Brave the Tempest (Cassandra Palmer #9) - Karen Chance Page 0,116

began, but Ismitta held up a hand. There was no smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, or any other indication I could see, but she somehow gave the impression of mild amusement anyway. As if somebody’s pet dog had just done a cute trick.

“No offense taken,” she said condescendingly—to Mircea. Because he was the dog owner. At least as far as another first-level master was concerned.

But Mircea knew better. Specifically, he knew me better, and probably read something on my face. Because his eyes widened slightly, and he opened his mouth, probably to say something to calm me down.

Too late.

“It was sort of a demon to the demons,” I told her flatly. “Called Kulullû. One of the Ancient Horrors, as they’re known, because they terrify even the demonic peoples. They’re old, they’re many times more powerful than most demons, and they’re usually insane. The demon high council trapped and imprisoned them millennia ago, but occasionally one gets loose and goes berserk. As I said, Adra—the head of the council—is checking on it.”

I sat down.

Mircea had a strange look on his face, part amused, part horrified, and part something I couldn’t name but that weirdly looked like pride. Ismitta and the rest of the table just stared at me. They appeared nonplussed rather than angry, like the cute dog had just taken a shit in the middle of the senate chamber and nobody knew what to do about it.

It didn’t look like they were used to being spoken to quite that abruptly, and by a lowly human, of all things, but to give Ismitta her due, she recovered quickly. And, this time, she addressed me. “You’re saying this wasn’t about the war, then?”

“Adra doesn’t know. That’s why he’s checking,” I added kindly.

She stared at me some more.

She looked like she was trying to decide what to do with that—not the information so much, but the tone, which had matched hers to me almost perfectly. A master vamp addressing her like that might have been taken as a challenge, but I wasn’t one. I was just Mircea’s little pet Pythia, so was she supposed to respond to Mircea?

I saw her flick a glance his way, but Mircea had gotten himself under control and was just standing there, trying to look like this was all perfectly normal. He was doing a pretty good job. He appeared calm, polite, and inoffensive, which seemed to confuse her even more.

What the hell is this? I could almost see her wondering.

Was he trying to undermine her? Because if so, why? They were on the same senate, even in the same clique, from what I’d heard. Ismitta’s absence had deprived the consul, who had formed a cabal with her, Mircea, and Marlowe, of an important vote. So Mircea was Ismitta’s ally, and not someone she’d expect to be angling for . . . what? Some kind of public showdown?

She glanced back at me, and I gave her my best blank-eyed stare back. It didn’t help that Mircea was across the table from me, on the same side as her, and down a bit, so she couldn’t watch us both at the same time. It seemed to be freaking her out slightly, but I didn’t help her.

Because it hadn’t occurred to Ismitta that she was undermining me. That she was essentially challenging me by speaking to me like that, something she would never have done to anyone else at this table. But I was human, and the Pythias were just tools to be used by the Circle or the senate, depending on who managed to grab us first. Not equals to be spoken to politely, or risk a challenge she might not be able to handle!

Calm down, I told myself. You’re angry, but not really at her. How is this different from the way the senate has always treated you? Unless they need propaganda for their war, that is.

Annnnnd now I was mad all over again.

Mircea noticed and moved to distract me, or maybe he was just doing his job. “Did Adramelech happen to mention any reason why the creature should have come here?” he asked, and maybe it was my imagination, but his voice seemed extra polite.

A small frown appeared on Ismitta’s beautiful forehead.

I shook my head. “No. But the last time one of them got loose, it trashed the Shadowland, looking for an old enemy.”

I decided not to mention that “the last time” was yesterday morning. Things were tense enough in here as it was,