Annnnnd the record scratched.
Time seemed to slow down as I stared at Rhea, who stared back, tearful, apologetic, terrified. Because she must have said something that let them know or guess her new status. I had elevated her rank as a reward for her warning, and because there never seemed to be enough of me to go around. I could really use an acolyte.
I just hadn’t thought—so could somebody else.
“If you do not give us Elizabeth, we will have to see if this one can be . . . persuaded . . . to assist us,” the mage said, running his free hand through her long, dark hair. “It may take some time, but there are ways. And she is so young. In the end, I think she’ll do as we ask.”
Looking at her face, I thought Rhea did, too.
Because she’d just gone white as a sheet.
My fingers wanted to curl, to clench, to eat into my thigh. It took a concentrated effort of will to leave them limp, to make my expression disinterested. To keep myself from using the last of my power to age his smile into powder.
I used to have better control than this.
Of course, I used to have fewer people I cared about, too.
“She was lying,” I said flatly. “I barely know her. Why would I give her that kind of power?”
“Someone is lying,” he agreed, with that same small smile.
I shrugged. “You don’t have to believe me. You have the evidence already. If she was an acolyte, she could shift away from you.” My gaze slid over to Rhea’s. “Do you really think you could hold someone with the Pythian power if she didn’t want to be held?”
Rhea gazed back at me, her eyes huge. Take the hint, I thought desperately. Because she could do this. Not fight her way out, no, but shift . . . all acolytes could do that, even untrained. I’d managed it for the first time with less knowledge than she had now—a lot less. Admittedly, my mother’s blood had probably helped, but still. She could do it.
But it looked like Rhea didn’t think so. Maybe she’d skipped those lessons, or never had them to begin with, since she’d just been an initiate until a couple days ago. Because she just stared at me.
“I think if she had that kind of skill,” her captor said lightly, “she would have used it by now.”
“Then she can’t help you, can she?” I pointed out quickly. “She can’t shift Ares here for you. But if you take my offer—”
“I also think,” he said, his voice abruptly rising, “that you’re lying—”
“About what? I don’t—”
“—and stalling—”
“Listen to me—”
“—and that you should give me what I want—”
“I’m willing to discuss—”
“—before I get impatient,” he screamed, the knife bearing down hard enough to dent his captive’s throat, “and wreck this whole goddamn hotel!”
I stopped talking. The Black Circle weren’t the so-called dark mages I’d grown up with, who’d been seminormal guys who got into trouble and couldn’t get legit work anymore. The Black Circle were magic addicts and crazy men, and arguing with crazy doesn’t work.
Not when the crazy is desperate.
And they were. Because Jo, the only acolyte left alive besides Lizzie, hadn’t bet on the potion. Instead, she was off chasing the same weapon I was. And running her own game—without them—because if she found it, she wouldn’t need any help. Supposedly, it was strong enough to punch through Mom’s spell all by itself.
And I guessed Ares wouldn’t have much use for the guys who had twiddled their thumbs while a girl brought him back, now would he?
So yeah, they needed Lizzie, and they needed her bad.
“I have to discuss this with my associates,” I told him.
“No, we do this now!”