I’d thought I’d get used to its absence after a while, the way you get used to a tooth that’s been pulled. But so far, that hadn’t happened. It was funny; I’d never been able to feel the ward, which had no more weight than the tattoo it resembled. But I could feel its absence, could trace the path where the lines ought to have been, like a brand on my skin.
“But that also didn’t work,” I said, because Pritkin was waiting for a response.
“Which is my point. His allies have to know that we wouldn’t put the ward back on you. You’re safer without a direct conduit to your power plastered on your back. And yet they remain focused on you, despite having a thousand other targets.”
“A thousand other targets who didn’t just help to kill their buddy,” I pointed out. “This could be about revenge.”
“If they knew about the role you played, yes. But how would they? The Circle contained any mention of the aborted invasion in the press, to avoid a general panic. And no one was there at the end but us.”
“There was Sal,” I reminded him. She’d been a friend—or so I’d thought—who had chosen the wrong side. Or been ordered onto it by Tony, my old guardian, who also happened to be her master. It had cost her her life and given me one more reason to hate the son of a bitch.
Like I’d needed another one.
“Yes, but she was dead before Apollo was,” Pritkin reminded me. “She couldn’t have told anyone anything. Of course, by now, his associates must have realized that he was defeated, but there is no way for them to know that you were the cause.”
I shook my head. Pritkin knew a lot about a lot of things, but his understanding of vampires was . . . pretty bad, actually. He’d picked up a few things from hanging out with me, but the gaps in his knowledge still showed once in a while. Like now.
“Sal was a master vamp,” I told him. “Not a very strong one, but still. It carries certain privileges—like mental communication. I don’t know if she could contact Tony all the way in Faerie, but she might have told someone else—”
“Say she did. Or that they otherwise learned or guessed. If we presume revenge as a motive, why now? They’ve had all month.”
“The coronation is coming up—”
“And if they wished to send a message, they would have waited to attack during the ceremony itself. Not now, not here, where there was no one to see. Where, even if they were successful, it could be passed off as a tragic accident, not a victory for the other side.”
I crossed my arms. “Okay. What’s your theory?”
“That this might not have to do with the war at all. That it could be personal.”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant. I’d had the same thought as soon as I heard the word “Fey.” Because in addition to all the people on the other side in the war—the Black Circle of dark mages, a bunch of rogue vampires and whomever the god had been buddies with—I’d also managed to make an enemy out of the Dark Fey king.
I’m just special like that.
“But there’s no way to know for certain,” he said, “not without more information. Which is why I need permission to go away for a day, perhaps two.”
There were several things wrong with that sentence, but I latched on to the most pressing one first. “You’re going away now?”
“I don’t have a choice,” he told me, searching in his coat for something. “I’ve already called my contacts here, but given the limited description we have, they wouldn’t even venture a guess as to what we’re dealing with.”
“If you’ve already contacted them, then why do you—” I stopped, a really nasty idea surfacing. “You’re not going back there!”
“That is exactly what I am doing. Cassie.” He caught my wrist as I started to rise. “It will be all right.”
“That’s—Do you remember last time?” I asked incredulously.
Mac, one of Pritkin’s friends, had died defending me on the one and only time I’d ventured into the land of the Fey. Pritkin, myself and Francoise, a human woman who had been stuck there for years, had barely escaped with our lives—and only after I’d promised the Fey more than I could deliver.
“We made a deal,” I whispered furiously. “If you go back, they’re going to expect you to honor it. And you know we can’t—”
“I’m not going to court. I’m merely slipping in to speak with some old contacts.”
“And if they catch you?”
“They won’t.”
“But if they do?”
“Listen to me. The ability to possess someone is a rare talent, even among the spirit world, and few manage it so easily. This thing, whatever it is, must be very powerful.”
“Yes, but—”
“If I don’t know what it is, I cannot fight it. Neither can you.” He pressed something into my hand. “But this may help.”
I looked down at a small, gathered bag made out of linen. It had a red thread wrapped around the top, with enough length to allow it to be used as a necklace. Only nobody would bother, because the thing reeked like old Limburger.
“A protective charm,” Pritkin said unnecessarily, because I’d worn something like it once before. Only I didn’t recall it being much help the only time I’d run up against the Fey.
I didn’t recall anything being much help.
“If this creature is so powerful, you think this will stop it?” I demanded.
“No. But it will buy you time. Seconds only, but that is all you need to shift away. Keep your servant on watch when you sleep; when you’re awake, keep your shields up at all times. You’ll know if an attack comes. If it does, shift immediately—spatially, temporally, I don’t care. Just get out. It cannot hurt you—”
“If it can’t find me,” I finished dully.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can manage it. And then we’ll formulate a plan for killing this thing.”
I stared at the little sachet, talisman, whatever it was in my hand. It felt heavy, like there might be something made of iron in there. And faintly greasy, as if some of the contents were sweating through the material. Or maybe that was my palm.
“And if I order you to stay?” I asked, after a few moments.
Pritkin didn’t say anything. I looked up but I couldn’t see him very well. He’d leaned forward, out of the sign’s bloody light, and only a little filtered in from the lounge. But when he finally answered, his voice was calm.
“I would stay. And protect you as best I can.”
And possibly get killed in the process, because he didn’t know what he was fighting. It wasn’t said aloud, but it didn’t need to be. I’d felt that thing go after him. I might have been the chief target, but he’d been on the list somewhere, too.
And that wasn’t acceptable.
But neither was the alternative. I hugged my arms around myself and stared out at the night without seeing it. I was seeing another face instead, the cheerful, scruffy, laughing face of another war mage, one who hadn’t come back. One who would never come back.
I didn’t realize Pritkin had moved until he crouched in front of me. Green eyes, almost translucent in the darkness, met mine. “I wouldn’t be going if I didn’t think you would be all right,” he told me. “It is doubtful that this thing will try the same approach again, now that it knows—”
“I’m not worried about me,” I whispered viciously. And as soon as I said it, I knew it was the truth. Apparently, the surefire antidote for your own fear is concern for someone else.
Pritkin looked surprised, the way he always did at the idea that anyone might actually care about him. It made me want to hit him. Of course, right then I wanted to do that anyway.
“Nothing is going to happen,” he repeated. “But even if it did, you don’t need me. You don’t need—”
“That isn’t true!”
“Yes, it is.” He looked at me and his lips quirked. “You can’t fire a gun worth a damn. You hit like a girl. Your knowledge of magic is rudimentary at best. And you act like I’m torturing you if I make you run more than a mile.”