Mircea was looking as if he wondered whether acting outraged because I'd demanded the life of one of his oldest retainers would work. I rolled my eyes. «Don't bother. Giving me Tony's head is no big deal and you know it. He betrayed you—you have to kill him.»
He smiled slightly. «True. But it would also solve a problem for you, would it not?»
«But it won't cost you anything. Isn't your life worth a little something?»
«What else would you like then, my beautiful Cassandra?» He stepped forward, a gleam in his eye, and I put the chair between us.
«Don't try it.»
He grinned at me, unrepentant. «Then name your price.»
«You want my help? Tell me what happened to my father.»
Rafe gave a startled squeak and looked wide-eyed at Mircea, who sighed and shook his head in disgust. I sympathized; Rafe had always had a lousy poker face—I'd started beating him at cards by age eight—and he obviously hadn't improved. He subsided under Mircea's displeasure, but the damage was done. Mircea braved it out anyway, of course; I would have thought less of him otherwise. «Your father, dulceata? He died in a car bomb, did he not? Is that not one reason why you are upset with our Antonio?»
«Then what did Jimmy mean? He told me not to kill him, because he knew the truth about what happened.»
Mircea shrugged. «Since he was the 'hit man'—is that not the phrase?—on the job, I am sure he does know details, dulceata. Why did you not ask him?»
«Because Pritkin blew a hole in him before I could. But you know, don't you?»
Mircea smiled, and once again I saw where Tony got it. «Is that knowledge your price?»
I looked at Rafe, and he looked back. I thought he was about to speak when Mircea's hand descended on his shoulder. «No, no, Raphael. It would not be fair to give our Cassandra information for which she has not yet paid.» He smiled, and there was more calculation than affection in it. «Do we have a deal?»
I glanced at Billy, who was floating near the ceiling with an impatient look on his face. He didn't comment, so I assumed his news didn't have any bearing on my choice. I sent him an irritated look and he disappeared, in a snit because I hadn't dropped everything for him. Typical. I'd have preferred to find out more before agreeing to Mircea's terms, but I didn't have a lot of options. It's hard to push the price too high when you're a sure thing and the buyer knows it. I literally had no choice but to help them, so technically Mircea was being generous by offering anything. Of course, he probably wanted me doing my best on the errand, so keeping me in a good mood was worth a concession or two. Or maybe he was fond of me. No, that kind of thinking was dangerous.
«Okay. We have a deal. Tell me.»
«In a moment, dulceata. First, I believe we need to inform the Consul. Tomas, if you would be so good? She may have final instructions.» He noticed Tomas' mulish expression. «You have my word that we will wait the attempt on your return. You will be accompanying her, will you not?»
«Yes.» Tomas looked at me challengingly, but I didn't object. If Rasputin did show up, it would be nice to have someone along, especially someone who had shown he could handle himself in an emergency. Even if it was only to have company when everything went to hell. Tomas started to say something else but stopped when Mircea stepped to my side and put a hand on my shoulder.
«Now, Tomas!» Louis-Cesar looked impatient. Tomas glared at him but he left, slamming the door behind him.
«And we need the Tears, do we not, to be on the safe side?» Louis-Cesar nodded and left right behind Tomas.
«The Tears? Do I want to know?»
«Nothing to be concerned about, I assure you.» Mircea smiled reassuringly. «The Tears of Apollo are an ancient concoction. They have been used to aid in meditative trances for centuries. They are quite safe.»
«But why do we need them? I didn't have them before.»
«And you quickly ran out of energy before. They will help you, Cassandra. Remember, I have a vested interest in seeing that this goes well. I would not lie to you.» I believed that answer more than I would have a heartfelt declaration of concern for my welfare, and nodded. I'd use the damn Tears, whatever they were. Anything to up the odds.
Mircea glanced at Raphael. «Would you be so good as to see if clothing has been arranged for Cassie? She must be tired of wearing such a bulky robe.» He gave an odd little smile. «Take your time.»
Rafe looked uncertain—I could tell he didn't want to leave Mircea and me alone for some reason—but he went. Mircea locked the door behind him and leaned against it, regarding me with suddenly serious eyes. «And now for the real negotiations, my Cassandra.»