"Okay." I didn't attempt to make small talk. I was about to learn what the Senate wanted, and since I was absolutely sure I wasn't going to like it, I didn't feel like helping things along.

"Mia Stella." Rafe glanced at Mircea, who cocked an eyebrow at him unhelpfully. Poor Rafe; he always got the crappy jobs. "Could you tell us, who is Françoise?"

I stared at him. Of all the things I'd thought he might say, that would have been near the bottom. In fact, it wasn't even on the list. "What?"

"You mentioned her to me," Louis-César said, moving to crouch in front of me. I shrank back, even though he'd carried me around the parking lot and nothing had happened. I didn't feel like taking chances. "At the casino."

"Don't you want to talk about Tony? He's selling slaves to the Fey."

"We know," Mircea answered. "One of the witches you assisted came to the Circle to describe her captivity. I was allowed to sit in on the questioning, since Antonio is my responsibility. The mages are… quite concerned, as you can imagine."

I was confused. "Maybe I'm being slow here, but why witches? Wouldn't humans be easier targets?" The women I'd freed had certainly been no welterweights, as one dead mage proved.

"For centuries, after their own bloodlines began to die out, that was their strategy. Have you not heard the stories about human infants being spirited away by the Fey?" Mircea asked. I nodded—it was standard fairy tale stuff. "Such children were brought up in Faerie and married into some of their great houses. It did improve their fertility, but they soon noticed that the magical ability in the children of such unions was considerably less than their own."

"So they started stealing witches."

"Yes, but an agreement was worked out between the Fey and the Silver Circle in 1624, stating that no more abductions were to take place."

"I guess it's sort of void now."

Mircea smiled. "On the contrary. The light elves swear they know nothing of this practice, and that it is solely the dark who are involved." I frowned. From what Billy had said, it sounded like the opposite was true. "The dark, of course, claim the reverse," Mircea said, noticing my expression, "but in any case, it is not our concern. We will not be drawn into Fey politics because of one person's greed, as we made clear to their ambassadors a few hours ago. Antonio will be dealt with, but that ends our involvement."

I wasn't surprised. Despite their presence at MAGIC, the vamps had never been all that interested in other species' affairs. They cooperated as far as they did only to guard their own interests. "Just the one witch came forward? What happened to the other two?"

"They must have been dark," Pritkin said, watching me narrowly, "under interdict by the Circle for their crimes. Otherwise they would not have been so quick to flee. Our witch learned little about them because they were gagged much of the time. But she said that one of them recognized you and insisted that they help you against the dark mage. Yet you said you did not know them."

"I don't." I couldn't tell him about Franchise—it would sound crazy and I didn't understand it myself. Magic users tend to live longer than most humans, but witch or no, if it had really been her in that French castle, she should be long dead of old age. Not to mention that it took some memory to immediately recall the face of a person seen for a few minutes hundreds of years ago. I'd recognized her because, for me, our meeting had just happened. But how she had known me was an open question.

"And I suppose you also do not know the pixie who aided you in freeing your servants? She is a well-known operative of the Dark Fey."

Pritkin was getting on my nerves. "No, I don't. And they weren't my servants."

"You told me you watched Franchise burn to death." Louis-César was apparently a single-minded kind of guy.

I decided to go with his comment, since Pritkin didn't believe anything I said anyway. "What happened to the mage? Did you kill him?"

"You see; she doesn't even try to deny it!" Pritkin came striding across the room. I'd have figured out he was pissed off even if I hadn't been able to see him, since my new toy jumped against my wrist with an almost electric tickle. I managed not to yelp, but I stuffed my hand farther into the pocket of the robe so the bracelet didn't show. Something told me Pritkin wouldn't be happy to see it.

Tomas had moved to stand between us. It unnerved me that I hadn't seen him do it, but I was grateful to have a barrier between me and the mage. The guys at Tony's had always believed that war mages were dangerous, bloodthirsty and crazy. Considering that the people saying this were multiple murderers who worked for a homicidal vampire, I tended to take their opinion seriously.

"Why would I deny it? Possessing him saved your life." I hadn't expected a thank-you, but it would've been nice if he'd stopped glaring at me.

"I would prefer to die than be saved by the dark arts!"

"We'll keep that in mind next time," Tomas said. I giggled. I wasn't trying to antagonize anyone, but I was dizzy from hunger and exhausted. At the moment, it really was funny. Only Pritkin didn't seem to think so.

Mircea stood up as someone rapped on the door. "Ah, breakfast. Tempers will doubtless be better after we have dined." A young man wheeled in a cart that had me salivating from the smell alone.

A few minutes later, I was halfway through a tray of pancakes, sausage, hash browns and fresh fruit. It had been served on a nice silver platter with real china dishes, linen napkins and genuine maple syrup, mellowing my mood towards the Senate considerably. I'd just poured myself more tea when Pritkin made a sound of disgust. I couldn't imagine what his problem was; he had a tray, too.

"It doesn't bother you at all, does it?" he demanded. I noticed that not only was he not eating, but he was staring at me the way I had probably looked at the wererats at the casino. Like I was something he couldn't quite figure out but knew he didn't like. My mouth was full so I raised an eyebrow at him. He gestured wildly. "Look at them!"

I forked up some sausage and glanced around. The vampires were feeding, but they weren't having pancakes. They can eat solid food, as Tony proved often enough, but they can't obtain nourishment from it. There's only one thing that will give them that, and they were taking full advantage. Louis-César had apparently already eaten, or maybe it was true about what they said of the Senate, that its members were so powerful that they had to feed only about once a week. Rafe, Mircea and Tomas had joined me for breakfast, however, and they were, of course, dining on the satyr-were hybrids from Dante's.

I'd seen similar scenes so often growing up that it had hardly registered. Any prisoners taken alive were always used for food. One of the few things considered truly depraved in vamp circles is to waste blood, even that of shape-shifters. Blood is precious; blood is life. I had grown up with that mantra; apparently, Pritkin had not.

The only thing that sort of threw me was the sight of Tomas feeding from the neck of a handsome young were who looked vaguely familiar. He had chocolate brown eyes that matched the dark fur that started halfway down his hips and framed his heavy sex. He'd been stripped and bound hand and foot with thick silver chains. That was standard operating procedure since humiliation was part of the punishment, but I thought it might be less than effective in this case. I didn't know how he felt about the chains—weres aren't fond of silver—but satyrs actually prefer to be nude. They believe wearing clothing suggests they have something to hide, that some part of their bodies isn't perfect. This one didn't have anything to be ashamed of, and his body was reacting to the feeding in the usual manner, making him even more impressive. It must have been an involuntary response, though; his face was so distorted with fear that it took me a minute to identify him as the waiter who had greeted me at the satyr bar.