The Master folded his arms over his chest and gave an ambivalent little shrug. “They are the embers of eternal darkness. They radiate neither light nor heat, but if your hand were to so much as graze the flames, you would immediately die, your soul forfeited to damnation.”

Jonathan jerked his hand away and bolted backward, knocking into the nearest candelabra. He yelped in pain as candle wax dripped onto the top of his head. Anya pulled him up, placing him next to Andrew, where she could keep an eye on both of them.

“There is no room in Demondale as safe as this one,” Darla said. “The pulpit door opens only for the undead, and there’s an alarm spell on the blood farm that would let us know if anyone was trying to enter our bedroom unescorted. And on the rare occasion that the Master and I weren’t here to keep watch over the Black Flame flag, our bedroom is always guarded by our children sleeping in the walls.”

“So you see, everything is perfectly safe. You may return to the Mayor and tell him you have been assured,” said the Master. “Here endeth the lesson.”

“I think the lesson is just starting.” Standing in the doorway was a teenage girl, holding a crossbow in one hand and a wizard staff in the other. The light of the Marnoxon gem cast emerald shadows on her blond hair. The slayer smiled. “You left the door upstairs open.”

Seven

PANIC SWEAT PRICKLED down Jonathan’s back. The slayer was less than twenty feet away from the stone sarcophagus. If Ripper and Rayne were right, then all she had to do was throw the Marnoxon gem into the black flames and this reality would cease to be.

Someone had to stop her.

Someone had to get the Gandalf staff.

Shying backward as the vampires all started growling at the intruder, Jonathan whispered to Andrew, “Do you see an electrical outlet anywhere? If we hit her with the shrink ray, we could definitely get the gem and get out of here.”

“If they had electricity down here, why would there be all these candles?” Andrew asked.

“I thought they were just for ambience,” Jonathan said. Casting around, he noticed that all the candelabras seemed to be more practical than romantic. The walls were too full of grave holes to have any room for electrical wiring. “What about in the blood farm? Those draining tubes have to be powered by something.”

“Probably gravity,” Anya said, inviting herself into the conversation. “They just have to pull the blood out. How hard can that be?”

“Even if you could find a power source, I don’t think we should use the shrink ray on the slayer. What if you blow up the staff?” Andrew asked, panic making his voice squeak.

“Then I wouldn’t be able to get my powers back,” Anya said.

“And we won’t be able to save Warren!” Andrew added.