At the cloud of demons, now diving for the line of horrified-looking vamps.
Chapter Thirty-six
“Shit!” Jules yelled while I ducked, Rosier grinned, and the baby just sat there, crumbs spilling from his suddenly slack lips.
But the other vamps weren’t so paralyzed. The signs of nervousness I’d seen before had been kept in check, out of pride or fear of their masters. But that tore it.
They broke and ran, scrambling in all different directions. Until booming calls went out, ordering them back into line. And giving Rosier a really good look at Don’s strategy in action.
Because nobody had remembered to say where this line should be.
The result was an incredibly organized group of rioters, who reformed only to tear by us in a nice, straight line, despite the fact that some were still yelling their heads off. And ripping apart the heavy metal door like it was tissue paper, before trampling the battling vampires outside. Until their masters ordered them back again, which resulted in a neat about-face, but no slowing down.
And vamps in a hurry can move. The master’s section itself was plowed into a second later, almost fast enough to give me whiplash, bleachers collapsing, people cursing, demons back to hovering overhead. And if a cloud could l
ook nonplussed, they were managing it.
It looked like they’d been led to believe this would be easier.
I turned to Rosier. “You said Rian was the making of him—”
“What?”
“Casanova. You said Rian was the making of him. What did you mean?”
He told me.
I stood up.
“Where are you going?” Jules said, gripping my arm.
Only he appeared to have grown two left hands.
I looked down to see that the baby had latched on, too. The big brown eyes, made even bigger by the glasses, were pleading. He still couldn’t talk, but the idea was conveyed, all the same.
“I’m not going far,” I told him.
“We’ll go with you,” Jules offered, even while eyeing the door. Which was wide open and hanging off its hinges.
“You can go if you want,” I said. “Both of you—”
“Not if you’re staying.”
“You’re not my bodyguard anymore, Jules,” I reminded him, because I didn’t need another repeat of the scene outside.
“I know that! But there’s things you don’t know about vamps—I know, you grew up with one. But Tony wasn’t a senator. They could try to put something over on you. I can help.”
The baby nodded enthusiastically—why, I had no idea. Maybe because he didn’t want to be left behind with Rosier. I sighed. “Come on, then.”
The senate had been standing on the far side of the gym, I guess to get the best view. It had been a little crowded over there when I came in, packed with senators and assorted flunkies. It was a lot less so now, since many of the latter were helping to retrieve their wayward children. It made it easier to find a familiar face.
Well, sort of familiar.
As usual, it had the nondescript pudding quality of bad glamouries everywhere: round, blond, and unassuming. Its owner kept doing the Mr. Potato Head thing, trying out different stuff—a cleft, a mustache, or for today’s version, dimples—to dress it up. None of it helped. It still looked like what it was, a more or less human facade to cover the not-at-all human thing inside. The not-at-all human thing that, I strongly suspected, would tip me the rest of the way into madness if I saw it, so I was content with the pudding.
I smiled.
Adra, better known as Adramelech, smiled wider, and held out a couple of warm hands to take the one I offered. “Pythia, how fortunate. We were just talking about you.”