«What?» I eased back from the sybil and her knife, which also allowed me to back away from whoever the newcomer was.
«The one on your computer,» the woman continued. «At your office. That was clever, don't you think?» She peered at Louis-Cesar but made no move towards him. Her big blue eyes came back to me and her sweet little face took on a somewhat peevish air. «Well? Don't I at least rate a thank-you for saving your life? The obituary was real, you know. If you hadn't left your office when you did, Rasputin's men would have found you. You'd have managed to get away from them, but a couple of streets over you would have encountered the vampires sent by that Antonio person and been shot. I brought the obit forward to warn you. Clever, wasn't it?»
«Who are you?» I realized the truth the same time I asked the question, but I wanted to hear her say it.
She smiled, and her dimples were almost as big as Louis-Cesar's. «My name is Agnes, although no one uses it anymore. Sometimes, I don't think they even remember.»
«You're the Pythia.»
«Right in one.»
«But… but you look younger than me. They told me you were on your death bed, that you're really old.»
She gave a small shrug. It caused me to notice what she was wearing—a long, high-necked gown much like those Eugenie used to have made for me. It looked like something out of a tea party circa 1880. «Right again, I'm afraid. In fact, it is quite possible that this little trip will do me in. My power has been fading for a while, and four hundred years is a lot to manage.» She didn't sound very upset about her impending demise. «Anyway, you'll learn how to manipulate your spirit to look any way you want after a while. I prefer to remember myself as I was. In fact, in recent years, I've spent more time out of that wrinkled old hulk than in it.» She flexed her fingers. «Arthritis, you know.»
I stared at her. I'd somehow expected the Pythia to be more, well, regal. «What are you doing here?»
Agnes laughed. «Solving a problem, what else?» She bent over to look in the distorted face of the woman about to plunge a dagger into me. I'd moved, but the sybil hadn't; the face was still set in a scowl and the knife was caught halfway through its arc. «I spent twenty years training this one. You wouldn't think it to look at her, would you? Twenty years and look what I have to show for it.» She shook her head. «I'm here because this mess is partly my fault. I chose your mother as my apprentice. I trained her for almost a decade. I loved her like a daughter. And when she took up with your father, I forbade it, telling myself that I was doing her a favor. He was a member of the vampire mafia, for God's sake! Hardly a fit match for my beautiful creation.»
«I don't understand.»
«I could have found her!» Crystalline tears glistened in Agnes' big blue eyes. «I told myself, if she didn't care anything about her calling, if she could throw it all away so easily, I didn't need her. I could start afresh, could choose another apprentice, make another shining star… only, of course, I couldn't. I was too proud to admit that it hadn't been my tutelage that made Lizzy what she was, but her own innate talent. I didn't go after her, and that vampire boss of your father's had her killed to get to you.» She covered her face and wept.
I just stood there. Did she actually expect me to sympathize? I didn't feel like kicking her when she was down, especially not if she really was on her deathbed, but I also didn't feel very comforting. I settled on simply crossing my arms and waiting it out.
«You aren't the compassionate type, are you?» she asked after a minute, looking at me through her fingers. She lowered her hands and regarded me curiously. I shrugged; considering where I'd grown up, what the hell did she expect? She sighed and gave up the act. «Okay, I was wrong. My bad. But now we have to fix things. I can't train you properly because I don't have time, but quite obviously the power can't be allowed to go to Myra. She's either in this voluntarily, or she was coerced. If the former, she's evil; if the latter, she's weak. Either way, she's out of the running.»
I looked at the long, sharp knife in the sybil's hand and at the expression in her eyes. I was betting on voluntary. She looked a little angry to be under some sort of mind control. I was beginning to have a certain sympathy with Mircea's point of view.
«Okay, fine. She's a bad sybil. You want to take her back with you and read her the riot act? Be my guest.»
«That isn't the program.»
I was in no mood to play twenty questions. «Do you have a point? Because I'm kind of busy here.»