Brave the Tempest (Cassandra Palmer #9) - Karen Chance Page 0,193

train station that the Circle had set up as temporary housing, because even the Pythian Court couldn’t hold so many people. “He’s fine, if somewhat chilly. I believe he forgot his . . . coat?” She looked with distaste at the snow suit jacket lying on the back of the sofa.

Like she could talk.

“Damn it, Gertie! You can’t just—”

“I can, though,” she demurred. “It’s my court, at least for now. And we need to chat.”

“About what?”

“I think you know.” She sat back down and picked up her tea, taking a sip, taking her time. The fire played over her curls, picking out the gray roots under all the lavender, which I assumed was some kind of hair dye gone wrong. Or maybe she liked it that way.

Gertie had always been a rebel.

I’d first met her on the hunt for Pritkin. One of the stops his wildly careening soul had made on its journey back through time had been on her turf. I hadn’t managed to catch up with it there, but I and the demon lord I’d had with me—Rosier, who was supposed to apply the counterspell—had nonetheless set off all kinds of alarms.

I hadn’t expected that, having previously traveled across many Pythias’ territories and been ignored. Rosier, however, made a huge difference, since apparently dragging powerful demons across time is a no-no. And while we narrowly escaped dealing with Gertie at the time, a later stop in old Amsterdam had been a different story.

Because, instead of just leaving us for another Pythia to deal with, she’d followed us through time. Even though we weren’t in her era anymore. Even though we’d only been there very briefly. Even though we hadn’t even caused any problems while there.

But Gertie wasn’t having it.

Thereafter had followed a crazy chase across time, with me after Pritkin and Gertie after me, and damned if she hadn’t been a colossal pain in the ass every step of the way!

It didn’t look like things had changed any.

“How much did you take?” she asked, looking at me over the top of her cup.

I didn’t answer.

“You know,” she told me genially, “I always like it better when I talk anyway, so I’m going to talk. And you’re going to listen,” she added, as I started for the door again. “If you want my help.”

I glared at her, but it wasn’t like I had a choice.

I sat back down.

The fire popped and hissed. Gertie stared at it thoughtfully. I pulled a blanket back around me, because I was literally freezing.

“I assumed you were an adept, a rogue heir perhaps, when I first met you,” she said. “You have an instinctive grasp of the power like nothing I’ve ever seen. But I also assumed you were no Pythia, because of your obvious lack of any kind of support.”

“I have support,” I muttered.

“Then where is it? What happened to your court, Pythia?”

I’d been fighting with the damned blankets, but at that I jerked my head up.

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Gertie said, seeing my face. “I’m not a dullard. Did you think it escaped my notice that the only person I’ve seen returning passengers is you?”

She looked at me expectantly.

I gave her one of Pritkin’s patented scowls back. “You know I can’t talk about that.”

Pythias who met up in the course of their duties weren’t supposed to talk at all, especially about the future, in case something was mentioned that changed it. It was a rule I’d once railed against, but had eventually come to accept, after seeing how dangerous even a small time change could be. Little things could grow into huge ones, as Gertie ought to know.

It was her successor who had taught it to me.

So why was she pressing for even more than I’d already had to tell her?

“Rules,” she told me, “are guidelines for normal practice. This is a little beyond normal, wouldn’t you say?”

How the hell would I know? I thought resentfully. I didn’t do normal. I did nail-biting anxiety, constant self-doubt, and terror. That was normal for me.

But good luck explaining that to Gertie, who had probably never doubted herself in her entire life. She’d been in her element all night, barking orders, striding about, and organizing the shit out of everyone. Including the huge, dripping-with-weapons war mages who made up her bodyguard, and who scared the crap out of most people who met them.

Except for Gertie, who had been using them like errand boys without a second thought.

That’s a Pythia, I’d thought, watching a couple