“Can you walk, sir? We need to get moving.”

Nick nodded. He felt a bit light-headed but otherwise fine, so he guessed he hadn’t lost too much blood to the creature.

“Sorry,” Lackridge blurted out as Nick slid off the table and stood up. “I never . . . never thought that this would happen. I never believed Dorrance, thought only to humor him. . . . He said that she spoke to him in dreams, and if it was more awake, then . . . We hoped to be able to discover the secret of waking mental communication. . . . It was—”

“Mind control is what Dorrance thought he could get from it,” Ripton said, interrupting him. He tapped his coat pocket. “I’ve got your diary here. Mind control through people’s dreams. And you just went along with whatever Dorrance wanted, you stupid sod.”

“What’s actually happening?” asked Nick. “Has it killed anyone?”

Lackridge choked out something unintelligible.

“Anyone! It’s killed almost everyone down here, and by now it’s probably upstairs killing everyone there,” said Ripton. “Guns don’t work up close to it, bullets fired farther back don’t do a thing, and the electric barrier grilles just went phhht when it walked up! As soon as I figured it was trying to get out, I doubled around behind it. Now I reckon we follow its path outside and then run like the clappers while it’s busy—”

“We can’t do that,” said Nick. “What about the guests? And the servants—even if they do work for D Thirteen, they can’t be abandoned.”

“There’s nothing we can do,” said Ripton. He no longer appeared so calm. “I don’t know what that thing is, but I do know that it has already killed a dozen highly trained and fully armed D Thirteen operatives. Killed them and . . . and drunk their blood. Not . . . not something I ever want to see again. . . .”

“I know what it is,” said Nick. “Somewhat. It is a Free Magic creature from the Old Kingdom. A source of Free Magic itself, which is why guns and electricity don’t work near it. I would have thought that bullets coming in from farther away would at least hurt it, though. . . .”

“They bounced off. I saw the lead splashes on its hide. . . . Here’s a flashlight. You go in front, Professor. Get your key ready.”

“We have to try to save the people upstairs,” Nick said firmly as they nervously entered the corridor, flashlight beams probing the darkness in both directions. “Has it definitely already got out of here?”

“I don’t know! It was through the second guardroom. The library exit might slow it more. It’s basically a revolving reinforced concrete-and-steel slab, like a vault door. Supposed to be bombproof—”

“Is there another way up?”

“No,” said Ripton.

“Yes,” said Lackridge. He stopped and turned, the bronze key gleaming in his hand. Ripton stepped back, and his finger whipped from resting outside the trigger guard to curl directly around the trigger.