Extraits

"you're a hard woman, cassie palmer;"

I wished. like i wished i didn't notice the fondness in his eyes, or the way they up at the corners when he smiled. or the strong throat revealed by the open colar of the shirt. or the way the muscles in his bulged under the fine fabric of his trousers when he rested it againts the side of the desk.

Or a hundred other things i wasn't cataloging, because none of them had anything to do with me anymore !

"where is he, by the way ?" mircea asked abruptly.

"what ?"

"this war mage of yours. Pritkin, as he calls himself now. shouldn't he be there ?"

"here ?"

"or in las vegas, at least?"

"I" I paused, seriously confused now, eating, and talking with my bodyguards. hadn't he ? for a weird, mind-altering moment, i actualy wondered if I'd imagined all that, because otherwise... something very weird was going on.

(...)

"he's been in london, debriefing with jonas_"

"but jonas was heretoday, wasn't he ?"

mircea lit up one of his little cigarettes.

"I should have thought mage pritkin would be with him."

"he's...they're probably done by now."

"probably? then he hasn't called?"

I narrowed my eyes, because that had been feigned surprise if i'd ever heart it. wfat was this? some kind of test? because i really wasn't in the mood.

"we're not doing this." i told him.

"doing what?"

the innocent look was fake as shit, too.

"I am merely expressing surprise that a man whom you chassed accross time, at considerable risk yo yourself, can't take a moment to pick up a phone. that is all."

I had to bite my lip on about a hundred comments, any one of wich would just prolong this. I was already tired. and i didn't stand a chance against mircea in a contest of wits even when i was rested.

but then one slipped out anyway.

"forgive me, but weren't we talking about retrieving your wife ?"

"rescuing. and ex-wife."

"she isn't your ex-wife if she doesn't die, mircea !"

"but i did." he pointed out.

“You won’t look that good,”

I told the women, who were staring at them. “There won’t be anything left of you at all, except possibly for bones. They tend to be more resilient.”

“She’s bluffing!” Ingaret said again. “No one can channel that much power!"

“No human,” I repeated. “I’m not one.” And I gave it everything I had, everything I had left, until it felt like I’d hollowed out my , bones stripped my veins, bled out. Until I would have screamed, but I didn’t have the strength left, because I’d just poured it all into that last, final

PUSH.

I groaned and the mighty table cracked and broke and splintered. It sounded like a hundred guns going off as the great slab cleaved straight down the middle, falling into two distinct halves that hit the ground and all but disintegrated. The remaining chairs exploded in fantastic showers of gold, like brilliant fireworks in the gloom. And

Ingaret’s own spell finally hit the back wall of the senate chamber anddetonated, shaking the room and sending a red glow sifting through the air.

And reflecting in my eyes, or so I was told later, making me look half-angel, half-demon as I shouted: “Run!”

They ran.