Curran whipped around. The vamp leaped. Curran’s right hand closed on the vamp’s throat. He spun, oblivious to the talons ripping at his jacket, and drove the undead’s head into the wall. The vamp’s skull bounced off the brick. Curran bared his teeth and smashed it into the wall again and again, his face savage.

The bones cracked. Undead blood splashed the bricks. Curran ran the bloodsucker into the brick one last time, and twisted its head off like he was wringing out the laundry. The vamp body fell one way, the head went the other.

“Show-off,” I whispered.

“Hold on. Almost through.”

He gripped the grate. The skin of his fingers turned gray—the silver burning him. Curran strained. His legs shook under the pressure. The last two bars bent, and he pushed part of the grate aside like a lid on a can. He dropped to his knees and reached for me. I slid out of my restraints. Someone must’ve turned my legs to lead, because they pulled me down like an anchor. I sank. The water rose over my neck and my mouth . . . He grabbed my arm, pulled me up through the grate, out into the air, and hugged me to him.

He smelled like Curran. He felt like him. I buried my face in the bend of his neck. His skin was so hot, it burned.

“Don’t die on me.” He kissed my face, pulling off his jacket. “Don’t die on me.”

I couldn’t stand. I just slumped there on top of the grate, holding on to him.

He wrapped me in his jacket, closed his arms around me, and jumped. Then we were in a narrow hallway. He carried me through it.

“I love you,” I told him.

“I love you, too.” His voice was raw. “Stay alive, Kate.”

“Ghastek . . .”

“They’ll get him. Don’t worry. Stay with me.”

“Where would I go?”

He squeezed me to him. “I’m going to kill that fucker.”

“Dibs,” I told him. “He broke my sword.”

“Fuck the sword. I almost lost you.” He kicked a door open and lowered me to a fire built on the concrete floor. “Andrea, clothes! Quickly.”

Curran ripped my shirt in half. My pants came off—someone was pulling off my sodden clothes. The heat of the fire swirled around me. Christopher swung into my view, his hair snow white, and held a thermos to my lips. “Drink, mistress.”

I sipped. Chicken broth. I drank again and he pulled it back. “Not so fast. You’ll get sick.”

“Hang on,” Andrea told me, and slipped socks on my feet. “Don’t ever pull this shit again, you hear me?”

“Sure,” I whispered.

“Here.” Robert handed Curran a shirt.

“What are all of you doing here?” I whispered, as Curran put it on me.