He turned his head, slowly. His eyes focused on her—too slowly.
Checking to make sure there weren't any guards around at the moment, she leaned toward him as much as she could. "Uncle Saetan, this isn't exactly the time to start taking mental side trips. We've got to think of a way to get out of here."
"I'm sorry you're here, Surreal," he said in a worn-out voice. "Truly, I am sorry."
Me, too."Lucivar's got the physical strength, and I can handle myself in a fight, but you've got the experience to come up with a plan that can use that strength to our best advantage."
He just looked at her. The smile that finally curved his lips was gently bitter. "Sweetheart... I've gotten very old in the past two days."
She could see that, and it scared her. Without him, she wasn't sure theycould get out of there.
Hearing a door open, she immediately straightened up and looked away from him.
"Hell's fire," Dorothea said irritably, "what's that smell?" She stepped between the posts that held Saetan and Surreal.
Surreal clenched her teeth. She wore a Gray Jewel; Dorothea wore a Red. It would be easy enough to slip under Dorothea's inner barriers and weave a death spell—something nasty so that, when it triggered, the screams and confusion might give them a chance to get away.
She began a careful descent so that no one would notice it, but before she reached the depth of her Gray Jewel, another door opened.
The vile smell intensified, making her gag.
Daemon Sadi strolled out of the prison hut, his hands in his trouser pockets. He kept moving until he reached the center of the lighted area. He didn't look at them. His glittering eyes were focused intently on Lucivar, who stared back at him.
No one dared move.
Finally, Daemon looked toward the prison hut and said pleasantly, "Marian, darling, come out and show your foolish husband the price for my years in the Twisted Kingdom."
Two naked...things... floated out of the hut into the light. An hour ago, they had been a woman and a small boy. Now...
Surreal began panting in an effort to keep her stomach down. Mother Night, Mother Night, Mother Night.
Marian's fingers and feet were gone. So was the long, lovely hair. Daemonar's eyes were gone, as well as his hands and feet. Their wings were so crisped, the slight movement of floating made pieces break off. And their skin . ,
Smiling that cold, cruel smile, the Sadist released his hold on Marian and Daemonar. The little boy hit the ground with athump and began screaming. Marian landed on the stumps of her feet and fell. When she landed, her skin split, and...
Not blood, Surreal realized as she stared with numb, sick fascination. Cooking juices oozed out from those splits in the skin.
The Sadist hadn't just burned them, he hadcooked them—and they were still alive. Not even demon-dead,alive.
"Lucivar," Marian whispered hoarsely as she tried to crawl toward her husband. "Lucivar."
Lucivar screamed, but the scream of pain changed to an Eyrien war cry. Chains snapped as he exploded away from the post, charging right at Daemon. When he had covered half the distance, a hard psychic blow knocked him off his feet, sent him rolling back toward the post. He surged to his feet, rushed at Daemon again—and was struck down again. And again. And again.
When he couldn't get to his feet, he crawled toward Daemon, his teeth bared, his eyes filled with hate.
Sadi reached down, grabbed Daemonar's arm, and twisted it off the way another man would twist off a drumstick.
Thatgot Lucivar to his feet. When he charged this time, he slammed into a Black shield and went to his knees.
Daemon just watched him and smiled.
He tried to break through the shield, tried to smash his way through it, claw his way through it, battered himself against it—and finally just braced himself against it, crying.
"Daemon," he pleaded. "Daemon... show a little mercy."
"You want mercy?" Daemon replied gently. With predatory speed, he stepped on Daemonar's head.
The skull smashed like an eggshell.
Daemon walked over to Marian, who was still whispering, still trying to crawl. Even over Lucivar's anguished howls, the rest of them could hear the bones snap when Daemon stepped on her neck.
Using Daemonar's arm as a pointer, Sadi gestured elegantly at the two bodies, all the while watching Lucivar and smiling. "They're both still strong enough to make the transition to demon-dead," he said pleasantly. "It's doubtful the brat is going to remember much of anything, but your wife's last thoughts of you... How kindly will she remember you, Prick, knowing you were the cause of this?"
"Finish it," Lucivar begged. "Let them go."
"Everything has a price, Prick. Pay the price, and I'll let them go."
"What do you want from me," Lucivar said in a broken voice. "Just tell me what you want from me."
Daemon's smile turned colder, meaner. "Prove you can be a good boy. Crawl back to the post."
Lucivar crawled.
Two of the guards who had been standing beyond the lighted area, watching, approached Lucivar and helped him to his feet while two others replaced the broken chains.
They were very gentle with him when they secured him to the post.
Lucivar looked at Daemon with grief-dulled eyes. "Satisfied?"
"Yes," Daemon said too softly. "I'm satisfied."
Surreal felt a flick of dark power, then another. She reached out to Marian, almost terrified that her psychic touch would get an answer. But there was nothing,no one, left.
That was when she finally realized she was crying,had been crying.
Dropping Daemonar's arm, Sadi used a handkerchief to meticulously wipe the grease from his hand. Then, walking over to Surreal, he used the same handkerchief to wipe the tears from her face.
She almost puked on him.
"Don't waste your tears onthem, little witch," Daemon said quietly."You're next."
She watched him walk away, disappear once more into the darkness.I may be next, you cold-hearted bastard, but I won't go down without a fight. I can't win against you, but I swear by all that I am that I won't go down without a fight.
Saetan closed his eyes, unable to bear the sight of the still figures lying a few feet away from him.
I knew he was dangerous, but I didn't know he hadthisin him. I helped him, encouraged him. Oh, witch-child, what kind of monster did I allow into your bed, into your heart?
As soon as they returned to Hekatah's cabin, Dorothea fell into the nearest chair. She had done some cruel, vicious things in her life, but this...
She shuddered.
Hekatah braced her hands on the table. "Do you still think he'll buckle if we threaten Lucivar?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"No," Dorothea replied in a voice just as shaky. "I don't know what he'll do anymore." For centuries, the Blood in Terreille had called him the Sadist. Now she finally understood why.
2 / Kaeleer
Karla watched Tersa build strange creations with brown wooden building blocks. She was grateful for the older woman's presence, and knew Gabrielle felt the same way.
Jaenelle had disappeared shortly after she had talked to them. They, in turn, had talked to the rest of the coven, only telling them that the boyos needed to be held back for a few more days. They hadn't told the others about Witch's intention of going to war with Terreille—alone. They had understood the unspoken command when Jaenelle had finally shown them the dream that lived beneath the human skin.
So the coven, unhappy but united, had rounded up the boyos before any of them could slip the leash. It hadn't been easy, and the males' hostility toward what they considered a betrayal had been vicious enough to make Karla wonder if any of the marriages in the First Circle would survive. Some of those marriagesmight have been destroyed right there and then if Tersa hadn't come along and scolded the boyos for their lack of courtesy. Since the males weren't willing to attackher, they had given in.
Almost twenty-four hours of enforced togetherness hadn't made things any easier, but it was the only way to ensure the males' continued presence. Even by the Keep's standards, the sitting room the coven had chosen as a place of confinement was a large room with several clusters of furniture and lots of pacing room—and it wasn't big enough. The coven mostly kept to the chairs and couches to avoid being snarled at by a pacing male. And when the boyos weren't pacing, they were huddled together, muttering.
"How many days are we going to have to do this?" Karla muttered to herself.
"As many as it takes," Tersa replied quietly. She studied her newest creation for a minute, then knocked it down.
The wooden blocks clattered on the long table in front of the couch, but no one jumped this time, having gotten used to the noise. No one even paid much attention to Tersa's odd creations. The boyos, in an attempt to prove theycould be courteous, had admired and inquired about the first few... structures... but when Tersa's replies became more and more confusing, they finally backed off and left her alone.
In fact, Karla would have bet they weren't paying attention to much of anything going on in the room—until Ladvarian came in and trotted over to her.
The Sceltie looked unbearably weary, and there was a deep sadness in his brown eyes—and just a bit of an accusation.
*Karla?* Ladvarian said.
"Little Brother," Karla replied.
Two bowls appeared on the small table next to Karla's chair. One was filled with...
Karla carefully picked one up, studied it.
... bubbles of water that had protective shields around them to form a kind of skin. The other bowl had one red bubble.
*I need a drop of blood from each of you,* Ladvarian said.
"Why?" Karla asked as she studied the bubble. It was a brilliant little piece of Craft.
*For Jaenelle.*
Hearing that, Chaosti jumped in. "If Jaenelle wants something from us right now, she can ask us herself."
"Chaosti,"Gabrielle hissed.
Chaosti snarled at her.
