A perfect shaft shot high into the air, like the steeple of a church but with no church attached to it, the spire high above our heads. Feish lay against the stone base, lightly illuminated by a lantern on the ground, her yellow-green skin looking even more yellow than normal.

Next to her was a second figure, this one trussed up differently, and far more securely than her simple ropes. Bound in metal, he didn’t move, but there was no doubt in my mind it was Crash.

What the hell was this? I wasn’t expecting to have to rescue him.

One person watched them. One person?

Where was Eric?

Those two questions banged around inside my head, telling me they were important. Why only one person if Crash was so dangerous?

I pushed it away, getting myself ready to do something. Feish needed to be saved. And apparently Crash too.

I had no idea where Eammon or Tom were. But the knife-throwing thing that Officer Jonathan had taught me all those years ago would do just fine if I could get the guard to turn away from me and give me his back. I scooped up a couple of rocks in my left hand and threw them to the other side of the spire thing, away from me. There was a muted thud. The rock had hit something other than stone or the hard ground, but it didn’t matter—it had worked.

The guy watching Feish and Crash turned his back to me.

“You there!” he roared, pointing into the darkness, and then Eammon yelped as he was dragged out from his hiding place.

Whoops.

No way was I going to try and throw a knife when this guy had Eammon in hand.

What else did I have?

I swung my bag around the front of me, stood, and walked toward the spire as if I belonged here. “Excuse me, can you help me? They seem to have locked the gates and I can’t get out.”

The guy spun around to face me, still holding Eammon with his feet hanging high above the ground, his face slowly going purple.

I frowned. “You should put him down. He doesn’t look well.”

“Listen, Karen,” the guy drawled, dropping Eammon and walking toward me. “You need to leave before you see things you can’t unsee.”

Call me Karen, would he? I put my hands on my hips. “I want to speak to your manager. Immediately. Is this how you treat tourists?”

He looked over his shoulder at Eammon as if they were suddenly friends. “Tourists, am I right?”

He turned back to me as I swung a right hook I’d been just waiting to use. I caught him in the side of the head, right in the temple.

“Get him!” Eammon yelled.