Something scraped over the floorboards of the ceiling above us.

“What’s that?” Thomas asked.

“A giant preying mantis demon, dragging itself over the floor.”

Thomas blinked at me.

“That’s just a guess,” I said.

Hendricks growled, “How is she?”

“Not good,” I said. “This is a bad spot to be in. No defenses here, not even a threshold to work with. We need to bail.”

“Shouldn’t move her,” Hendricks said. “It could kill her.”

“Not moving her will kill her,” I countered. “Us too.”

Hendricks stared at me, but he didn’t argue.

Thomas was already reaching into his pocket. He was tense, his eyes flicking restlessly, maybe in an attempt to track things that he could hear moving around outside. He dug out his key ring and held it with his teeth. Then he took his saber in one hand, that monster Desert Eagle in the other, and started humming “Froggy Went A-Courting” under his breath.

Gard had slowly grown limp, and her head lolled bonelessly. I was having trouble keeping her steady. “Hendricks,” I said, nodding at Gard.

Without a word he set the shotgun aside and took the woman from me. I saw his eyes as he did, touched with worry and fear—and not for himself. He took her very gently, something I would never have imagined him doing, and growled, “How do I know you won’t leave us behind? Let them rip us apart while you run?”

“You don’t,” I said curtly, picking up my staff. “Stay if you want. These things will kill you both; I guarantee it. Or you take a chance with us. Your call.”

Hendricks glared at me for a moment, but when he glanced down at the unconscious woman in his arms, the rocky scowl faded. He nodded once.

“Harry?” Thomas asked. “How do you want to do this?”

“We head straight for your oil tanker,” I said. “Shortest route between two points and all.”

“They’ll have the door covered,” Thomas said.

“I hope so.”

“Okay,” he said, rolling his eyes. “As long as there’s a plan.”

Footsteps crossed the floor above us, and paused at the top of the stairs.

Thomas’s gun swiveled toward the stairs. I didn’t turn. I covered the doorway.

A voice like out-of-tune violin strings stroked by a rotting cobra hide drifted down the stairs. “Wizard.”

“I hear you,” I said.

“This situation might be resolved without further conflict. Are you willing to parley?”

“Why not,” I answered. I didn’t turn away from the door.

“Have I your word of safe passage?”

“You do.”

“Then you have mine,” the voice answered.

“Whatever,” I said. I lowered my voice to an almost subvocal whisper I was sure only Thomas could hear. “Watch them. They’ll try something the second they get a chance.”

“Why give them the opportunity?” Thomas murmured.

“Because we might find out something important by talking. It’s harder to question corpses. Switch with me.”

We traded places, and I kept my staff pointed at the stairs as the mantis-thing came down them. It crouched on the topmost step it could occupy while still maintaining visual contact with the entry hall. It looked none the worse for wear for being blown to hamburger by Gard’s rifle.