Quen pushed out, and I ducked as the sparkles of his thrown energy lit the dark. I could feel the line flowing through me, running into him. I was adding to Quen’s defense, but I might as well have been a cat with the help I was being.

Etude roared, his hands grasping as he lunged at Ku’Sox. “No!” I cried out, but Ku’Sox shouted a satisfied-sounding word, and Etude was flung back, flipping head over tail, headed for . . . us.

“Rachel!” Quen cried, jerking me out of the way as Etude crashed into the retaining wall. Rocks and dirt sifted down over him. I shook off Quen’s hand and ran to him, brushing the dirt from his huge, pushed-in face. The gargoyle was breathing, but out cold.

“Quen?” I stammered, looking up at him. His lips were pressed together hard, but his anger wasn’t at me as he helped me up. I didn’t think it was directed at Ku’Sox, either, who was advancing slowly. We were up shit creek, and I didn’t even see the “if” that got us there. The rings were not working well. Quen was way outclassed.

“You’re not holding the imbalance,” Ku’Sox said, curious now. It was the only thing keeping him from hammering us into the ground. “Who is? Is it Newt?”

I am wearing a slave ring . . . echoed in my head, and I looked at my hand in horror. What have I done to myself?

“No, not Newt,” Ku’Sox mocked, misunderstanding the look of terror I knew I was now wearing. “You’re all alone at last, Rachel. It took me longer than I thought to get you isolated. Everyone likes you.”

I am wearing a slave ring!

Ku’Sox threw something at us, and Quen knocked it away. I hid behind him, unable to think, to comprehend. I had to get this thing off!

“She’s not alone,” Quen said, and Ku’Sox laughed.

“You?” Ku’Sox stopped eight feet back, not trusting my fear, I think. “You don’t count,” he said lightly, looking at his nails. “They’re letting us fight it out, even if they do like her best. Isn’t that nice? They want the strongest parent possible for the next generation.” He smoothed his clothes in satisfaction. “That would be me.”

Letting us fight it out? Yeah, that sounded about right. We were making enough noise in the ley lines to pique the interest of the most sedentary demon, and the chicken squirts hadn’t shown up yet. That didn’t bother me as much as the fact that I couldn’t get the ring off my pinkie. Scared, I leaned to Quen’s ear. “I want the ring off.”