The sound of steel on steel filled the air, like a blade being unsheathed. No. The betrayer has repented and is forgiven. And while the other has yet to choose her final path, it is she who called me forth. Again I say, begone.

I felt the power surging and risked a peek. The dragon shimmered, changing shape, becoming something more humanlike, but huge, and somehow both hideous and soul-searingly beautiful. He reached forward and grabbed the spear that I was wrapped around. I relaxed fractionally just in time as he pulled it free with no visible effort. Blood and flesh sprayed across me. But still I protected Okalani’s ravaged body.

A flurry of sound and motion outside the circle drew my attention. Through a wall of flames I saw Bruno, Creede, Igor, and a priest in full regalia pouring through the doorway into the room.

I couldn’t hear the priest speak, but I saw his lips move. He was performing the ritual banishment. He looked so terrified—they all did—and I realized with a shock that they thought I was alone and unprotected.

As I should have been.

My faith, while real, is shaky at best. And the demon had been right about my being tainted. It wasn’t just that I was part vampire; I’d been marked by a demon once before.

The voice in my mind was patient, kind, and loud. No one is perfect. But you do have faith. You hold truth dear. You hold loyalty sacred. And some days, that is enough.

The demon snarled and paced around the parts of the circle he could reach, eyes blazing with hate every time he reached the invisible boundary line created by the light. I began to think I might survive.

As I watched, the priest dipped the sprinkler into the bucket of holy water and flung a spray of liquid into the air above the circle. The drops passed through the barrier as if it weren’t there. The demon howled his defiance even while he dodged frantically, trying to avoid being hit. Drops splattered to the ground. When the water hit the being of white fire, the flames soared, turning it whole and perfect. Nearly too perfect to look at.

Again and again the priest repeated his actions, until the floor of the casting circle was covered in water and there was nowhere left for the minion of hell to hide.

As the priest raised the sprinkler one last time, the fallen angel called out. Jan’s corpse levitated up from the floor and flew into his clawed hand.

He turned to me with a chilling smile. I will see you in your dreams, dear one. We are linked, you and I. For all eternity.

Then he was gone.

34

“I would like a private word with the princess.” Igor stood just inside the door to my private hospital room. It was 4:00 A.M. but he looked as fresh as if it was the beginning of his day. He’d showered and changed clothes in the hours since I’d last seen him. Looking at him now, you’d have no clue that he’d been up all night dealing with the fallout of everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. His black suit was immaculate, the crease in his pants sharp enough to shave with. The white dress shirt he wore almost gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Bruno, on the other hand, was a wreck. Slumped in the chair at my bedside, he wore the same clothes he’d thrown on in a hurry yesterday morning; his hair was rumpled and he had more than a shadow of a beard. Still, he was alert and wary as he sat up straighter in his seat. The look he gave me said as clearly as words that he didn’t think I was up to this.

He might have been right.

I am a fairly tough cookie, but everybody has a limit, and I was coming perilously close to mine. It wasn’t the violence, or even the demon—although I wondered if I’d ever relax enough to sleep soundly again. No, it was the memories. The things I’d seen in Mexico had cracked the protective magical shield that had blunted my memories of Ivy’s death and my torture. Seeing what had happened to Okalani had shattered that barrier entirely.

I remembered every cigarette burn, every cut, the threats and the terror. But most of all, I remembered my sheer helplessness as I watched my sister die a hideously gruesome death because she couldn’t control the ghouls her talent had raised. Each memory was as vivid, as raw, as the day it had happened.

I looked at Igor, who was standing silent and patient, then took a deep breath and shoved the memories into a box in my mind. I slammed down the lid and hoped it would hold. “I’ll be fine,” I said to Bruno. “Let us talk.”

Bruno didn’t argue, he just stood. He bent down to give me a tender kiss. Still leaning close, he whispered, “Whatever he wants, say no. You’ve done enough—more than enough.”

I didn’t answer. It wasn’t Bruno’s decision to make. It was mine. But I had to admit that I was leaning toward having the doctors give me enough sedatives to knock out an elephant, in hopes that I would be too deeply unconscious to dream.

Bruno straightened and shook his head. Walking past Igor, he gave the older man a very unfriendly look, but didn’t say a word. Only after the door was fully closed and we were alone did Igor come over to stand beside the bed.

“You are stronger than he knows,” Igor observed.

And more fragile than you think, I thought. What I said was, “What do you need?”

He looked down at me, his expression so utterly bland that it was at odds with his words. “We interrogated Princess Olga thoroughly.” I winced. He didn’t say torture, but I couldn’t help thinking it. “While the man you knew as Jan Mortensen was one of their top men, he was not the head of the organization. That man is still in place. So long as he lives, the movement will continue.”

I didn’t speak, just waited. There was more. I could tell.

“They have one final plan in place for during the wedding tomorrow.” He sighed, sounding weary. Either the strain of the last few days was showing, or he was a superlative actor. I couldn’t tell. But the regret in his voice when he spoke next sounded sincere. “Unfortunately, the oath she had taken killed her before she could give us any details. But we have a plan.”

Of course they did, and judging by his presence here, it involved me. “Tell me.”

“We do not believe that the enemy knows that we discovered Princess Olga was the traitor. Her arrest was handled discreetly, as was her questioning. We have a spawn on staff who is capable of being Princess Olga for the duration of the wedding. He is one of our best agents. Having him in place in the wedding party will assure the safety of the king and offer us the opportunity to surprise the enemy, and possibly lead him into an indiscretion that will reveal the identity of their leader.”

It was possible. I wouldn’t have thought it was likely, but I wasn’t a spy. Igor was, and was good enough at his job to have risen to the top of the Ruslandic intelligence agency during a time of serious political turmoil. Too, the fact that it was the best chance didn’t mean it was a good one. I gave Igor a searching look and asked the million-dollar question. “Who do you think it is?”

“We don’t know,” he admitted. “But it has to be someone highly placed and close enough to the royal family for Olga to have been able to contact him or her freely and without notice. We have had her under close surveillance for the past several weeks.”

It made sense. And while Igor hadn’t said that Olga’s father, Prince Arkady, was a prime suspect, he had to be. Poor Dahlmar. He had already had to deal with the betrayal of his sons and his niece. Now his brother was a suspect, too. “So, what do you want from me?”

“Just do what you have been. Be the maid of honor. Guard the princess until the wedding is over.”

“That’s it?”

“We will handle the rest.”

He sounded awfully confident, but was he really? If he was that confident, why even tell me the plan? I could have just guarded her without needing to know all of this. I was emotionally battered and utterly weary. I wanted to crawl in a hole and not come out for at least a month, and they knew it. So why tell me?

Because Adriana needed me. If I quit now, and something happened to her, I would never forgive myself.

Igor watched while I worked it out in my head. “So telling me the plan will keep me in the wedding party, huh? Sadly, you’re right. But hey, how bad can it be?” I asked with a forced smile, even though I knew how stupid a question it was.

Igor smiled with me. His baring of teeth was as cynical as mine. What a pair we were.

* * *

Igor pulled strings so that I was released from the hospital immediately and with minimal fuss. Bruno didn’t say a word in argument, just glowered menacingly at all and sundry. I found this equally annoying and endearing. I was glad that he loved me and was worried about me. At the same time, I was irritated that he was trying to protect me, for the same reason I’d objected to protection in the first place. I knew that didn’t make sense, but emotions frequently don’t.

The doctor met alone with me one last time before letting me go.

Dr. Shablinski was an older woman, probably in her sixties. She wore her hair in a short, spiky style that suited her harsh features. She was striking but not pretty. And right now, she was annoyed and wasn’t bothering to hide it. I could hear it all too clearly in her heavily accented mental voice when she spoke to me mind-to-mind.

I am not pleased that you are leaving the hospital. It is too soon. Your ears will not be fully healed, and there is post-traumatic stress that needs to be dealt with. You must rest in order to heal, and I am certain you will not if you leave. So while I cannot stop you, you are doing this against medical advice.

I shrugged. What was there to say? I understand and, actually, I agree with you. Once the wedding is over, I intend to take a nice, long vacation.

A … vacation. Her voice sounded dry in my head. How do you plan to do that if you can’t sleep?

Ouch. She was evidently as observant as she was efficient.

I don’t know. I keep remembering … I let the sentence drag off unfinished, not wanting to repeat the demon’s parting words to me.

She sighed. I am going to order a sedative for you—but only enough pills for one week. It will allow you dreamless slumber, but it is not a permanent solution. You will need to work something out with your cleric, and I would strongly suggest therapy. If you don’t have a therapist—