“For a place that everyone hates, they’re trying damned hard to get in,” Marco said sourly, because he wasn’t a fan of the invasion. “And what was that about Mircea?”
I didn’t answer because it was too complex of a story for the hike to my bathroom, long though it was. My bedroom/sitting room/balcony/bath combo was as big as some apartments, and bigger than the one I’d had in Atlanta, before I got tapped for this job. I could have put my old digs and most of the apartment next door in here, and it had been advertised as a “spacious two-bedroom property.”
Of course, “spacious” had been relative, meaning that my dining table had folded down from the wall, and you couldn’t enter the kitchen if it was set for dinner. But sometimes I missed it. Like now, I thought, as Marco followed me into the cool embrace of my bath. It was blue and white and Greek isle themed, and had a tub the size of a small pool.
God, I loved my bathroom!
Normally.
“I need to shower,” I told my s
talker, but trying to move a vampire, especially one the size of Gibraltar who doesn’t want to be moved, is a waste of time.
“You slip out of the apartment,” he said heavily, “without telling anybody—”
“I said I was taking a nap. You should have assumed—”
“—are gone for hours—”
“—that I didn’t want to be disturbed—”
“—come back reeking of alien blood—”
“—so if you were worried, it was your own fault. You shouldn’t have been in here!”
“—and what the hell is wrong with your eyes?”
Crap.
I checked them out in the mirror over the sink. And, sure enough, they were back at it again. Dimmer than before, but brighter than they were supposed to be. Like way brighter. I looked like I was wearing some of those colored contacts that made your eyes really vivid.
No wonder Pritkin had known something was up!
“Cassie.” It was Marco’s serious voice, which meant that I wasn’t going to be able to dodge an explanation for much longer.
“I have to get a bath,” I reiterated. “And while I’m doing that, I need—”
I almost said Hilde, who was an all-around badass with magic. But she was also old school Pythian Court, meaning that she’d probably be after Mircea with a stake and a hammer before I could finish explaining. And, knowing her, she might just catch him.
“—the coven girls,” I finished.
Marco cocked an eyebrow at me, but I can be stubborn, too. I guessed he decided it would be easier to wait me out. He left.
I started to get undressed, but before I’d gotten very far, I heard something from the attached dressing room. It wasn’t a big noise, hardly anything at all. But I was so keyed up these days that it sounded like an airplane taking off.
Or like someone moving around in there.
I thought about getting Marco back, but the days when I needed a big, strong vamp to protect me were over, even if he didn’t know it. He did a great job of guarding the initiates, but I could take care of myself. And if anyone had managed to breech my court’s defenses and threaten my girls, they were going to answer to me.
And I’d be worse than ten Marcos!
I didn’t bother with a weapon, despite there being a gun in my makeup bag. Because yes, I had the kind of life where I needed a gun in my makeup bag. But I did lace my hand with a bit of the Pythian power, to make rapid-fire spell casting even more so, and crept closer.
My bathroom was huge, to the point that it freaking echoed, but my dressing area was smaller and more intimate. It had room for a dressing table and chair, a tufted poof, a mural of quasi Greekness, and a large, walk-in closet. The sounds, I determined, were coming from the closet.
I scanned the rest of the room anyway, in case who or whatever was in here had back up. I didn’t trust my eyes after today, but my nose didn’t pick up much, either. And considering how fey glamouries reeked, I doubted I’d be able to miss one even with only human senses.
But all I smelled was face powder, nail polish remover, and—