then Mircea grabbed a mage who was blocking the stairwell going up, and threw him downstairs. He hit the group of dark shapes who were all trying to fit up the narrow stairway at the same time, and most of them tumbled backwards. The fans followed like they were on a mission.

By the time I blinked, we were on the next level, where a mage was facing off with the contessa. Her pretty mantilla had expanded into a glittering net that wrapped around him like a spider’s web. Right before we took the last flight of stairs, she jerked him to her, fangs already bared and glistening.

Someone grabbed my foot as we reached the attic level, but Mircea made a backwards kick and I heard the sound of whoever it was tumbling down the stairs. He wrenched open the door to what looked like a servant’s bedroom, got a window open and had us out onto the slick, icy sill before I could protest. Then he paused, staring down at the main entrance below, where several dozen dark figures were heading in the front door. They must have run out of windows to break, I thought blankly.

“Can you do what you did at the casino?” Mircea asked, his voice a lot calmer than it had any right to be under the circumstances.

“What? No, not yet.” The dizziness and nausea of that many shifts in close succession had mostly passed, but I still felt wiped out. I doubted I could have shifted myself, much less two of us.

Mircea didn’t ask any questions, just moved me into a fireman’s carry over his right shoulder. Which left me able to see the cloaked figure who burst into the room behind us. It was the hooded party guest. Still didn’t want to see what was under there, I decided.

“I am going to have to jump, dulceata?,” Mircea said, giving the newcomer an uninterested glance.

“Jump? What?” I was sure I’d heard wrong.

The cloak sent a spell hurtling down the stairwell, then barred the door by shoving a heavy wardrobe against it. “If you’re going to jump, do it, or get out of the way!” it snarled.

And that’s when I began to wonder when I’d gotten tipped down the rabbit hole. Stress, I thought vaguely. That has to be it. “I am waiting for the rest of the mages to enter in order to plant the bomb,” Mircea replied tersely.

“What bomb?” The cloaked figure and I said it at the same time.

“The one the war mages of the Paris coven are setting to destroy this house and, they hope, the Codex along with it.”

No wonder he’d freaked out down there, or what passed for it for him. He must have heard about this evening somewhere. And if it was interesting enough for people to tell stories about, I really didn’t want to hang around. But I couldn’t leave. Not when we were so damn close!

“Why destroy it?” I asked. “Don’t they want it for themselves?”

“Yes, which is why they’re currently searching. But if they don’t find it, they will destroy this house and everything in it, rather than let it fall into the hands of the dark.”

“The Codex isn’t here,” the cloak said, muscling its way out the window. Now there were three of us perched on the icy roof. “The coven is going to kill dozens of people needlessly!”

“I doubt that,” Mircea said, nodding to where a fight had started in front of the house between the mages and the party guests, most of whom seemed to have gotten out of the death trap of a library just fine.

I flinched back as Parindra zipped past, so fast that the breeze ruffled my hair; it looked like he’d found another use for his carpet. He tossed something onto the crowd of mages below that exploded in a yellow haze that ate through their shields like acid and set a lot of them ablaze. It also caused the back of the barge to catch fire, which spooked the elephant.

The beast let out an unhappy bellow and went on a rampage, picking up a mage with its trunk and tossing him against a nearby house, which he hit with a sickening crunch. The attack scattered the rest of the mages, who went running in all directions to avoid being crushed by the elephant or by the heavy howdah, which had slipped halfway off its back and was getting slung around like a jewel-encrusted battering ram.

“That should do it,” Mircea said.

“Wait. What are you talking about? Do what?” I asked, and felt his muscles tense beneath me. The commotion had left the area directly below us momentarily free of mages, I realized, and Mircea intended to take advantage of it. “Oh, no. No, no. See, I’m starting to develop a problem with heights and—”

“Hold on,” he said, and we were airborne.

I didn’t even have time to scream. I felt a rush of cold wind, a brief weightless feeling, and then we smashed into the deck of the ship. Mircea took the brunt of the fall, but it tore me out of his arms and sent me careening into the cloak, which had apparently jumped right along with us. It didn’t feel like a vamp under there—no faint tingle was running up my spine—but how the hell had a human managed that jump and lived?

I didn’t have time to find out, because a spell hit the barge, making it shudder and buck beneath us, sending both of us reeling into the railing, right beside where a mage was trying to climb on board. A guy dressed like Ming-de’s attendants ran over and started stabbing at him with a spear, but the mage had managed to retain his shields, and all it did was piss him off. He came over the side, and he and the guard went down in a tangle of limbs, before rolling straight into me and the cloak. I got a foot to the stomach, which knocked the wind out of me, but the cloak fared worse, its head slamming hard into the heavy wooden railing of the barge.