“Or what?” Gertie asked, sounding genuinely curious. “You’ve already set the entire local population of vampires against you. Now you threaten a fellow Pythia—”
“That was no Pythia!” the larger of the Weres snarled. “I have a missing piece in my throat to testify to that!”
The other Were snarled and snapped in agreement, which appeared to be boring Gertie.
“You came to me for advice,” she said flatly. “Here it is. Go make your peace with the vampires. It was your people who violated the agreement, and your people who will suffer for it if you don’t back down off some of that stiff-necked pride—”
She was interrupted by twin roars of outrage, which were both cut off at the same moment. Probably because the Pythian power had just tightened, like a noose around their necks. Gertie gave them a minute, allowing them to feel the uselessness of their thrashing, and the sudden lack of blood flow to the brain.
Not that they seemed to have much to begin with, but they quieted down.
“You are also to leave my visitor alone,” Gertie continued mildly. “As she has demonstrated, she is perfectly capable of defending herself from sudden attacks, but I would also be quite . . . annoyed . . . at any violation of my hospitality—"
“Easy to say when the Corpsmen crowd the hallway outside!” the larger Were snarled.
“Them?” Gertie sounded surprised. “They’re window dressing. I protect the court myself. You should remember that.”
And then they were gone.
I didn’t try to see where she’d shifted them; I didn’t need a wild flight over London courtesy of strange new abilities that I didn’t even understand. I needed to find my assailant.
But I wasn’t going to do it this way.
“There was nothing,” Rhea said, coming back into the bedroom. She sounded out of breath, like she’d run all the way back up here. “The wards show no incursions, Lady, of any kind.”
Yeah, I should have assumed that. Otherwise, alarms would have been shrieking and war mages would have been swarming and Gertie would have been yelling. Instead, now that the Weres had gone, the mages who had clustered outside her rooms were going back to their routes; the acolytes were streaming up the stairs to their rooms; and Gertie was pouring herself a much-deserved nightcap.
Soon, the house would be dark and quiet, as everyone settled in for the night.
That was good.
I had an errand to run.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The great library of the Pythian Court sprawled across the entire basement floor of the grand old mansion, although it gave the impression that it dated a lot further back than a few hundred years. The light was dim, with just a pale wash spilling down the stairs from the house above, which was hardly any help at all since Rhea and I had had to come down three flights to get here. Guess electricity hadn’t made it to the basement, either, huh? I thought, wondering why we hadn’t brought a lantern.
I was also kind of wondering why we were here. It had sounded good upstairs: get some idea about what had attac
ked me, assuming I wasn’t just imagining things, or get info on Lover’s Knot and get the hell out of here! Either way worked for me. But now . . .
I wasn’t really feeling it now.
The light was just enough to illuminate a section of golden sandstone spread out underfoot, with what looked like ancient chisel marks still evident in places. Matching columns supported the ceiling, giving the place a temple sort of vibe, a feeling that grew as Rhea and I went further down the steps. I couldn’t see much, but the room felt big, a huge, echoing space with water trickling somewhere in the distance, like a fountain.
And it smelled . . . odd.
It wasn’t the musty odor I’d have expected from a basement, or the crumbly old book scent of an antique library. In fact, it seemed to be constantly changing. One second, I thought I detected some sort of exotic incense or spice; the next, it was the dry, dusty air off a desert that tickled my nose; followed by a cool, fresh greenness, like a garden full of flowers just after dawn.
The merry-go-round of scents made me pause at the end of the stairs and peer into the darkness. But all I saw was a jumbled mass of strange shapes, rising out of the gloom. They weren’t moving, so I didn’t, either, just held onto the wall while my eyes finished adjusting.
“Lady?” Rhea’s voice sounded confused, and I realized that I’d thrown an arm over the space in front of her, like a mother protecting a child in a car. Which was stupid, because she knew this place better than I did! But there was something that had me pausing on a step anyway.
After a summer full of terrors, I’d learned to trust my gut, and my gut wasn’t happy.
“Lady, is there . . . a problem?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “Stay here.”