Cassandra Palmer 1(82)
«I… these are dangerous matters. I cannot speak of them without authorization.»
«You said they know what you know,» Tomas growled. «Contact them; get permission.»
Pritkin looked about wildly, as if searching for help. He didn't find any. «I will try, but I know they will want to meet to discuss this. And they will want her brought before them. It will not be decided quickly.»
«How long?» Louis-Cesar had joined Tomas, and together they did intimidating really well. Hell, they did okay separately.
Pritkin made the mistake of trying to cover his nervousness with rudeness. He was far too offhand to deal with a senator. «I don't know. Perhaps days.»
Louis-Cesar's blue eyes abruptly flashed to a shimmering gray, like mercury, and his pupils almost completely disappeared. I held my breath, and I wasn't alone. The only sound in the room was Pritkin's harsh breathing, and it echoed loudly like someone had slipped a microphone on him. Mircea abruptly released him and he would have slumped to the floor if Louis-Cesar hadn't grabbed his shirt and slammed him back into the wall.
Seeing Louis-Cesar in action at the casino hadn't convinced me that here was a predator's predator. He fought well, but I'd seen a lot of good fighters through the years, and I wasn't sold on the idea that a rapier, however long and sharp, was a substitute for a decent firearm. I'd spent too much time at Tony's, better known as Guns R Us, for that. I understood why he scared the crap out of me—he was my portal to the land of crazed ghosts and filthy dungeons—but other people didn't have that problem, so I hadn't understood why they seemed so afraid of him. Most of the time, he looked almost sweet, with his big blue eyes and his dimples. But I finally got the message. He was still handsome, but it was the splendor of a tornado right before it rips through a city. In that second, I believed that he could have made that crazy plan at Dante's work, that he really could have held off twenty vamps while Tomas got me to safety. «We don't have days,» he hissed, and the blood drained the rest of the way from Pritkin's face.
Mircea spoke, and his voice was like a calm stream of water flowing about the room, quieting tempers and cooling cheeks. I felt my heartbeat slow down and I was finally able to get a deep breath. «Perhaps Mage Pritkin would like to contact his Circle elsewhere? I think he has told us what we needed to know, by implication, if nothing else.» He smiled at Pritkin. «You might think to ask them why they sent you, their best-known demon hunter, after Cassie. You have something of a reputation for being—how shall I put it?—extremely single-minded? If I were the suspicious type, I might almost believe that they wanted you to mistake what she was, and remove a possible rival from contention.» Pritkin stared at him, and his face slowly flushed an angry brick red. I hoped his heart wasn't getting as much of a workout as his complexion. I had the feeling that if he didn't give himself a heart attack, someone in the Circle was about to have some explaining to do.
«He isn't leaving!» Louis-Cesar and I spoke at the same time. He deferred to me with a graceful gesture, and I watched him nervously as I scrambled up to face Pritkin. The vamp's eyes were still silver, and I didn't want to find out what happened when he really lost his temper.
«You aren't going anywhere until I get some answers. Who is the Pythia, why do you keep calling me sybil and what powers are you talking about?»
Pritkin complied without even an argument. The fight seemed to have gone out of him for the moment, and his voice was slightly hoarse. «The Pythia was the name of the ancient seer of Delphi, Apollo's greatest temple. For two thousand years, the women selected for the position were considered the oracle of the world, with kings and emperors deciding policy based on their advice. The position lapsed with the decline of Greece, but the term is still used out of respect. It is the title of the world's chief seer, a strong ally of the Circle. She is one of our chief assets, since nonhumans do not have the gift.»
«What does this have to do with me?»
«Every time a new Pythia is chosen, a sybil—our name for a true clairvoyant—is selected as her heir. She is carefully trained from childhood to understand the burden and how to bear it. The Pythia is old and her control of the power is failing. It should pass to her heir, but she was kidnapped by Rasputin and the Dark Circle more than six months ago.» His eyes looked haunted. «The Pythia's power has passed in an unbroken tradition for thousands of years. But now, I fear for the succession. The heir must be dead. Why else would the power come to you, even in part? A rogue with no training, no understanding of what the position entails?»