The Consul appeared unruffled by the disturbance, but a tiny frown marred her otherwise perfect face. «Be careful, Jack. I want answers, not a corpse.»
Jack smiled beatifically up at her. «You'll have both,» he promised and bent towards the body. I quickly looked away but heard the sounds of ripping flesh and popping bones. I guessed that he'd retrieved his knives, breaking the limbs of his victim in the process. I swallowed hard several times. I'd forgotten how interesting court life could be.
«As I was saying, madame, la mademoiselle is obviously unwell. Perhaps we could explain things to her after she has had a chance to rest?» Louis-Cesar spoke as casually as if the events of the last few minutes had never happened. Meanwhile Jack had taken a set of gleaming surgical tools from a case he'd pulled out of a pocket. He lined them up slowly by the side of his struggling victim, giving a soft, hissing laugh as he did so. Great; at least someone was having fun.
«We do not have the time to waste, Louis-Cesar, as you know.»
«Ma chere madame, we have all the time in the world… now.» They exchanged a look, but I couldn't interpret it. «If I may suggest, I could explain to Mademoiselle Palmer our dilemma and report back before dawn. That would give you time to complete the… interrogation.» He gave me a glance, and my panic at the thought of being alone with a guy who'd just shish-kebabed a powerful vamp must have shown. He quickly added, «Raphael may accompany us, of course.»
I didn't like the fact that he could read me so easily, but knowing I'd have a friend along did make me feel better. At least until I saw Jack start to pull a long, gleaming cord of intestines out of the vamp's now open gut, draping them like a string of sausages over his arm. He paused to lick his fingers like a kid with ice cream, then glanced up and gave me a wink. The skin between my shoulders crawled like it would like to creep off somewhere else. I decided I wasn't going to enjoy this conversation no matter who was involved.
-
Chapter 4
It was finally decided that Louis-Cesar, Rafe and Mircea would accompany me to my room and fill me in. Pritkin didn't like it, but he wasn't prepared to challenge the Consul's decision. Considering that it would have meant facing her in a duel, I was relieved to hear it. I'd had about all the fighting I could stand for one night; besides, I didn't know what would happen if a war mage of the Silver Circle went up against a two-thousand-year-old vampire, but it wasn't a show I wanted to see.
I was thankful that two out of three of my companions were friends or at least friendly neutrals, but it made me anxious, too. The Senate was acting suspiciously nice, defending me against would-be assassins, not handing me over to Tony or the Circle, clucking over my health and making sure that my companions were ones I would like. It made me wonder what they wanted, and how much I wasn't going to enjoy giving it to them.
Barely a minute later, I wasn't so sure giving up my bodyguard had been a good idea after all. We were about halfway up a second flight of stairs when we met a werewolf on the way down. He was a huge gray and black specimen with the characteristic long muzzle and mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Chartreuse eyes locked with mine for a second, and I froze, one foot halfway to the next step. I'd seen only one werewolf before, and never this close, but I knew instinctively what he was. It was more than his size; there was intelligence in those eyes that no animal would have had. What I couldn't figure out was what he was doing there.
To say that vamps and weres don't get along is a laughable understatement. Maybe it has something to do with them both being predators, or maybe Tony was right when he insisted that weres envy the vamps their immortality. Whatever the cause, they're like oil and water. Or more often, blood and fur, both of which go flying when they meet up. I expected a reaction, probably a severe one, from one or more of my escorts, but the only thing I noticed was Rafe's hand tightening slightly on my wrist. Louis-Cesar nodded a greeting at the were as if he regularly met giant wolves in the stairway. «Sebastian, good to see you.» The were didn't respond, of course, since he was in animal form, but he slipped by us without offering challenge. It was a seriously surreal experience. It also told me I wasn't in Kansas anymore, or Atlanta, either, for that matter.
As we emerged from the stairs to the aboveground areas, I finally got a glimpse out a window and confirmed that, wherever I was, it wasn't north Georgia. The view also explained why the Consul was worried about time. I must have lost more hours than I'd thought after Tomas bespelled me, enough for me to be moved, and not merely across the state. The colors outside the window were a different palette than you could see anywhere in Georgia: the dappled greens and grays of the deep South had been replaced by midnight blue skies and indigo clouds. A black, star-studded canopy stretched overhead, but the line of deep violet along the horizon showed that the desert was beginning to remember the day.