“Also North American Senate,” Mircea said, somewhat grimly.
“Oh, yeah. The prick.” He was one of the older senators, rivaling the consul in age, but not in power—or in anything else except ego. He also believed he was God’s gift to women and didn’t know how to take no for an answer. He’d grabbed my ass within thirty seconds of meeting me, and had not taken the resulting knife through the wrist well.
“I don’t know any vampires named Lutkin,” Marlowe said thoughtfully.
“He’s a mage.” Everyone looked at Ray. “Their money spends, too,” he said defensively.
“Lutkin was here tonight,” Louis-Cesare pointed out, tapping a name near the bottom of the list. “And Geminus. But none of the others.”
Marlowe’s expression brightened. “We can blame it on the mage. The others are too prominent or too unreachable in any case.”
“And if he did not do it?”
Marlowe looked at him like he didn’t understand the question.
“There were no silent bidders?” I asked Ray. “Nobody bidding by phone?”
“No. Seller insisted on a binding spell. And that don’t work unless someone’s physically there.”
“He was worried about fraud?” I asked incredulously. “With that group?”
“He was worried period. The guy was freaking paranoid.”
“He probably knew who was chasing him. He didn’t want to risk anyone using a glamourie and impersonating one of the bidders.”
“That’s what I figured.”
I frowned. “So he knew he was being hunted, knew he was in serious jeopardy, yet he still let his guard down enough for someone to…”
There was a sudden silence around the desk. I looked up to find everyone staring at me, a ring of bright, narrowed eyes. “Hunted by whom?” Mircea asked quietly.
There was no point in postponing it. “subrand.”
Louis-Cesare’s head jerked, like he’d been stung. “Comment?”
“And you know this how?” Marlowe asked, his expression darkening.
“He dropped by the house last night.”
“Dropped by?” Mircea asked sharply.
“In a manner of speaking.”
Marlowe glared at me. “Our spies have reported no such escape.”
“Then maybe you should get new ones.”
“I don’t need new ones. You clearly mistook another fey for him.”
“Doubt it,” I said drily.
“You are sure?” Mircea pressed. “You saw him clearly?”
“He was about an inch from my face while he was trying to kill me,” I said sarcastically. “So, yeah, I’m pretty sure.”
“He tried to—” Mircea broke off, his jaw tightening.
“Why did you say nothing of this?” That was Louis-Cesare.