Touch the Dark by Karen Chance Page A

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.
    â€œThe 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.”
    â€œThere 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 annoyed me that outcasts with no more status in the magical community than I had treated me like a charlatan at a carnival. But at the moment I’d gladly take a little scornful indifference. The whole session was beginning to feel like a bunch of dogs fighting over a bone, with me as the bone. I didn’t like it, but there wasn’t a lot I could do about it.
    â€œShe 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