Nick suddenly stilled, not moving, not even breathing, and for a second it was creepily like what a vamp could do. "This" — he stopped and swallowed—“this is the Codex, isn't it? You found it."

"Yeah, only it doesn't do me much good since I can't read it." He just sat there, so I nudged him with a toe. "Now, Nick."

"Right, right." He came back to life with a vengeance, sifting through the pages rapidly, looking for the right spell. "This may take a while," he muttered. "There are hundreds of spells here and I don't see an index…oh, wait."

"You found one?"

"Better." His bangs flopped in his eyes and he pushed them impatiently back. "I may have found the spell."

"You're serious?" I stared at him, scarcely daring to hope. The damn geis had thwarted me at every turn for weeks; it was almost impossible to believe that I might be free of it in a few minutes.

"This may take some time, Cassie. You can, uh, go get changed if you want."

Yes, I definitely needed to freshen up. My hands were covered in small bruises, my nails were cracked and there was dirt pressed into the grooves of my palms. My hair was a frazzled mess and I was covered in dust from the brief spelunking trip. But Nick was just going to have to deal with me in all my witchy glory, because no way was the Codex leaving my sight. No freaking way.

He got a good look at my expression and gave up, going back to translating duty. I sat down opposite him and peered into the ubiquitous little china pot. But only a vague floral scent remained. I put a call in to the kitchens for some coffee, figuring both of us could use it, and concentrated on not falling asleep until it got there.

"How much do you know about the Circle, Cassie?" Nick asked suddenly.

I yawned. "Other than that they want to kill me? Not a lot."

"Yes, I am aware that you have had your differences in the past."

"And present. Is there a point, Nick?" I wanted translation, not conversation.

"Well, yes, actually. It's just that, I thought you should know—you're not alone. There are many of us who have been growing dissatisfied with the Circle for some time. Only we don't all agree about the remedy. Some of us see the whole system as the problem, not simply the group in power at the moment. We view the war as a chance to change old ideas, to remake it, in fact, into something closer to the type of government the vampires have. Then there wouldn't be little groups of megalomaniacs making crucial mistakes for everyone."

Actually I thought that pretty much summed up the Senate. "You mean, with one person in charge?"

"Not necessarily. Just a more centralized authority, with better oversight of everyone's activities and more checks and balances on their behavior."

"There aren't a lot of checks and balances on the Senate," I pointed out. "None, in fact."

"Yet it works! Instead of elections turning into popularity contests, you have the best people appointed for each position by a concerned, capable leader."

"I don't think I'd describe the Consul quite that way," I said dryly. "She got her position by being the strongest and the craftiest, full stop."

"But she rules well. People respect her."

"People fear her!"

"All strong leaders are feared by the ignorant," Nick commented, patently not listening to a word I said. "We could learn a great deal from the vampires, if prejudice did not stand in the way."

I laughed; I just couldn't help it. The mages seemed to have a seriously warped view of the vamps. Pritkin saw them as evil incarnate, while Nick was determined to set them on a pedestal. He didn't look too pleased at my amusement, though, so I tried to explain while he looked up a particularly obscure word.

"The vamp system works because of the bonds that force subordinate vampires to do the will of their masters and require masters to answer for the infractions of their followers. The mages don't have that kind of setup. And you can't expect people to—"

"Perhaps if we did, we could coordinate our efforts and stamp out the dark once and for all!" he interrupted. "As it is, they stay one step ahead of us merely by crossing into another coven's territory, and by the time we get through all the debates and favors and bribes and finally get the needed permission to go after them, they're gone again!"

He was looking pretty annoyed, with flushed cheeks under all those freckles. I'd have changed the subject, but something was bugging me. "I thought the Circle was the central authority. Isn't it in charge of the whole magical community?"

"No," he snapped. "That's the problem. What we have now is sort of an umbrella organization. Not every coven worldwide belongs to it—we're especially spotty in Asia—and even those who are members joined at different times and with different agreements."

"I didn't know that." The vamps always talked about the Circle like it was synonymous with mages in general. Of course, in this country it might be. I'd never thought about it being different anywhere else.

"It's a total hodgepodge!" Nick said heatedly. "Some covens don't allow searches of their territory at all and others only after receiving definite proof that questionable activity is going on. And, of course, sometimes we don't have proof, just a gut feeling or a tip from someone they don't recognize as a legitimate source. And explaining that our sources wouldn't know the dark well enough to have information if they were legit gets us nowhere nine times out of ten. It would be so much easier if we all answered to one authority."

"A dictatorship, in other words." Pritkin had come into the room without my hearing him. I jumped, trying to stand up and whirl around at the same time, and almost ended up on the floor. He caught me, and I tore away as soon as I could find my feet, panting a little, glaring a lot. "I see you made it back safely."

"It doesn't have to be anything of the kind," Nick argued, apparently not realizing that no one was listening to him anymore.

Pritkin looked like he'd just come from a bath; his hair—short and pale blond again—was plastered down in wet strands that disturbed me for some reason I couldn't quite define. Maybe because it drew attention to his face, like the older, longer version had. Maybe because it made me remember the last time I'd seen it wet, slick with sweat and glistening.

God, I hated him!

"You!" I couldn't even talk, I had so many things I wanted to say. "You knew!" It was the only thing I could get out, the only words that didn't threaten to choke me.

"No, I didn't. At the time, I merely thought you were a competent witch who was attempting to rob me."

"Don't lie! You saw me shift!"

"I thought you'd clouded my mind, you or the vampire. My defenses were down, my shields almost exhausted. It seemed a reasonable conclusion."

"And when we met again? You didn't recognize me?"

"After so long, no. Not immediately. I had wondered a few times, but I didn't know. Not until I saw the dress." He looked over the tattered remains. "It was memorable."

"More than me, it would seem," I said tightly.

"Nick, if you could give us a moment?"

"But I'm right in the middle of…" He saw the looks we turned on him and gulped. "Or—or I could go see what's keeping that coffee," he squeaked, and headed out the door. He tried to take the page he was working on with him, but I held out a hand and he reluctantly handed it over.

"You found it, then." Pritkin's voice held no emotion whatsoever. He'd learned a lot in two hundred years.

"And I'm keeping it."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that, Cassie."

I laughed, and even to me, it sounded bitter. "Oh, it's Cassie, now, is it? So, let me make sure I have it straight. It's Ms. Palmer when you're pretending to be loyal, and Cassie when you're stabbing me in the back. Good to know."