They found another sitting room nearby. One moment, they were staring at each other. The next moment, they were holding each other, shaking.

“You stupid prick,” Daemon said. “What were you thinking of, drawing a line like that?”

“Me?” Lucivar squeezed hard enough to leave Daemon breathless. “You’re the one who left yourself open to every kind of attack. Hell’s fire, Bastard. You didn’t even try to shield.”

“Couldn’t take the chance of igniting his rage.”

“I know.”

Daemon eased back enough to rest his forehead against his brother’s. “Scared me, Lucivar. Seeing him like that. Watching you draw that line. All of it. Really scared me.”

“Scared me too.” Lucivar hesitated. “You would have killed him. If it came down to that, you would have killed him.”

Daemon closed his eyes. “Yes. Would have tried to anyway. Actually, I figured the best I could do was weaken him enough before he crippled me, so that you would be able to finish it.”

“Well, that’s good to know.” Another hesitation, then Lucivar said,“We’re not the only ones who have scars. He hides his better than most men, but he’s got some.”

“Yeah.” He wasn’t about to forget this particular scar anytime soon.

“Daemon . . .” Lucivar eased back a little more, but still kept his hands on Daemon’s shoulders. “There’s something I’d like to ask you. If you can’t tell me, I’ll understand.”

“All right,” Daemon replied, not liking the wariness now filling Lucivar’s eyes.

“I meant what I said about Jaenelle’s temper riding the scary kind of bitchy.”

“Not the side of her temper a smart man would choose to tangle with.”

“It was Witch’s side of her temper. More than that. The look in her eyes . . .” Lucivar shook his head, frustrated. “For a moment, when I looked into her eyes, it felt like the abyss had opened up right under me and . . . I haven’t felt that kind of power since . . .” He sighed. “Hell’s fire. I don’t even know what I’m asking.”

Yes, you do, Daemon thought. Making a choice, he brushed lightly against Lucivar’s inner barriers, asking to enter his brother’s mind.

Lucivar hesitated a moment, then opened all his inner barriers, giving Daemon access to everything he was. Leaving himself completely vulnerable.

Daemon moved carefully and went deep because what he was about to give his brother was information that had to be kept secret.

When he reached the most protected part of Lucivar’s mind, he offered two images: Saetan’s memory of a tangled web that turned dreams into flesh, and his own memory of the Misty Place and a spiraling web of power—the power Witch had chosen to give up in order to have a more ordinary life.

“Mother Night,” Lucivar whispered, his eyes widening. “Then the power is still there.”

“It’s still there.”

“Could she claim it again?”