"We have a problem," I told Pritkin, choking back an absurd urge to giggle at the understatement.

His eyes narrowed to pale slits. "What problem?" Since he forced the words past clenched teeth, it looked like he'd already figured out that he was going to hate this. That was good; it saved time.

"Billy says the halls are almost empty because everyone's in the vampire area. They're executing someone tonight, and it's drawn quite a crowd.”

"Executing who?" Pritkin's icy green eyes stared into mine and I smiled weakly, remembering the last time he and Tomas met. To say that they weren't pals was missing the mark a bit. People don't generally try to behead their friends.

"Um, well, actually ..." I sighed. "It's Tomas.”

I couldn't keep myself from wincing slightly, but Pritkin barely reacted, other than to look slightly relieved. "Good. Then this should be simpler than I'd anticipated." He noticed my expression and his frown returned. "Why does this constitute a problem?”

I swallowed. I'd have preferred a little more time to lead up to it, like a year or two, but I couldn't afford to stall. Every second that passed was dangerous for Tomas. Jack liked to play with his victims before finishing them off, and no one would be happy with a short show. But it had been dark for well over an hour. Jack could do a lot of damage in that time.

I looked at Pritkin and worked up a smile. It didn't seem to help, and I gave it up. "Because we, uh, sort of have to rescue him.”

Chapter 9

Pritkin looked as if he was trying to determine whether I was genuinely crazy, or just temporarily insane. "Do you remember what that place contains?" he asked in a savage undertone, gesturing at the dark outline of MAGIC. "If we had every war mage in the corps, it wouldn't be enough!”

Billy was nodding violently behind Pritkin's head. "Listen to the mage, Cass. He's talking sense.”

I didn't even try to persuade Billy to do something for Tomas. He'd never liked him, even before the betrayal, which because of our arrangement he viewed as an attack on himself as well as on me. I glanced at Mac but didn't see much in the way of encouragement. He seemed like a fairly sympathetic guy, but he was also Pritkin's friend, not to mention that there was no love lost between mages and vamps. They tolerated each other, but they didn't risk their necks for each other.

I sighed. "If none of you want to help, then wait here. I'll manage without you." Tomas was not dying tonight.

"He tried to kill you!" Pritkin had apparently decided to reason with me.

"Actually, he tried to kill you. He thought he was helping me; he's just not that bright sometimes.”

Pritkin moved, but Mac was suddenly there, a hand on his friend's chest. "Throwing her over your shoulder isn't going to help, John," he said quietly. "I don't know what this vampire is to her, but if we let him die I think we can kiss the Pythia's help goodbye.”

"She is not Pythia yet," Pritkin said, teeth clenched so tight that I don't know how he got the words out. "She's a foolish child who—”

I started down the incline, wondering if I really had gone mad, but within seconds a Pritkin-shaped bulk appeared in front of me, blocking my way. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded, looking genuinely confused. "Tell me you're not in love with him—that you're not about to risk our lives because of some vampire's seduction techniques!”

I paused. I wasn't sure what to call the stew of emotions Tomas inspired, but I didn't think it was love. "He was my friend," I said, trying to explain so Pritkin would understand— which was difficult since I wasn't sure I did. "He betrayed me, but in his own warped view of things he thought he was helping me. He endangered my life, but he also saved it. I guess we're sort of even.”

"Then you don't owe him anything.”

"This isn't about what I owe him." And it wasn't. I wanted to rescue Tomas, but, I realized with sudden clarity, I also wanted something else. "It's about making a statement. Someone who is known to be important to me is being publicly humiliated, tortured and killed. Yet no one— not the mages, not the Senate, not a single individual in the supernatural community—ever once thought to ask my permission!”

"Your permission?" Pritkin looked dumbfounded. "And precisely why would they need that?”

I looked at him and shook my head. Screw this. If I had to deal with all the downsides of the office, it was about time I had a few of the perks, too. "Because I'm Pythia," I said quietly, and shifted.

I had assumed the Senate would be using its own chamber for this, and I'd been right. The usual echoing vastness was empty no longer. The huge mahogany slab that served as the Senate table was still there, although it had a new purpose now. The chairs that normally lined one side had been moved, arranged in a semicircle in front of the table. Behind them were row upon row of benches, crowded with weres, mages and vamps. The only no-shows were the Fey, unless they looked so much like the mages that I couldn't tell them apart. After my experience at Dante's, I kind of doubted that.

I had landed right where I'd planned, directly beside Tomas. I wasn't interested in subtlety, although there would have been no way to manage it in any case; I had to touch him in order to shift us away. Jack had stepped back a few feet when I flashed in, and to my surprise he made no move to grab me.

My eyes automatically scanned the rows, looking for one face in particular. I found him easily, sitting at the end of the front row of seats in the position nearest me. Mircea's stylish black suit was perfect in cut and fit, and the pale gray banded-collar shirt he wore under it was silk. Platinum cufflinks that shimmered faintly in the lamplight constituted his only jewelry. He looked as elegant and in control as always, but his aura was fluctuating wildly. It spiked when he saw me, but he made no move forward.

Behind him, many of the spectators had overturned their chairs in haste to get to their feet. The Consul stood with one hand up, some sort of signal to hold them off, I guessed. Each group's area inside MAGIC was sacrosanct, the same way an embassy on foreign soil belongs to its host government. The weres and mages had to behave themselves on vamp territory or they violated the treaties that protected them and it was open season.

I felt Sheba wake up and start licking a paw on my left shoulder blade. She was ready to rumble—too bad there was only one of her and about a thousand of them.

"Cassandra, you have returned to us." As always, the Consul appeared perfectly serene. The only movement was her outfit, which consisted of bare skin covered by a lot of writhing snakes. It was little ones this time, none longer than a finger, who slipped over her like a shimmering second skin. "We have been concerned for you.”

Something suddenly rippled across me, an odd, skin-prickling sensation. It didn't hurt, but I didn't know what it was, and under the circumstances that wasn't good. I decided not to hang around and find out.

"I bet. Wish I could stay and chat, but maybe next time." I gripped Tomas' shoulder tighter and tried to shift, but nothing happened. I didn't feel the slightest surge of my power, even though it had been bright and strong just moments before.

"You cannot shift, Cassandra," the Consul said in her habitual even tones. She had a good voice, well modulated and slightly husky. A guy would have probably found it sexy; I was having a very different reaction.

Tomas moved slightly and I looked down at him. "It's a trap," he croaked weakly. "They said you would come for me. I didn't believe it—there was no reason. Why did you come back?" The anguished cry seemed to sap his strength and he collapsed into unconsciousness. I stared at the Consul, who looked calmly back, no hint of apology visible on that beautiful face.

Tomas was alive, but his wounds were bad—very bad. He was laid out on the dark wood like some bizarre form of art—something Picasso might have painted if he was in the habit of putting his nightmares on canvas. This might have been a trap, but it was obvious that, if I hadn't shown up, the Senate would have let Jack kill him. They probably planned to do so anyway, now that he'd served his purpose.

I narrowed my eyes at the Consul, but she made no response. I'd seen her kill two ancient vampires with little more than a look, when they were farther from her than I currently was. But I felt no sting of desert sand against my face, no warning rush of power. It suddenly occurred to me that, in a room full of magical creatures, I felt no magic at all.

"You used a null bomb on me, didn't you?”

The Consul smiled. It wasn't a nice expression. "You overlooked a few.”

Considering everything, I didn't feel much like apologizing for taking their stuff. "Well, damn. I'll try to be more thorough next time.”

"We don't have time for verbal sparring," an old mage interrupted, glaring at me. "The effect won't last much longer, and you know we can't afford to explode another—”

One of the Senate members, a brunette in hoop skirts, picked him up by the throat, choking off his voice as she hoisted him into the air. She looked inquiringly at the Consul, but the Senate leader shook her head. The damage was done. All I needed was to stall long enough for the spell to break. Then my power could get Tomas and me out of this. Unfortunately, I had no idea how long that might take.

"Look, all I want is Tomas," I told her. "You were about to kill him, so I guess you won't miss him.”

My attempt to start a dialogue fell flat. "I wish this were not necessary, Cassandra," the Consul said quietly. She glanced at the vampires around her, some of the most powerful on the planet. "Take her," she said simply.

I didn't try to run. There was no point. Under other circumstances, it would almost have been funny. What did she think I was going to do that would require half a dozen first-level masters to stop? Without my power and with my ward acting up, the youngest vamp in the place could make me into dinner with no problem at all.