Araña suppressed a shudder as the image of the demon rose in her mind, sending the spider scurrying to the sole of her foot. The prospect of facing Abijah again made her legs threaten to give out. An icy fist squeezed her chest as she remembered fingers ending in curling, wicked claws, leathery black wings against an evening sky, and the coppery smell of human blood on his skin.
Tir’s arms tightened around her waist. From what seemed like a long distance away, she heard her own voice say, “We’d have to have access to the book belonging to Cortez before going after the urn.”
At some subtle signal, the small man closed the museum catalog and retreated from sight. Thane’s arctic-cold eyes bored into hers. “I have no problem allowing for a couple hours’ grace with respect to the book, and wording the agreement accordingly, as long as you agree to complete the task within three days’ time, the beginning of which is marked at tonight’s sunset.”
The merciless smile reappeared. “Be very clear. Your task isn’t finished until the urn is willingly destroyed by human hands. They can be your hands, or another’s, it doesn’t matter. But if I were in your position, I wouldn’t risk failure by delaying to see it done. If you need a few moments to discuss your decision with your companion, by all means, take them.”
Araña didn’t need a moment. She saw no real choice. If Thane left without an agreement and she broke into the safe, the vampire families would unite to mete out their punishment, and she didn’t doubt their reach extended into the ghostlands where Erik and Matthew were. They wouldn’t stop hunting her until they’d administered their justice—a justice that would probably see Tir in chains again.
If she agreed, and because of the translations, Tir’s power and memory were restored, then—
“I will protect you,” Tir said, stroking her cheek, directing the next at Thane. “Your enemies are mine.”
Thierry chose that moment to mediate on her behalf as he’d agreed to. “Thane has indicated he’s in possession of certain details, which I assume relate to the maze, and more particularly Anton Barlowe’s security. Since it’s in Draven’s best interest you succeed, Araña, it would be appropriate for Thane to share what he knows so you can more properly assess the proposed job before giving him your answer.”
Thane’s laugh held genuine amusement. “So she was clever enough to get you working on her side—it bodes well for her chances of surviving if she agrees to a contract with Draven.”
He snapped his fingers again. The small man reappeared and placed paper, pen, and a wooden box on the table in front of Thane.
Thane took up the pen and drew what Araña had already seen for herself once—a security gate opening into a fenced driveway and leading to the building where Jurgen and Cabot had sold her to Farold for the maze.
“This building serves as office and prison,” Thane said. “It also contains living quarters for those who assist Anton as well as those who are required by law to be on the premises at certain times.”
With quick strokes he sectioned off a portion of the building to the right of the counter where she’d been forced to stand as money was counted out and her picture taken. “This is Farold’s apartment. The front office area extends into it.”
He drew a larger square, then two curved lines creating a path between the two buildings, though Araña remembered seeing only a wall when she was taken through the front door at gunpoint.
“A fully enclosed walkway leads from the office in Farold’s living quarters to Anton’s house. There’s a door on either end, both alarmed, both unlocked using a keypad.”
Thane retracted the ink tip with a click and traced the route from the main office space, through the portion of it in Farold’s apartment, through the tunnel and into Anton’s house as he said, “This is the best chance anyone has of getting into the house and upstairs to the study, where the urn is kept.
“There are no windows facing the red zone outside Anton’s house. What windows there are all face the maze. The bottom floors are barred and the entire yard fenced to prevent hunters or runners from straying or attempting to kill him. Not that many would dare.
“The demon patrols the maze as well as all the buildings on the grounds, and as you have cause to know, he can be both corporal and incorporeal.”
Araña stiffened at his allusion to her encounter with Abijah. Thane’s eyes became a gray swirl of amused condescension. “Surely you don’t imagine Draven must supplement his income by collecting bounties on those who’ve escaped the maze. The fact you managed once and made a big enough impression on Barlowe that he wants you back is enough to qualify you for this job, even without Thierry’s recommendation, though I’ll admit to being surprised when I entered and saw you here.”
Matthew and Erik’s training kept Araña from missing the bigger picture. There was no way Thane had gathered all this information in the short time between Thierry’s call and his arrival at the shop. “How come Draven hasn’t gone after the urn before now?”
“Who says he hasn’t?” Thane countered.
“Has he?”
Thane considered his answer for a long moment, then said, “No. The timing has not been right, until now.” His eyes became the cool of steel gray. “Do we have an agreement, or do you need a moment to decide?”
A remembered conversation from her time at the maze slid into Araña’s mind, her subconscious already planning how she would accomplish this seemingly impossible task.
We’ll allow her two knives in the maze and give Abijah permission to play with her all night if the convicts don’t kill her first.
Why not add a caveat that Abijah can’t intentionally kill her unless she’s escaping the maze? If she survives his attention, that’ll make her next run a profitable one.
Done. Abijah has his instructions.
“I agree to the terms,” she told Thane.
“Then I’ll prepare the contract.”
Araña closed her eyes and soaked in Tir’s warmth as she listened to the sound of a pen scratching over paper. Her stomach churned with thoughts of facing Abijah again.
Taking comfort in Tir was a show of weakness, one that would have gained her a severe frown from Matthew, but she didn’t force herself away from the haven of Tir’s arms until Thane’s sardonic voice said, “If you’re ready…”
The document was short and simple, exact, and created in duplicate. It covered not only her agreement for services to be rendered for Draven, but Virgilio Cortez’s restrictions with respect to the book.
Araña read it before accepting the pen Thane offered and adding her signature beneath his on each page. When it was done, Thane said, “One last thing.”
His hand went to the wooden box. With the flick of his wrist it opened to reveal a syringe.
“Roll up your sleeve and hold out your arm,” he said, lifting the syringe from its bed of satin.
Araña’s heart pounded in her ears like a violent surf. When she hesitated, Thane motioned toward the signed papers. “They’re not official until I press the Tassone seal to them. That requires blood.”
A glance at Thierry, who’d returned to his work at a nearby table, gained her a solemn nod. She rolled up her sleeve and held out her arm.
Elegant fingers clamped down, forcing a vein into prominence, the material of her shirt keeping Thane safe from the spider.