"All right, little Brother," Karla said. Before she could use her thumbnail to prick a finger, Gabrielle touched her shoulder.
"I think..." Gabrielle hesitated, took a deep breath. "I think this should be done as ritual."
So that it would be as powerful as they could make it. "Yes, you're right." Karla set the clear bubble back into the bowl.
"I'll get what we need," Gabrielle said.
"I'll go with you," Morghann said.
As Gabrielle and Morghann walked past the males, Chaosti and Khary reached out, each one giving his wife a gentle touch of apology before stepping aside.
With a weary sigh, Ladvarian moved out of the way and lay down.
Tersa stood up.
"Tersa?" Karla said. "Aren't you going to give the gift?"
Those clear-sighted eyes looked into her. Then Tersa smiled, said, "I already have," and left the room.
That was enough to tell Karla who had shown the kindred how to create those brilliant little pieces of Craft.
Watching the males shift places and take up their usual protective stance, Karla's eyes filled with tears, and she wished, futilely, that Morton could have been standing among them.
We'll be all right, she thought when she saw Aaron wrap his arms around Kalush. The harsh words will be forgiven, and we'll be all right.
But would Jaenelle?
"It's your turn, little bitch," Daemon said as he unfastened the chains from the post.
Surreal stared at him. It was after midnight—was, in fact, almost twenty-four hours since he had killed Marian and Daemonar. The day had been quiet enough. Sadi had prowled around the camp, making everyone nervous, and Dorothea and Hekatah had played least-in-sight.
"What are you going to do with the bitch?" Dorothea said, approaching the posts.
Until now.
Daemon looked at Dorothea and smiled. "Well, darling, I'm going to use her to give you what you've always wanted."
"Meaning what?" Dorothea asked uneasily.
"Meaning," Daemon purred, "that I'm going to break your slut of a granddaughter. And then I'm going to mount her until she's seeded with my child. She's ripe for it. It'll catch. And I'll make sure she has all the incentive she needs not to try to abort it. Your bloodline and me, Dorothea. Exactly what you've wanted from me. And all you'll have to overlook is the fact that the result might have pointed ears."
Laughing, he dragged Surreal into the same hut that had held Marian and Daemonar.
She waited until he had turned to close the door before she called in her stiletto and launched herself at him. He spun around, raised an arm to block the knife. She twisted, bringing the knife in under his arm, intending to drive it between his ribs up to the hilt. Instead, the knife hit a shield, slid right past him, and went into the door.
Before she could yank the knife out of the wood, Daemon grabbed her, shoved her back to the center of the small room. Screaming, she launched herself at him again. He caught her hands and roughly pushed her back until her knees hit the edge of the narrow bed. She went down with him on top of her.
He rolled off immediately, sprang to his feet. "That's enough."
She leaped off the bed and hurled every curse she knew at the top of her lungs before she lunged at him again.
He pushed her away and swore viciously. "Damn it, Surreal, that's enough."
"If you think I'm going to spread my legs for you, you'd better think again, Sadist."
"Shut up, Surreal," Daemon said quietly but intensely.
She felt the shields go up around the hut. Not just a Black protective shield but a Black aural shield as well. Which meant no one could hear what was happening inside.
He took a deep breath, raked his fingers through his hair. "Well," he said dryly, "that little performance ought to convince the bitches that something is happening in here."
She had been gathering herself to spring at him again, intending to go for his balls this time. But that tone and those words sounded so... Daemon... that she paused. And remembered Karla's warning about a friend who becomes an enemy in order to remain a friend.
He eyed her, then approached warily. "Let's see your wrists."
She held out her hands, watching him—and saw the fury in his eyes when he snapped off the manacles and looked at the raw skin underneath.
Surreal huffed. "Damn it, Sadi, what kind of game are you playing?"
"A vicious one," he replied, calling in a leather box. He looked through it, pulled out a jar, and handed it to her. "Put that on your wrists."
She opened the jar, sniffed. A Healer's ointment. While she applied it to her wrists, he called in another box. There were several balls of clay sitting in nests of paper. Two of the nests were empty.
"Do you still have the food pack you brought?"
"Yes. I haven't had a chance to eat any of it," she added tartly.
"Then eat something now," he said, still looking through the box. "I'd give you some from mine, but I gave most of it to Marian."
A chill went down Surreal's spine. There was a funny buzzing in her head. "To Marian?"
"Do you remember the shack we stopped at when we got to Hayll?"
"Yes." Of course she remembered it. It was a couple of miles away from the camp. That was where Daemon had changed into the Sadist. One minute he had been carefully explaining about the sentries and the perimeter stakes that would alert the guards, and the next thing she knew, she was tied up and he was purring threats about how she should have stayed under Falonar and stayed out of his way. He had scared her, badly. And the fact that he had made her furious now. "You could have told me, you son of a bitch."
He looked up. "Would you have been as convincing?"
She bristled, insulted. "You're damn right I would have been."
"Well, we're going to have a chance to find out. You said you wanted to help, Surreal. That you were willing to be a diversion."
She had said that, but she'd thought she would have known when she was being a diversion. "So?"
"So now you will be." He approached her, held up a small gold hoop. "Listen carefully. This will produce the illusion that you're broken." He slipped the hoop through one of the links of the necklace that held her Gray Jewel. "No one will be able to detect that you're still wearing the Gray unless you use it. If you do need to use it, then don't hesitate. I'll figure out some way to deal with things here."
"The High Lord will know I'm not broken."
Daemon shook his head as he turned back to search for something else in the box. "You'd have to wear Jewels darker than the Black to be able to detect that spell."
Darker than the Black? Sadi couldn't make a spell like that. Which meant...
Mother Night.
"This"—Daemon held up a tiny crystal vial before attaching it to the necklace—"will convince anyone who thinks to check that you're not only fertile but you're now pregnant. A Healer would be able to tell within twenty-four hours," he added, answering her unspoken question.
Lifting the necklace, Surreal studied the vial. "You asked Jaenelle to create an illusion that I was pregnant with your child?"
She saw his face tighten.
Yes, he had asked Jaenelle. And it had hurt him to ask.
Looking to change the subject, she pointed to the balls of clay. "What are those?"
"The raw spells to create shadows."
Shadows. Illusions that could be made to fool someone into believing the person in front of them was real.
"Marian and Daemonar," she said weakly, staring at the two empty nests of paper.
"Yes," he replied sharply.
She hissed at him. "You didn't trust me, a whore, to put on a good show, but you figured Lucivar would be convin—" Her voice trailed away. "He doesn't know, does he?"