I nodded. Cysgod would shadow Pryce, as always, but if Pryce had to maintain his human form to do his dirty work, Cysgod would be restricted to Uffern, unable to materialize in the Ordinary.
“Now, about Mr. Kane.” Mab jutted her chin toward the Land Rover. “Can he hold his own in a fight?”
I knew why she was asking. Kane was tall and muscular, but with his tailored suits and expensive haircut, he didn’t look like a fighter. For the three days of the full moon, he became a ravenous wolf-monster. For the rest of the month, he was a cultivated sophisticate who loved art and wine and believed passionately in justice. If a full moon had been rising, I’d tell Mab, Sure, no problem, Kane could take on half a dozen Pryces all by himself. But we were several days past the full moon, which meant Kane’s beast was waning, too.
At the Land Rover, Kane was stowing his suitcase. He’d changed into jeans and a heavy gray sweatshirt. He looked good but strange; he almost never wore casual clothes. A pang hit me. I didn’t want him to get hurt.
Mab cleared her throat, waiting for me to answer her question.
“I don’t know, Mab. Once he helped me pull a vampire and a zombie off a human, but I’ve never seen him fight.”
“He’s a lone wolf?”
I nodded.
“All right,” she said decisively. “I think he’ll do.”
“No, wait.” Suddenly I wished with all my heart that Kane was at Maenllyd, safely holed up in the blue bedroom. “Why do we need him? You and I have trained for this. We know what we’re up against. Kane doesn’t. He just got off a plane, for God’s sake.”
“We’ll ask him, shall we?” She spun on her heel and marched toward the Land Rover.
Great. Kane would never agree to sit around and twiddle his thumbs while my aunt and I went into the mine to face Pryce.
I caught up with Mab, who was already speaking with Kane. I barged between them. “Kane,” I said, “wait out here with Jenkins, okay? You’re tired, you’ve had a long trip. It’s not fair to push you into the middle of our fight.”
Kane scowled, like I knew he would. “I’m fine. I slept on the plane. And nobody’s pushing me. When have you ever seen me back down from a fight?”
“Pryce will be armed, and you’re not a swordsman. What are you going to do in there?” I gestured toward the mine. “File a motion?”
His gray eyes darkened. Good. I knew how to rile him. If I got him angry enough, maybe he’d storm off—preferably far, far away from the mine.
Mab stepped forward. “Victory, there’s no time for an argument. Mr. Kane wishes to join us, and I agree he could prove useful. End of conversation.”
I glared at both of them. I never expected to keep Kane out of the mine, not really, but I had to try. And now I’d lost the equilibrium I’d worked to achieve. I was so far off my center it was amazing I could stand up straight.
“All right.” I threw up my hands. “Let’s do this.”
Mab handed out supplies. She gave us each a miner’s headlamp and a flashlight for backup. She also gave Kane two bronze-bladed knives. I clipped the flashlight to my belt and put on my headlamp, adjusting the straps so they were secure but not too tight. I flicked the switch a couple of times, testing it. A spot of light appeared and disappeared on the stones that tumbled down the hillside.
“Now,” said Mab, “here’s how we’ll proceed. Jenkins, you’ll remain here with the car. You know what Pryce looks like?”
Jenkins nodded. “I’ve run across him once or twice at the Cross and Crow.”
“Good. If Pryce emerges from the mine, whether in human or demon form, do not challenge him. Let him go. If one of us fails to follow him within ten minutes, drive to the village and summon assistance.”
“Ten minutes. Got it.”
She turned to Kane and me. “Our objective is to prevent Pryce from releasing the Morfran imprisoned in the slate here. The main Morfran deposit is in a cavern two levels down, and that’s what Pryce is after. Getting there will be treacherous. The passageways slope quite steeply; they’re narrow and filled with loose rock and debris. Watch out for sudden drop-offs. Watch out for water, as well. There’s an underground river, and I don’t know how it may have changed course since I was last here. Parts of the mine may be flooded.”
Kane nodded, looking like the star quarterback on a college football team taking instructions from his coach.
“As I said to Jenkins,” Mab continued, “Pryce may appear as a human”—she briefly described him to Kane—“or, if threatened, he may take his demon form. To release the Morfran, however, he must be in human form. I believe that’s how we’ll encounter him here.”
Kane nodded again. Got it, Coach.
“Should Pryce manage to free any Morfran, I will perform the ritual that returns it to the slate. In that case, your job is to distract Pryce so I can work. He’ll be carrying an oaken staff; get it away from him if you can. Without the oak, he cannot free the Morfran. But at any rate, you must keep him busy. Wound either arm; it will weaken his ability to do the releasing spell. Drive him from the cavern. If you can, kill him.”
Kane’s face paled. Could he kill Pryce—or anyone? As a wolf, he ran down the deer that stocked his werewolf retreat. But take a person’s life? I didn’t know.
Mab appraised him. “Mr. Kane, you say you wish to go into that mine with us. Good. But if you do, you must be prepared to kill Pryce. He looks human, but he’s of demonic stock. He’s killed many times, gladly and without pity. Even knowing that, you may be reluctant to end his life. Perhaps you’ll understand his nature better if I supply the details Victory left out of her account of her dealings with her ‘cousin.’ ”
“No, don’t—”
She talked over me. “In the short time Vicky has been in Wales, Pryce has beaten her severely and twice attempted to kill her. He’ll certainly try again, most likely today. If she survives, he intends to force her to bear his children.”
Her words had their desired effect. Kane bristled, his eyes glowing with a dangerous light. No longer the handsome college quarterback, he growled, a low, deadly, terrifying sound.
“Mab, stop.” If she made him any angrier, he’d get reckless—a sure way to get hurt. “I don’t need protecting. I can take care of myself.”
And I could.
Third, Victory falls.
Except maybe not this time.
STEPPING INTO THE MINE WAS LIKE DIVING INTO AN INKWELL. The darkness, immediate and absolute, swallowed up whatever daylight lingered outside. We turned on our headlamps; spots of light jittered across the stone walls like nervous ghosts.
The tunnel had a damp, mineral, musty smell. Here, it was wide enough for two people to walk beside each other, but the curved ceiling was low. I couldn’t stand up straight, and Kane, walking ahead of me, had to bend at the waist. Huge, half-rotted wooden beams braced the walls and ceiling, some buckling under the weight of the hill. I hoped they’d hold long enough for us to get out.
Iron rails were set into the tunnel’s floor, tracks for wagons that had long ago carried loads of slate. The rusty tracks jutted up from the floor here and there. Old junk never hauled from the mine—broken machinery, rusted tools—littered the path. But the real hazard was loose rock. We were constantly stumbling over the chunks of slate that littered the floor, and in places we had to scramble over heaps of fallen rock.
We wriggled over a large pile—there was a gap of about two feet between the shifting stones and the tunnel’s ceiling—and emerged into a vast cavern. Here, the ceiling stretched up maybe twenty feet; it was hard to judge in the narrow light from my headlamp. The damp smell was stronger. Water trickled somewhere, and puddles shone on the floor.