Fiona stepped toward King. She wore a slight smile. “Yes, Father,” she said and then pulled the seven-inch blade out from behind her back. Her little bare feet padded against the hard floor. Her black pajamas were dirty and full of holes. Her straight black hair hung loose around her shoulders. But her eyes were wrong. They were devoid of emotion and still, as though in shock.

He looked at the gun in his hand. He could shoot her and save himself, but it would destroy him. He’d rather die than kill her.

“Fiona, stop!” was all King could shout before she plunged the knife into his chest.

*   *   *

KNIGHT CRACKED A glow stick. It lit the small space in bright green light. They quickly scanned the space. To the right of the outside wall Knight saw some letters scratched into the stone. Had they not been near the back of the room, they would have missed it. He knelt down and held the light up to the wall and read the text.

SAVE ME

Arzu Turan. Vish tracidor vim calee. Filash vor der wash.

Vilad forsh.

“What do you make of this?” Knight asked.

“It must be some portion of the ancient language,” Bishop replied. “Something she thought could help.”

“Something that could return her to herself.”

Bishop tilted his head in agreement. The girl had certainly not been herself. “We need to get out of here.”

Knight opened his hand revealing the transmitter. “The charges are probably embedded in the wall, but they should still work.”

Bishop took out a small camera with a digital display and snapped a photo of the text. “Do it,” he said, taking a step back. But something made him pause. Something about the writing on the wall.

Knight stood waiting against the back wall. “What’s wrong?”

“Arzu Turan,” he said. “It’s a name. Turkish. Probably common for women in this area.” He looked at Knight. “I don’t think its part of the mother tongue.”

“So we leave it out?”

“Replace it,” Bishop said. “With Fiona Lane.”

Knight understood what Bishop was getting at. If Fiona had overheard the phrase directed at someone else, she might not have recognized the first part as a name. And if it was a name, Arzu Turan may have been the poor soul on the receiving end of whatever these words did. It seemed Fiona had been, too, or at least she believed she would be when she scratched the words into the wall.

Bishop took a step back. “Okay, now blow it.”

*   *   *

AS QUEEN RAN down the hallway, past the ancient armory, she glanced over her shoulder. The first of the big cats bounded into the hall behind her. The other two were close behind. Their muscles flexed with each leap forward. Their eyes focused on her, locked on target.

My God, they’re fast, Queen thought. Too damn fast!