“Kris, I never—”

“I know. Even then, I think I saw that for what it was—self-pitying bullshit. But it made my cowardice easier to justify. Then I came here, and found you, and I knew I was wrong.” He smiled. “Even as you were telling me to go to hell, and trying to send me there with an energy bolt, I knew I’d been wrong. So I vowed I’d get you back, and when I did, I’d make damn sure nothing got in the way again, not your obsession with protecting Savannah, not ghost-world bounty-hunter duty, not even impossibly good-looking angel mentors.”

“But you’re taller.”

He grinned. “See? You did notice.”

I laughed. When I finished, he touched my chin, turning my face to his.

“The point is that I’m not leaving, and no one can make me. No matter what happens, I’ll fight. If you get stuck in there, absolutely stuck, you don’t quit on me, either—you fight, even if it means you need that damned sword to do it.”

I hesitated, then nodded. “I will.”

When I was ready, Trsiel took me away, to escort me into Dachev’s hell. As we walked through the complex, he gave me some tips about Dachev himself, based on his own encounters with him. I drilled him on that, getting everything he knew about Dachev, from concrete facts to behavioral interpretations to general impressions. Then I declared myself ready.

“He’s right through that door,” Trsiel said.

“Door?” I followed his finger to see a narrow door behind me. “He’s through there?”

“His hell is, at least. You’ll have to find Dachev himself. I don’t know what’s in…” He shook his head. “This won’t work. You need more details. Let me try tracking down Katsuo again. He’s been there—”

“Don’t,” I said. “If I start stalling, I won’t stop. If Dachev’s in there, I’ll find him.”

Trsiel nodded. “But be careful. Remember what I said—”

“I know.”

“Don’t forget, the…men down there, they haven’t seen a woman—”

“I know.”

“They can hurt you, Eve. Really hurt you. You have to be—”

“I know.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. “I know, Trsiel.”

He hesitated, as if there was so much more he wanted to say, a hundred more warnings he wanted to impart, but instead he returned the squeeze and, with his free hand, pulled a vial from his pocket.

“Ah, the hellsbane potion,” I said. “Don’t want to forget that.”