“It’s the sword borrowing your life force. As soon as you get some sleep to finish your recovery you’ll feel a lot better, I promise.” He gestured off into the apartment. “Before I leave you, I need to see the cloth from Isidore again so that I can work on some things tonight while you’re resting.”

Magda nodded and went back through the white, carved double doors into her bedroom. The bed looked inviting. She retrieved the silky cloth and hurried back out with it. Merritt was gazing around at the place in wonder. She often forgot what a beautiful retreat the apartment really was. She was eager to move, though, because it was going to be Lothain’s place, now.

“Do you want to take it with you?” she asked as she handed him the folded fabric.

Merritt unfolded the long cloth, holding it up to get a good look at the symbols. “No. With you in a deep sleep, I’d feel a lot better knowing that you have this over you, warding off any of the monsters Naja told us about.”

“So far as I know, all the murders have been down lower in the Keep. Do you really think that the dead would come all the way up here?”

Merritt stretched the cloth out, looking at it as he spoke. “Your life isn’t worth the risk. I’m the one who gave Isidore the basic keeper spells. I just need to check some minor details about the modifications she did to them—make sure I have it right in my memory. With something this critical, I don’t want to get it wrong.”

She put her hand over his, drawing his gaze. “Merritt, what are we going to do about all this? How are we going to go about putting a stop to it?”

Satisfied with his inspection, Merritt handed her back the cloth as he showed her a brave smile. She thought that it was a nice gesture of him to pretend for her sake.

“Tomorrow, Magda. Sleep, get the rest you need, and tomorrow we’ll worry about it. You’ll be able to think more clearly after you get the rest you need to finish healing. We have Quinn working with us now. He’ll be a big help, as will Naja.”

Magda smiled at the memory of the stunning sorceress.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman that beautiful.”

Merritt’s eyes searched hers. “She’s not nearly as beautiful as you, Magda,” he said in a quiet voice that surprised her with not only the words themselves, but the sincerity in his tone.

Merritt caught himself and looked away. “I’m sorry, Magda. I should never have said that. You are wife to Baraccus.”

She laid a finger along the side of his jaw, turning his face back to hers. “Baraccus is dead. We’re not.”

“Still . . .”