Hunt the Moon

me.

I turned from hanging the stuff back up. It had been quick, since my old governess had always insisted that the hangers all go the same way, and I’d never gotten out of the habit. “Yes. Which is why a lot of senior vampires are emancipated by their masters. Most of them, in fact.”

“Except in Lord Mircea’s case,” Jonas said darkly. “There seem to be quite a few upper-level masters in his service. In fact, I have yet to meet a low-level one!”

“The low-level ones wouldn’t be much use here,” I pointed out. “And Mircea is a senator. He needs more senior vamps to help with his work. But he’s the exception, not the rule. Most masters cut loose anyone strong enough to challenge them, just like they think twice before putting a claim on someone.”

Jonas sat a while, absorbing that, while I tidied up the rest of Niall’s mess. “If I understand you correctly,” he finally said, “the vampires consider you Lord Mircea’s servant, almost his property.”

There was no “almost” about it, I didn’t say, because he looked ruffled enough. “In a sense,” I said, knowing where this was going.

“And property is expected to work for the good of its owner, is it not?”

“Yes.”

“Then they believe they’ll control the office of Pythia!” he said, as if he’d suspected this all along.

I shrugged. “Probably.”

“And this doesn’t concern you?” he demanded, as outraged as if he weren’t planning to do the same thing himself.

“Jonas, I’m expected to work for the good of the family. Not the Senate.”

“And you really think they’re going to make that distinction? You think that Lord Mircea will make it?”

“I’ll make it.”

“And you believe you can divide your loyalties so easily?”

“Why not?” I asked, suddenly angry. “Every Pythia has had a family, hasn’t she?”

Jonas looked taken aback for a moment. “Well, yes. But this is hardly the same—”

“It’s exactly the same!” I thought of the vamp who’d had half his leg taken off last night. It would eventually grow back, but others hadn’t been so fortunate. One of Mircea’s older masters, a vampire named Nicu, had died protecting me barely a month ago, and Marco nearly had, too.

If that wasn’t family, I didn’t know what was.

“They’re my family,” I repeated flatly. “And I’ll treat them as such. But it doesn’t mean that I’m going to be the Senate’s happy little puppet.” Or the Circle’s.

Jonas looked far from satisfied. “That’s easy to say, but I think you may have more of a struggle establishing your independence from the Senate than you seem to think. But, in any case, we’re talking about appearances, not esoteric facets of vampire law. And the fact is that you . . . belonging . . . to a vampire, however you define it, is not going to sit well with the supernatural community as a whole.”

“So what do you expect me to do about it?” I demanded.

“I’m not saying don’t date the man, Cassie—”

“Then what are you saying?”

“Merely that it would be helpful if you were seen to be dating others, as well. A Were, perhaps, or a mage. It would make it far easier to sell the idea that your private life has little to do with your decisions.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t really know any—”

“I could send you some.”

I blinked. “Some what?”

“Some . . . suitors . . . if you will.”

“You could send me some suitors,” I repeated slowly, while outside, it sounded like someone was choking to death.

“You wouldn’t have to date any that you didn’t like, of course,” Jonas said, without the faintest hint of irony. “I could send a selection, and you could choose one.”

I had a sudden, crazy image of recruitment posters plastered on the walls at war mage central: BOYFRIEND WANTED. HAZARDOUS-DUTY PAY. Only it really wasn’t funny. Because I could see Jonas deciding that that was a perfectly reasonable way to proceed.

“Or you could choose two,” he said, warming to the idea. “A mage and a Were. Covering all the bases, so to speak.”

“How about half a dozen?” I asked sarcastically, only to have him blink.

“Oh, no. That might get you a bit of a reputation, as it were.”

“And we wouldn’t want that.”

There was some sort of commotion going on outside, and I decided I’d had enough. I went to the door and stuck my head out. Marco was gasping for breath on the sofa, and two of the other guards were bent over a cell phone.

“What are you doing?” I demanded.

“Trying to record this,” the smart-ass from the shopping trip told me. “Nobody is going to believe us otherwise.”

“Well, cut it out. It isn’t funny!”

“On what planet?”

I glared at him, which did no good, because he simply went back to tinkering with the phone. So I looked at Marco. “Can’t you do anything with them?”

Marco flopped a hand at me, tears streaming down his reddened cheeks, and tried to say something. But all that came out for several moments were asthmatic wheezes. I bent over his prone form, starting to worry about him, and he put a hand on my neck and pulled me down.

“It . . . is . . . funny,” he gasped.

I stood back up and smacked him on his rocklike shoulder. “Bastard.”

Jonas was coming out of the lounge when I turned around, dragging Niall by the arm. “Now, now,” he told the younger mage. “Don’t fuss.”

“We have ten days, Jonas,” he said. “When I frankly doubt that ten months would be enough! She looks about twelve, except for the, uh . . .” he gestured up and down at my offensive curves. “Her clothes are wrong, her makeup is wrong—”

“Those are bruises!” I told him indignantly.

“And her hair is . . .” He bent closer, squinting at it in the lights. “Why is your hair green?”

“It’s a fashion statement.”

“It’s hideous. And even if it weren’t . . . tinted . . . or whatever you did to it, it still wouldn’t do. We haven’t had a blond Pythia before; it’s simply not what people expect to see. And, frankly, it doesn’t suit you.”

“It’s my natural color!”

“Then it’s naturally hideous. And this”—he tugged at my curls—“will have to go.”

“If you touch me one more time—” I said softly.

“I’ll make you an appointment with a hairdresser who understands that we need suave. We need sophisticated. We need—well, someone else, obviously, but—”

“Niall. I really think that will do for today,” Jonas said, watching my face.

“And what is this?” He took the fine, starched handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to fish Pritkin’s amulet from my shirt. “And if all that weren’t enough, she smells!”

“Let it go,” I told him, my voice low and even.

“I’ll let it go,” he told me grimly, ripping it off my neck. “Straight into the nearest trash bin, along with whatever other hippie-dippie nonsense you—”

“Oh, dear,” Jonas said.

I blinked, staring at the spot where the officious mage had just been. Because he wasn’t there any longer. “Damn,” one of the vamps said.

“What happened?” I asked, feeling myself start to panic. Because the mage wasn’t anywhere in sight.

“Well, on the bright side, we weren’t scheduled to cover that for another month,” Jonas said. “We’re making fine progress, it would seem.”

“Jonas! What happened?”