Saetan’s voice sounded tightly calm. *I can’t sense a link between her body and her Self. It’s either very faint or she’s severed it completely. If we don’t draw her back now, we’ll lose her.*

*You mean I’ll lose her,* Daemon snapped at him. *If her body dies, you’ll still have her, won’t you?*

He felt heart-tearing pain come through the link.

*No,* Saetan whispered. *I was told by one who would know that dreams made flesh don’t become cildru dyathe.*

Daemon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. *How deep is your well, Priest?*

*I don’t know.*

*Then let’s find out.* Daemon turned to Surreal. *Go out. Keep watch. Those sons of whoring bitches will be coming soon. Buy us some time, Surreal.”

Surreal glanced at the Altar. “I’ll keep them out until I hear from you.” She slipped through the wrought-iron gate and disappeared into the labyrinth of dark corridors.

“Go with her,” Daemon said to Cassandra. “This is private.”

Before she could protest, Saetan said, *Go, Lady.*

Daemon waited until he was sure she was gone. Then he stretched out on the Altar and took Jaenelle in his arms.

The power from Saetan flowed into him, wrapped around him.

*Keep the descent at a steady pace,* Saetan warned.

So easy to slip into that abandoned body, so easy to glide down through all that emptiness until he reached the depth of his own inner web. He held there, trying to probe farther down.

Far, far, far below him, a flash of lightning lit up a swirling black mist.

*Jaenelle!* Daemon shouted. *Jaenelle!*

No answer.

Spinning out the link to make it thinner and longer, Daemon eased past the depth of his inner web.

*Daemon!* Saetan’s worry vibrated through the link.

A little deeper. A little deeper.

He felt the pressure now, but kept spinning out the link.

Down down down.

Like diving too deep in water, the abyss pressed against him, pressed against his mind. That inner core of Self could go only so deep. Any deeper and the very power that made the Blood the Blood would try to pour into a vessel too small to hold it, crushing the spirit, shattering the mind.

Down down down. Gliding through the emptiness, spinning out the link between him and Saetan thinner and thinner.

*Daemon!* Saetan’s voice was a hoarse, distant thunder. *You’re too deep. Pull up, Daemon. Pull up!*

A tiny psychic feather rose out of the mist that was still far below him, brushed against him and withdrew, startled and puzzled.

*Jaenelle!* Daemon shouted. When he got no answer, he sent on a spear thread. *I felt her, Priest! I felt her!*

He also felt agony through the link and realized he was being pulled upward.

*No!* he yelled, fighting the upward pull. *NO!*

The link snapped.

No longer tied to the power Saetan was channeling, he became an empty vessel that the power in the abyss rushed to fill. Too much. Too fast. Too strong.