"But—" Daemon pressed his lips together. "Get these on." After helping Saetan into the trousers, he knelt again to deal with the socks and boots. "It's almost midnight. We'll be cutting it close since we've got to cover a bit of ground in order to reach the nearest strand of the Winds. But in a few more hours, we'll be at the Keep. We'll be home."
The desperate eagerness in Daemon's eyes tore the veil off the vision.
Two webs. One moldy, tainted. The other beautiful, full of shining beads of power.
She had found a way to separate those who lived by the ways of the Blood from those who had been perverted by Hekatah and Dorothea.
But the third web.
She was a Queen, and a Queen wouldn't ask for what she herself wouldn't give. And perhaps it was also the only selfish thing she'd ever done. By sacrificing herself, she wouldn't have to carry the burden of all the lives she was about to destroy. But...
He doesn't know. You didn't tell him. He came here expecting you to be waiting for him when he got back. Oh, witch-child.
Which is why she had asked him to take care of Daemon, why she had known he would need to.
Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe there was still a way to stop it, to stop her.
"Let's go," he said abruptly.
Daemon put a sight shield over both of them, and they slipped away from the camp.
By the time they reached the place where they could catch the Winds, a cold, sharp wind had begun to blow.
Saetan stopped, drew a breath through his mouth, tasted the air.
"It's just the wind," Daemon said.
"No," Saetan replied grimly, "it's not. Let's go."
Two hours later, Hekatah burst into Dorothea's cabin, waving a stubby clay cylinder. "We've been tricked. They're all gone. That thing in the prison hut isn't Lucivar, it's some kind of illusion. And Saetan ..." She hurled the cylinder across the room. "That bastard Sadi lied to us."
Lying on the floor where she'd been all day, Dorothea stared at Hekatah. As her bowels released more bloody flux, she started to laugh.
A storm had been gathering all night—thunder, lightning, wind. Now, as dawn approached, the wind had turned fierce, sounding almost as if it had a voice. "Come," Tersa said, helping Karla over to a couch. "You must lie down now. Morghann, come over here and lie on the floor."
"What's going on?" Khardeen asked as Morghann obediently lay down on the floor near the couch. He retrieved a pillow and slipped it under his wife's head.
"It would be better for all of you to sit on the floor. Even the Keep will feel this storm."
The First Circle glanced at each other uneasily and obeyed.
"What is it?" Karla asked when Tersa placed an arm protectively over her and rested the other hand on Morghann's shoulder.
"The day has come for the debts to be called in and for the Blood to answer for what they've become."
"I don't understand," Karla said. "What does the storm mean?"
Lightning flashed. The wind howled.
Tersa closed her eyes—and smiled. "She is coming."
He'd cut it too close. He hadn't expected the ride on the Winds to be that rough or that Saetan's physical endurance would give out so fast—or his own. They'd had to drop from the Red Wind to the Sapphire and finally, on the last part of the journey, down to the Green.
They couldn't land at the Keep itself. Some kind of shields had come down all around the place. So he'd homed in on Lucivar's Ebon-gray Jewel—and the one small place in the shields that Lucivar was using his Jewels to keep open—and dropped them from the Winds as close as he could. It hadn't been close enough, not for two exhausted men trying to scramble up a steep mountain path.
Now, with the gate in sight and Lucivar's mental urging to hurry, Daemon half carried Saetan up the slope, fighting a fierce, howling wind for every step.
Almost there. Almost. Almost.
The sky was getting lighter. The sun would lift above the horizon at any moment.
Hurry. Hurry.
"Saetan! SAE-TANNNN!"
Daemon looked behind them. Hekatah was scrambling up the slope. The bitch must have ridden the Red Wind all the way in order to get there right behind them.
Not wasting his breath to swear, he picked up the pace as best as could, dragging Saetan with him.
"Sadi!" Hekatah screamed. "You lying bastard!"
"MOVE!" Lucivar shouted. He was using Craft to hold the gate open, straining physically and mentally to keep it from closing and locking them out.
Closer. Almost there. Almost.
Daemon grabbed the bars of the gate, used the strength in his Black Jewel to hold it open. "Get him inside," he said, shoving Saetan at Lucivar. Then he turned and waited.
Hekatah came up the slope, stopped a few feet away. "You lying bastard."
Daemon smiled. "I didn't lie, darling. I told you you were going to get everything you deserved." He let go of the gate. It slammed shut, and the last shield came down over it.
As he turned and ran across the open courtyard, he heard Hekatah screaming. And he heard a wild howling, a sound full of joy and pain, rage and celebration.
He crossed the threshold into the safety of the Keep a moment before Jaenelle unleashed the maelstrom.
*You musst wake,* said a deep, sibilant voice. *You musst wake.*
Daemon opened his eyes. It took him a moment to understand why everything looked a little... strange... and readjust. It took him another moment to confirm that he was still distantly linked to his body—and that his body was lying on the cold stone floor of the Keep where he and Lucivar and Saetan had fallen when Jaenelle unleashed her full strength.
*You are the triangle who helped sshape the web of dreamss. Now you musst hold the dream. There iss not much time.*
Groaning, he sat up and looked around. And was instantly wide-awake.
Mother Night, where are we?
He reached over Saetan's prone body and shook Lucivar.
*Hell's fire, Bastard,* Lucivar said. He raised his head. *Shit.*
Both of them reached for Saetan, shook him awake.
*Father, wake up. We're in trouble,* Daemon said.
*Now what?* Saetan growled. He raised himself up on his elbows. His eyes widened. *Mother Night.*
*And may the Darkness be merciful,* Lucivar added. *Where are we?*
*Somewhere in the abyss. I think.*
Climbing carefully to their feet, they looked around.
They were standing on the edge of a deep, wide chasm. Stretching across the chasm was an Opal web. Below them were webs the colors of the darker Jewels. Above them were webs the colors of the lighter Jewels.
*What are we doing here?* Lucivar asked.
*We're the triangle who helped shape the dream,* Daemon said. *We're supposed to hold the dream.*
*Don't go cryptic on me, Bastard,* Lucivar growled.
Daemon snarled at him.
Saetan raised his hand. They both fell silent.
*Who told you that?* Saetan asked.
*A sibilant voice.* Daemon paused. *It sounded like Draca, but it was male.*
Saetan nodded. *Lorn.* He looked around again.
Far, far, far above them, lightning flashed.
*Why did Jaenelle ask you to come to Hayll, Daemon?* Saetan asked.
*She said that the triangle had to remain together in order to survive. That the mirror had the strength to keep the other two safe.*
*She saw that in a tangled web?*
*No. The Weaver of Dreams told her.*
Lucivar began to swear.
Saetan's look was sharp, penetrating, thoughtful.
The lightning flashed a little closer.
*Father, brother, lover,* Saetan said softly.