Touch The Dark

"You are here on sufferance, Pritkin. Do not forget that." The Consul sounded bored, but several of her snakes hissed in the guy's direction.

The man sneered, and his bright green eyes were scornful. I wondered if he had a death wish, and pressed back against Rafe. His arms slid around my waist and I felt a little better. "She is not vampire—you have no right to speak for her!"

"That can easily be remedied." I jumped as a low, sibilant voice spoke in my ear. I twisted in Rafe's grip to see a tall, cadaverous vamp with greasy black hair and glittering beetle eyes bending towards me. I'd met him only once before, and we hadn't gotten along. I somehow didn't think this time would be any different.

Jack, still sometimes called by his famous nickname, had had an abrupt end to his early career in the streets of London when he met Senate member Augusta, one of those missing at the moment, while she was on a European vacation. She showed him what a truly ripping good time was before bringing him over. He had been promoted to the Senate only recently, but had served as their unofficial torturer almost since she made him. He'd come to Philly to do some freelance work once and hadn't liked that Tony refused to throw me in as a bonus for a job well done. I'd been relieved not to see him in the Senate chamber when I arrived, and there was no entrance on that side of the room. But figuring out where he'd come from was not as big a priority as wondering why his lips were curled back and his long, dingy fangs fully extended.

Rafe jerked me away and Tomas shifted to be able to watch both new arrivals. Before things got more interesting, the Consul intervened. "Sit down, Jack. She belongs to Lord Mircea, as you know." Mircea smiled at me, apparently unfazed. Either he trusted Jack a lot more than I did, or the fact that he was Tony's master, and by vampire law mine as well, didn't mean much to him. I was betting on the latter, knowing my luck.

Jack backed away, but he didn't like it. He gave a whine like a child deprived of a treat as he assumed his seat. "She looks like a slut."

"Better than like an undertaker." It was true—his heavy Victorian clothes would have looked perfectly at home in a funeral parlor—but that wasn't why I said it. I'd learned early that fear was power, and I was deathly afraid of Jack. Even in life he'd been a monster; now he was the sort that even vamps gave a wide berth. But I wasn't going to give him the advantage of knowing how he affected me. Not to mention that terror was an aphrodisiac to him—Tony had said that he actually preferred his victims' fright to their pain—and I wouldn't give him the pleasure. He bared his fangs at me again in response. It could have been a smile, but I doubted it.

"The mages do not have a monopoly on honor, Pritkin," the Consul continued, ignoring Jack and me like we were two naughty children acting up in front of a guest. "We will keep our agreement with them if they keep theirs with us."

I started, and gave the man—no, the mage—another look. I'd met mages before, but only renegades who occasionally did jobs for Tony. They had never impressed me much. Most of them had serious addictions to one illegal substance or another—a by-product of living constantly under a death threat—and their habit had Tony's blessing since it kept them eager for work. But I'd never before seen one in good standing, especially not a Circle member, if that's what he was. Tony feared both the Silver Circle and the Black, so I'd always been curious about them. The rumors that circulated about the Silver Circle, whose members supposedly practiced only white magic, were scary, but the Black wasn't talked about at all. When even vamps find a group too daunting to gossip about, it's probably best to avoid it. I wondered which type he was, but there was no sign or insignia that I could see anywhere on that weird getup.

He gestured at me. "She is human and a magic user; that makes her fate ours to decide." He flexed his hands as if he'd like to grab something, maybe a weapon, maybe me, maybe both. "Give her to me and I swear you will never have reason to regret it."

Mircea was regarding him the way a good housewife looks at a bug crawling across her newly cleaned kitchen floor. "But Cassie might, would she not?" he asked in his usual mild voice. I'd never heard him raise it, although he'd stayed with Tony for almost a year.

The Consul looked as cool as a bronze statue, but a wave of power fluttered by me, like a warm summer breeze with tiny drops of acid in it. I flinched and resisted the urge to wipe at my skin. If the mage noticed it, he gave no sign. "We have yet to determine who has the better claim, Pritkin."

"There is nothing to discuss. The Pythia wants the rogue returned to her. I have been sent to fetch her, and by our treaty you have no right to interfere. She belongs with her people."

I had no idea what he was talking about but thought it strange that he seemed so concerned with my future. I'd never met him before in my life and it didn't help my confusion that none of the mages who came to Tony's had ever given me a second glance. As merely the vampire's pet clairvoyant, I'd been beneath contempt. It had a

"She belongs with those who can best defend her and her gift." The Consul did serene well. I wondered if it was natural talent or if her two-thousand-odd years of life had helped teach her composure. Maybe both. "I find it interesting, Pritkin, that your Circle now speaks of protecting her. Not so long ago you asked our help in finding her, dead or alive, with the implication being that the former was preferable."

The blond's eyes flashed dangerously. "Do not presume to put words in the mouth of the Circle! You don't understand the danger. Only the Circle can protect her, and protect others from her." For the first time he looked directly at me, and the snarl on his face would have bared fangs if he'd been a vamp. As it was, it told me I had another enemy to worry about. His gaze flicked over me like a whip, and he didn't seem to like what he saw. "She has been allowed to mature unschooled, cut off from everyone who could have taught her control. It is a recipe for disaster."

I met those narrowed green eyes and something that looked almost like fear crossed over them for a second. His hand moved to the knife in a sheath on his wrist, and for a moment, I actually thought he was going to throw it at me. Rafe must have thought so, too, for he tensed, but the Consul's voice cut in before anyone could move. "The Silver Circle was once great, Pritkin. Do you tell us that you ca

His face darkened with anger and his hand continued to fondle the knife, although it stayed in its little leather holder. I looked into those crystalline green eyes and suddenly the picture came together. I knew who, or at least what, he was. The Silver Circle was said to have a group of mages who were trained in combat techniques, both human and magical, who enforced their will. The mages at Tony's had been scared to death of them because they were authorized to kill rogue magic users on sight. Mages who pissed off the Circle weren't allowed ever to use magic again; if they did and were discovered, it was a death sentence. But why had the Silver Circle sent a freaking war mage after me? Most people even in the magical community treat clairvoyants like shysters with no more ability than a Halloween witch; we don't even register on the radar for them. But the fact that there are a lot of con artists doesn't mean that some of us aren't real. I wondered if the Circle had finally come to that conclusion, too, and decided to start eliminating rivals to their power, begi