Briarwood's outer walls were thick. Surreal didn't notice.
This time . . . This time she would wash the walls in blood.
The shield was there, braided by the strength of two. Fools. Two Reds might have slowed her down if they were aware of her presence. But Kartane and Uncle Bobby? Never. Never.
Surreal unleashed one short blast of power from her Gray Jewel. The shield around the room shattered.
Surreal leaped. Landing in the small room, she whirled to face the man on the bed. Even as he thrust into the too-still body under him, he raised his head, his face twisted with hatred and lust.
Lunging forward, Surreal grabbed his hair with one hand and slashed Titian's knife across his throat.
The blood sang as the white walls turned red.
Still pushing forward and up, Surreal drove the knife into his heart, lifting him off the bed with the strength of her rage.
He fell to the floor, Titian's knife still in his heart while his maimed hands groped feebly for one heartbeat, two.
Finish the kill.
Squatting over the still body, Surreal pulled out her other knife to drive it through his brain, intending to use the steel as a channel for the Gray to break and destroy what the husk still contained. As she raised her arm for the final strike, Rose's low moan made her glance at the bed.
There was a pool of blood between Jaenelle's legs. Too much blood.
Surreal leaned over the bed. Her stomach rolled.
Jaenelle stared at the ceiling, her unblinking eyes never changing when Surreal passed her hand in front of them. Her body was a mass of bruises; a cut on her lip leaked blood.
Surreal glanced back at the Warlord and noticed scratches on his face and shoulders. So. She had fought for a while.
Surreal felt for a pulse and found one. Weak and growing weaker.
Something hit the locked door.
"Greer!" someone shouted. "Greer, what's going on?"
"Damn!" The word exploded out with her breath as she quickly Gray-locked the door. Pulling Titian's knife from Greer's heart, Surreal hesitated for just a moment, then shook her head. She didn't have the minute it would take. She cut the cords that bound Jaenelle's ankles and wrists to the bed, wrapped the girl in the bloody sheet, lifted the bundle against her, and, Gray shielding herself and her precious burden, made the pass through the walls.
Once outside, Surreal ran. When they finally broke the Gray lock and found Greer, they would be pouring out of the doors in pursuit. And following the blood scent, they would be able to trace her.
There was only one place to go, and once there, she would need help.
Putting her heart into it, Surreal sent a summons along the Gray.
"Sadi!"
No answer.
"Sadi!"
"NO!"
Saetan's roar thundered through the cavern, drowning out the sound of feet racing down the stairs.
"SaDiablo!" Andulvar yelled as he leaped into the cavern. "We heard a scream. What's—"
Saetan pivoted, teeth bared, spearing Draca with eyes filled with cold rage. "And now?" he said too softly.
"We'll ride the Winds," Prothvar said, pulling out his knife.
"No time," Mephis countered. "It'll be too late."
"Draca," Geoffrey said.
Draca never blinked, never flinched from Saetan's glazed stare.
"Saetan—" Andulvar began.
Draca closed her eyes.
A voice filled their minds, a rumble as if the Keep itself sighed.
A male voice.
"Sspear to sspear, High Lord. That iss the only way now. Her blood runss. If sshe diess now—"
"She'll walk among the cildru dyathe. "
So much sorrow in that voice. "Dreamss made flessh do not become cildru dyathe, High Lord. Sshe will be losst to uss."
"Who are you to say this to me?" Saetan snarled.
"Lorn."
Saetan's heart stopped for a beat.
"You have the courage, High Lord, to do what you musst do. The other male will be your insstrument."
The sighing rumble faded.
The cavern was very still.
Turning carefully, Saetan once more faced the red-misted tether line.
And the Blood shall sing to the Blood.
Don't think. Be an instrument.
Everything has a price.
Locked in his cold, still rage, Saetan slowly drew on the power in the web, the power in his Jewels, and the power in himself until he had formed a three-edged psychic spear. With his eyes and will fixed on the Jewel chip, he sent a single, thundering summons.
"SADI!"
"Sadi!"
"Sadi!"
"SADI!"
Daemon jerked awake, head pounding, heart pounding, body throbbing. Groaning, he rubbed his fist back and forth across his forehead.
And remembered.
"Sadi, please."
Daemon frowned. Even that movement hurt. "Surreal?"
A gasping sob. "Hurry. To the Altar."
"Surreal, what—"
"She's bleeding! "
He didn't remember making the pass. One moment he was cramped in the underground rectangle, the next he was braced against the tree, eyes closed, waiting for the world to stop spinning. "Surreal, get to the Altar. Now."
"The uncles will be coming after us."
The Sadist bared his teeth in a vicious smile. "Let them come."
The link broke. Surreal was already riding the Winds to Cassandra's Altar.
Daemon clung to the tree. His body could give him nothing. The Black Jewels were still drained and could give him nothing. Needing strength, he greedily drained the reserve power in his Birthright Red.
"SADI!"
The power behind that thundering voice hit his Red strength and absorbed it as easily as a lake absorbs a pail of water.
Daemon clamped his hands over his head and fell to his knees. That power was tightening like a band of iron inside his head, threatening to smash his inner barriers. Snarling, he lashed back with the little strength he had left.
"Daemon."
Glacial rage waited for him just outside the first barrier, but now he recognized the voice.
"Priest?" Daemon let out a gasp of relief. "Father, pull back a little. I can't . . . It's too strong."
The power pulled back—a little.
"You are my instrument."
"No."
The psychic band tightened.
"I serve no one but Witch. Not even you, Priest," Daemon snarled.
The band loosened, became a caress. "I, too, serve her, Prince. That's why I need you. Her blood runs."
Daemon fought to stand up, fought to breathe. "I know. She's being taken to Cassandra's Altar." He hurt. Hell's fire, how he hurt.
"Let me in, namesake. I won't harm you."
Daemon hesitated, then opened himself fully. He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming as the icy rage swept into his mind. His vision doubled. He felt the tree against his back. He also felt cold stone beneath bare feet.
The stone faded, but not completely. He slowly opened and closed his hand. It felt as though he were wearing a glove beneath his skin. Then that too faded, but not completely.
"You're controlling my body," Daemon said with a trace of bitterness.
"Not controlling. By joining this way, my strength will be a well for you to tap and, in turn, I will be able to see and understand what we must do to help her."
Daemon pushed himself away from the tree. He swayed, but another pair of legs held firm. Taking a deep breath, he caught the Black Wind and hurled himself toward Cassandra's Altar.
Daemon hurried through the ruins of the Sanctuary's outer rooms. The footsteps he'd heard a moment ago stopped. Now an angry Gray wall blocked the corridor that led into the labyrinth of inner rooms.