There was a pool of blood between Jaenelle’s legs. Too much blood.

Surreal leaned over the bed. Her stomach rolled.

Jaenelle stared at the ceiling, her unblinking eyes never changing when Surreal passed her hand in front of them. Her body was a mass of bruises; a cut on her lip leaked blood.

Surreal glanced back at the Warlord and noticed scratches on his face and shoulders. So. She had fought for a while.

Surreal felt for a pulse and found one. Weak and growing weaker.

Something hit the locked door.

“Greer!” someone shouted. “Greer, what’s going on?”

“Damn!” The word exploded out with her breath as she quickly Gray-locked the door. Pulling Titian’s knife from Greer’s heart, Surreal hesitated for just a moment, then shook her head. She didn’t have the minute it would take. She cut the cords that bound Jaenelle’s ankles and wrists to the bed, wrapped the girl in the bloody sheet, lifted the bundle against her, and, Gray shielding herself and her precious burden, made the pass through the walls.

Once outside, Surreal ran. When they finally broke the Gray lock and found Greer, they would be pouring out of the doors in pursuit. And following the blood scent, they would be able to trace her.

There was only one place to go, and once there, she would need help.

Putting her heart into it, Surreal sent a summons along the Gray.

*Sadi!*

No answer.

*Sadi!*

4 / Hell

“No!”

Saetan’s roar thundered through the cavern, drowning out the sound of feet racing down the stairs.

“SaDiablo!” Andulvar yelled as he leaped into the cavern. “We heard a scream. What’s—”

Saetan pivoted, teeth bared, spearing Draca with eyes filled with cold rage. “And now?” he said too softly.

“We’ll ride the Winds,” Prothvar said, pulling out his knife.

“No time,” Mephis countered. “It’ll be too late.”

“Draca,” Geoffrey said.

Draca never blinked, never flinched from Saetan’s glazed stare.

“Saetan—” Andulvar began.

Draca closed her eyes.

A voice filled their minds, a rumble as if the Keep itself sighed.

A male voice.

*Sspear to sspear, High Lord. That iss the only way now. Her blood runss. If sshe diess now—*

“She’ll walk among the cildru dyathe.”

So much sorrow in that voice. *Dreamss made flessh do not become cildru dyathe, High Lord. Sshe will be losst to uss.*

“Who are you to say this to me?” Saetan snarled.

*Lorn.*

Saetan’s heart stopped for a beat.

*You have the courage, High Lord, to do what you musst do. The other male will be your insstrument.*

The sighing rumble faded.

The cavern was very still.

Turning carefully, Saetan once more faced the red-misted tether line.

And the Blood shall sing to the Blood.

Don’t think. Be an instrument.

Everything has a price.

Locked in his cold, still rage, Saetan slowly drew on the power in the web, the power in his Jewels, and the power in himself until he had formed a three-edged psychic spear. With his eyes and will fixed on the Jewel chip, he sent a single, thundering summons.