“The ward is spelled to let you in, is it not?”

“I don’t know!”

“We’ll soon find out,” he said as a swarm of black dots broke away from the base of the main structure. In a few seconds, they were close enough that I could identify them—war mages. It looked like Saunders’ men had called ahead.

Some of them came straight for us, while others stayed at the base of the ward, waiting for us to try to land, I assumed. Pritkin threw a spell that scattered the ones directly in front of us, but they re-formed almost at once and rocked the car with half a dozen spells. Devil dog whined and I sunk my fingers into his fur, either comforting him or holding on, I’m not sure which.

“Jonas—” Pritkin began.

“We’ll make it,” Marsden said calmly.

“Not if they hit us with another combined spell!”

“Yes, but to do that, they’ll have to catch us, won’t they?” The car sprang ahead, headed right for the black tower and the swarm of mages in front of it.

I didn’t care about them. At this speed, there wasn’t going to be anything left for them to attack. We were going to be splattered all over Dante’s ward like bugs on a windshield.

I clutched Marsden’s arm with nerveless fingers, silently begging him to turn around. He glanced at me and patted my hand fondly. “Where are you staying?”

“What?”

“Your room. Where is it?”

“The penthouse.”

“Oh, good,” he murmured, and we crashed straight into the wall of darkness.

I screamed, Pritkin swore and Marsden laughed, and then we were bursting out the other side, the ward dissolving like smoke in front of us.

It was still night at Dante’s, the moon hanging heavy and marmalade orange over the casino. I could see the color because we soared out of the line for ten seconds, leaving our pursuers behind, before we plunged back into the maelstrom of electric blue. Marsden had succeeded in confusing the hell out of the pursuers—an even dozen whisked by us, going up as we were heading back down. He’d done a pretty good job on me, too. I stared around blankly, not even sure we were still right side up.

And then I caught sight of the building rushing straight at us.

“Slow down!” I shrieked. “We’re going to crash!”

“Nonsense,” he told me, and plunged into the middle of a forest of other craft riding the currents of the ley line.

The interior of the ward was like a parking lot.We ducked under a tall clipper ship, its sails furled inside its bubble of protection, slid past a modern luxury yacht with lounge chairs scattered about the shining wood deck and swooped past a familiar dragon-shaped barge. It was the personal conveyance of the Chinese consul. I assumed the others belonged to her counterparts, something that wouldn’t have worried me except they were clustered around the wrong tower.

Mine.

“Oh, shit!”

“You can never get a parking space when you need one!” Marsden agreed just as a spell clipped our fender, spinning us straight at the balcony doors. I had a second to see a group of startled faces staring out at us, and then we were crashing through the windows, glass flying, bar stools soaring, couches splintering.

We slammed straight into the wall leading to the dining room but bounced off as if it had been made of rubber instead of wood and plaster. We spun back into the room, taking out a couple of potted plants and a cigar-store Indian in the process. The room was a blur of color and noise for a few confused seconds before we finally came to a stop beside the ruined sofas.

The antler chandelier swung wildly above us, slinging light everywhere. I clutched devil dog to my chest and glared at Marsden, who was grinning from ear to ear. “I thought you said we weren’t going to crash!”

He clapped me on the shoulder and laughed. “Just a little crash. And I do so enjoy making an entrance!”

Chapter Twenty-five

Mircea reached us first, pushing a pile of expensive kindling out of the way, heedless of damage to his sleek black suit. He wrenched open the door and devil dog growled menacingly, but Marsden got hold of the collar and pulled him back. “Now, now, Orion. You remember the good senator, surely.”

Mircea grabbed Pritkin and hauled him bodily out of the car, his eyes devouring Pritkin’s face with a nearly desperate relief. I blinked, taking a moment to catch up. And then it hit: Pritkin was still in my body. And that was definitely not something I wanted to explain.

“Crap.”

“If you find our company distasteful, Mage Pritkin, feel free to leave it!” Mircea said acidly.

Pritkin’s hand curled into a fist and he glared at me over Mircea’s shoulder as he was dragged into a bone-cracking embrace. I just shrugged. I thought he should have been grateful—at least Mircea hadn’t kissed him.

Marlowe approached, wearing modern clothes for once—a black shirt and tie with a dark russet suit that brought out auburn glints in his hair. He was waving a bottle of whiskey. “Can I interest anyone in a drink?”

Marsden peered at the label. “Glenfiddich? Oh, yes, please.” He climbed out, followed by devil dog, and surveyed the damage. “Not too bad,” he said musingly. “A new coat of paint and a bit of drying out, and she’ll be right as rain.”

“You modified it,” Pritkin accused.

“I added an external shield for landings that don’t, er, go quite as planned. It’s illegal in racing, but as I don’t do that anymore—”

“Could have fooled me,” I said shakily. I crawled out of the car and tried to take a couple of steps, but my balance was shot and the room swung crazily about me. My inner ears weren’t convinced that we’d actually stopped.

I looked around, expecting to see a ring of ancient, disapproving eyes. I did, but not the ones I’d feared. Besides the five of us, the only other people in the room were Mircea’s cold-eyed masters. It looked like the consuls had gone out for lunch.

One of the masters approached Mircea. “Sir, the representatives from the Circle have arrived.”

“Stall them,” he snapped, looking at Marsden.

The man bowed and exited, but Marsden just shook his head. “It’s too late for that, I’m afraid.”

“Cassie, may I see you a moment?” Mircea didn’t wait for a reply, just hauled Pritkin into the hall leading to the bedrooms, I guess for privacy. Thoughts of how well that was likely to go had me scrambling after them until Marlowe blocked my path.

He smiled. “Are you sure you won’t have a drink? You look like you could use it.”

“Maybe later,” I said, trying to hedge around.

He moved with me. “This is the last whole bottle left to us. I’d take advantage, if I were you.”

There was a curse from the hallway, followed by a grunt and a thud. I winced as Pritkin ran back into the room, face flushed and eyes livid. “Actually, I think a drink sounds like a good idea,” I said as Mircea followed.

“Cassie!” he hissed, his eyes on my face.

“Make that a double,” I told Marlowe before an angry vampire had me by the shoulders, fingers digging into my flesh.

“It’s not like we didn’t try to switch back!” I said defensively.

“You’re saying you can’t reverse this?”

“No, no! We totally can,” I promised quickly, because Mircea was looking a little stressed. “It’s just . . . well, the last time we tried, we sort of almost died and—”

Marlowe tried to hand me my drink, but Mircea took it instead and threw it back. “Ah,” Marlowe said, looking back and forth between Pritkin and me. “This is . . . disturbing.”

“Imagine how I feel,” I said, which won me a dirty look from Pritkin. “What? You like wearing a bra?”

Mircea put a hand to his forehead and just stayed like that for a long moment. A small vein was beating in his jaw. It didn’t look like the whiskey had helped much.

“Mircea,” Marlowe put in quietly. “Saunders is downstairs demanding to see Cassie.”

“He is in no position to demand anything, as you made clear in your communiqué. It appears thickheadedness is a requirement for Circle membership!”

“Perhaps, but he is here. She must greet him.”

“She must do nothing of the kind,” Pritkin spat. “He needs to be removed, not bargained with!”

“You don’t know what we’ve learned about him,” I added. “The man is completely—”

“Cassie, it is you who do not understand the situation!” Mircea told me.

“We understand it perfectly!” Pritkin snarled. “The man is a traitor to the Corps, putting its mages in danger to line his pockets—”

“How do you know that?” Marlowe demanded.

“One of the men Cassie released from the Circle’s prison knew about his activities. He went to tell Jonas, who has decided to challenge.”

We all looked at Marsden, who had commandeered a towel with which he was attempting to dry devil dog. He nodded and shrugged and then went back to clucking over his possessed pooch. Mircea shut his eyes briefly and Marlowe groaned. “Isn’t that perfect!”

“What else is there to do?” I asked, confused. “He has to be removed.”

“If we wanted him dead, we’d have arranged it before this!” Mircea informed me. “We want him controlled!”

“Controlled how? He’s head of the Circle. It looks to me like he pretty much does whatever he wants!”

“A state of affairs that will end tonight!”

“I don’t understand.”

“The man you helped me release from the Circle’s prison brokered the original deal for Saunders,” Marlowe explained. “He was the liaison between the Circle and the final purchaser of their power. Saunders locked him away after the deal was finalized, to keep him quiet.”

“Purchaser?” Pritkin’s brow knotted. “You mean purchas ers. No one person could use that much power.”