Freezing, she rubbed her arms, trying to catch her breath. Her white shirt now clung to her skin, her blue bra showing through the sodden fabric. Great.

She stood on a narrow lane, constructed entirely of stone. Pale moonflowers and gardenias hung from vines growing on the buildings that surrounded her, as though nature were trying to reclaim its domain.

But something drew her gaze upward: a steep-peaked castle stood on a high rocky hill, bathed in silvery moonlight. The towering gothic palace loomed over the land. What the hell…?

She couldn’t breathe. She hadn’t taken a portal to Caine’s house, or even his dungeon. She’d transported herself to another world. Everyone had heard the legends, but she’d never believed them to be true.

Maremount, Mount Acidale, Lilinor… What if these mythical places were real? And what if she’d just leapt into one of the demon realms? If that were the case, she needed to get the hell out of here. Fast. She could fight one or two demons—in theory. But she wasn’t ready to fight a whole demon realm.

Her imagination roamed free, and her mind spun with all the horrifying things she could remember about demons. Some killed fast, and others savored their victims’ agony, plucking apart the sinews and muscle like artists of gore.

At this point, only two things were certain: she was a complete idiot for plunging through the portal, and she should have stayed with the grim reaper.

She hugged herself, overcome by a sudden urge to plunge back into the cemetery. But when she glanced back into the fountain, all the water had disappeared.

Her world tilted; it felt like all the blood drained from her head. What the hell had she just done? Sure, she was probably safe from the Brotherhood here, but she wasn’t safe from anything else. In fact, she’d just thrown herself right into the monster’s lair. She really needed to find Caine now, assuming he still wanted to keep her alive.

She swallowed hard and took a tentative step, her teeth chattering. If she were lucky, she’d thrown herself into the mage’s realm. Which one is that? Maremount, maybe. At least, that’s what Josiah had once told her.

As she stepped over the damp cobblestones, cold fear washed over her skin. There was no sign of Caine in the city’s dark shadows, and she felt none of his dark magic caressing her skin. She reached for the flamethrower at her belt.

She needed to master her fear and plan strategically, practically. It was what Josiah would tell her to do—at least, after he’d finished going apoplectic at her current situation. Gods, she wished he were here.

Think, Rosalind. Since Caine was a shadow mage, he was aligned with the night god. So were the vamps. Hadn’t Josiah said something about a vampire kingdom? Lilinor, perhaps? If that’s where she’d come, she would soon meet her parents’ fate.

Mentally, she tallied the weapons in her belt. If she had to face vamps, her gun would be useless. Silver bullets were fantastic against some monsters, but silver was the night god’s element. Contrary to popular belief, vampires and incubi actually liked silver. It made them stronger.