We were in a long hall that resembled the one that Pritkin had been in, except that it had a line of Romanesque arched windows looking over the stunning view. I could see pale, blue-gray sky, fir covered mountains, and craggy heights, but couldn’t really appreciate it considering that the door was already thudding like there was a giant on the other side. Or a heck of a lot of fey.

And I guessed Mircea didn’t like our odds against their arrows in an open corridor, because he pointed at the wall. “If you would be so good as to hand me a spear?”

I looked behind me to find that the side of the hall opposite the windows was decorated with numerous lethal looking weapons, arrayed in pretty formations. The nearest group contained a bunch of spears with thick wooden shafts. I started to jerk one off the wall, had my hand scream bloody murder at me, and swore.

And then jerked the arrow out of it, because I didn’t have a choice, and immediately went swimmy headed from the pain.

The arrow head had broken off at some point, but just removing the wooden shaft was horrible. Why had I done that? Why the hell had I done that?

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

Even worse, the wound did not immediately close up, as I’d half expected since I was currently channeling the power of a master vampire. It didn’t look like there were any bones broken, the head having sliced cleanly through the middle of two of them. But the pain was horrible and the red, gaping mouth looked like it was laughing at me—

“Cassie!”

I snapped out of it, belatedly remembering that we were still in battle. Get a grip, I told myself savagely, or you’re about to have a lot more wounds courtesy of a lot more fey. I grabbed the spear and tossed it to Mircea.

He caught it mid-air and used it to brace the door.

It did not appear to help much.

“The deal was that you take the spell off,” I reminded him shakily, refusing to get side tracked. “And once we’ve found this guy you want—”

“This fey I want,” he corrected, motioning for more spears.

“—then that’s it. You don’t do this again—”

“Exactly so.”

“But you’re doing it now!” I tossed him the rest of the thick shafts, one at a time, using my good hand as much as possible. “You never removed it!”

“I did, in fact.”

I looked at him.

“And then I had it reapplied,” he admitted.

“Why?”

“That’s why,” he said, right before the door, now braced by no fewer than six huge spears, nonetheless blew inward.