Five bodies appeared in the hallway. Saetan used Craft to probe the bodies. He felt equally chilled by and approving of what Jaenelle had done. From neck to toes, the bones of the Eyrien males had been crushed into small pebbles, making the bodies look like oddly shaped sacks. The muscles and internal organs had been ripped apart, as if claws had slipped beneath the skin, leaving it untouched while they tore through everything else in long, leisurely strokes. Which, he imagined, is exactly what she’d done. And for the few seconds it took her to do it, the pain would have been exquisite . . .

He looked at the Eyrien woman.

... but not enough to pay the debt.

“This is what you saw in the tangled web last night?” he asked too softly.

“I saw emptiness where something bright and joyful should have been. I saw happiness wither like a plant that couldn’t find the right soil to take root in. And I saw the terrace where I was standing at dawn, but it was empty—a warning that my presence, or absence, would make the difference in what would come.”

“I see.” He looked at the bodies again. “Now I understand what kind of expertise you need from me.”

Jaenelle nodded. “Find out why this happened, High Lord . . . and settle the debt.”

“It will be a pleasure, Lady.”

He stepped back, watched her hurry into the room that held the Dark Altar and the Gate that would take her and the woman to Kaeleer.

He waited a few minutes, studying the bodies that flopped in unnatural positions. Then he raised his right hand. His Black-Jeweled ring flashed with the reservoir of power it held. The bodies rose from the floor and floated toward him. Turning, he walked back to the Dark Altar, lit the four black candles in the candelabra in the proper sequence, and walked through the misty Gate, the bodies floating behind him.

When he walked out of the Gate, he felt the difference between this Realm and the two Realms that belonged to the living. Hell was the land of the demon-dead Blood who still had too much power even after the body’s death to return to the Darkness. A cold, ever-twilight Realm. He’d begun ruling here while he still walked among the living. He’d been ruling the Dark Realm ever since.

Turning to look at the bodies floating behind him, he smiled a cold, cruel smile. He accepted that executions were sometimes necessary, and he performed them with exacting skill when duty required it of him. He’d never developed a taste for them, but he suspected finishing what Jaenelle had begun was truly going to be a pleasure.