Mr. Philips pulled the cord from the phone and the laughter died. Several of the crew were crying around the edges of the sets, and Frederick took the phone.

I watched him, afraid to stand. If I moved, I would lose control. Already the berserker in me clawed at the inside of my brain, calling me to kill, maim, destroy.

I took a long, shuddering breath, searching for calm. I could not succumb to that instinct.

"So, Jean-Paul," Frederick said in his sweet voice. "Tired of feeding hookers to pigs, time to move up and snatch schoolteachers?" Of course he knew all about Katie. He knew all about me.

So the goons were from this Jean-Paul guy. The fire, and the threats. And Sawyer, dragon himself, had only invested in a place I worked.

And suddenly the world got a whole lot weirder-if that was possible-as I realized not only that dragons existed but also that Frederick wasn't the only one in the world. How many more of the damned things were there?

I'd been played for a chump. Only question was how far was Rolph into this? Did he know, or was he a patsy as well?

Frederick closed the cell phone and walked over to me. He held a hand out to me, and I stared at it for a few moments. I stood on my own, stepping back from him and holding Gram between us. There might be another wolf in the chicken coop, but this one still had all his teeth.

Frederick nodded and lowered his hand to his side. "Jean-Paul is-" He paused, considering. "-unsavory."

"Why did he call?" I asked, looking over at Carl and Jennifer, who were in each other's arms. Jennifer had her head on Carl's shoulder, and I could hear her crying.

"We have both been played the fool," Frederick said. "As has your dwarf friend, Rolph Brokkrson."

I realized that he wasn't snowing me. Gram allowed me to not only see through the glamour of the giants, but allowed me to know that Frederick was telling the truth. "Rolph set me up?" I asked.

Frederick chuckled. "I recognized him the moment I smelled him," he said with a feral grin. "Let's just say I've had a chance to interact with his family in the past."

"You killed and ate them, you mean."

He shrugged. Ballsy.

"So, now what? Did he say anything? This Jean-Paul?"

His cell phone rang. "This would be Qindra," he said, holding up the phone. "May I?"

Just who the hell was Qindra-another dragon? I nodded wearily. Sure. Lovely. Regular day at the office. I stepped back from him, looked over at Carl and shrugged. I really couldn't live with them being afraid of me, hating me. "Sorry about this."

He looked at me, assessing me. "He took Katie," he said, holding Jennifer tighter. "You do what you need to do."

Relief from one corner, at least. Jennifer straightened and looked at me, horror and fear on her face.

Was it fear of the situation or fear of me?

She nodded once and a hint of a smile touched her lips.

Not me, then. I'd won a bit with that.

Frederick spoke into the phone in a language I did not recognize. He waved and Mr. Philips came over to him with a briefcase. Frederick opened it, took out pen and paper, and wrote on several pages. Then he put everything but one page back into the case, and Mr. Philips closed it with a snap.

"Very good, sir," Mr. Philips said, turning on his heel and moving toward the exit door. He passed the security guard, who stood in the doorway, confused. They spoke a moment, and the guard left with Mr. Philips.

Frederick closed the phone and walked over to the three of us.

"My apologies," he said to Carl. "But we need to shut down the shoot for a week or so."

"Wait a minute," Jennifer said. "We're already behind schedule."

Frederick waved his hand. "Just a week, and see that everyone is paid," he said.

That was generous.

"In the meantime . . ." He turned to me, holding out a piece of paper. "I'm returning to Portland for the next week or so. It has been suggested I've overstayed my welcome."

I took the paper. On it was a single phone number. Seattle prefix.

"Qindra will arrange a meeting," he said. "Exchange the women for the sword."

"Who is Qindra?"

Frederick looked at me, considering. "She is the face of Nidhogg. She has no love for Jean-Paul, nor myself."

"Pity," I said, wishing I had been paying more attention when Rolph and Jimmy were going on and on about Norse mythology. I had a feeling that I would be needing this stuff real soon.

"Yes, well. Enemy of my enemy, and all that," he said with a shrug. "She is trustworthy and indifferent. She serves her mistress and her interests. Neither mine nor Jean-Paul's are of any real concern to her."

"So why is she setting up this meet?"

He considered it, unhappy at the thought, I could see by his face.

"I have trespassed," he said, finally. "And I will make amends, but Jean-Paul has violated certain precepts and this must be handled delicately."

For a conniving, baby-eating fire-breather, I could see how Mr. Sawyer became a pillar of his community.

"So, I call this number, set up an exchange, and we all go away happy and healthy?"

He laughed. "My dear Sarah. Jean-Paul has undoubtedly done some harm to your friends, and will likely kill them before he is done. He will take the sword and make you watch while he hurts them . . . a very lot."

I shuddered. His tone was like he was ordering dinner. "And I should do this why?"

"Because I see the fire inside you, Sarah Beauhall. You wield that which my kind fear. My kind who has ruled you for generations beyond counting. Most of you are chattel who go through their lives unknowing of the power that controls your fates. But you? You have the will and the . . ." He paused, assessing. "Something about you is beyond my remembrance. It reminds me of a cautionary tale told to me by my nursemaid."

I clutched the paper in my fist, nodding.

"There was a time, before my mother's mother," he said, stepping closer and lowering his voice, "at the dawn of time, when others held power. There are rumors of rumors of one such as yourself. One who wielded the great sword, who made the world anew. Are you this great one?" he asked.

Then he turned, laughing. "Childish fears," he said, waving his hands. "No matter. I would go, if I were you, because it is your one chance to strike at him, to exact your vengeance while he thinks you are weak with fear and grief."

Vengeance I understood. It burned in my veins, swelled in my brain like the cry of carrion birds.

Forty-seven.

I WALKED OUT OF THE STUDIO, SLIPPING GRAM BACK INTO THE scabbard.

"Good luck," someone shouted from behind me. I think it was one of JJ's bimbos. Maybe Babs.

The security guard watched me from behind his little card table but did not get up.

The poor guy really was out of his league here. I stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned back, walking toward the desk. To his credit, he didn't move.

"I'm sorry," I said, taking the helmet off and running my hand through my hair. "You are just doing your job. I have done you a dishonor."

He blinked at me. "Mr. Philips told me they grabbed your girlfriend," he said. "I can't blame you."

"Doesn't excuse my behavior," I said, bowing my head. "I'll make it up to you."

"Just get the girl," he said.

I turned and walked briskly to my car. More debt to repay.

I unhooked my weapons and placed them inside the hatchback, stacking the helmet on top of the pile.

I leaned against my car and called Jimmy. Time to make this happen.

"Jimmy," he said. He always answered the phone the same way.

"It's Sarah."

"How's Katie?"

Right to the heart of the matter. That's our Jimmy. "Wrong dragon," I said, feeling ridiculous. "She was snatched by a guy out of Vancouver. I need to set up an exchange. Sword for the women."

"I see," he said. "Why aren't we calling the Feds, again?"

I tapped my forehead with the knuckles of my left hand. "Dragon, Jimmy. Remember. Giants and crazy shit. You think the Feds are going to believe this?"

"Right," he said. "I'm not sure all of us aren't certifiable. What do you need me to do?"

"Drive your truck out to the big field behind the barn and get me the GPS coordinates for that spot. I'll make a call and they'll show up."

"So, you think they are going to fly in? Drive?"

"No idea yet. Haven't called the facilitator."

He laughed, a strained and tight laugh. "Facilitator. These dragons of yours are pretty organized."

"Likely more than we ever imagined," I said.

"Hang on," he said.

I heard him close the truck door, and the bing-bing of his seat belt warning. "Okay," he said after a minute. "You ready?"

"Shoot."

I wrote down the coordinates on the back of the page with the contact number. "Might clear everyone out, just in case."

"You don't worry about us," he said. "You just set up the meeting and get out here. We gotta bring Katie and Julie home."

Great, I thought. Only Julie has no home . . . and the blame for that can be put squarely on my shoulders.

I got in the car, put on my headset, and dialed the number. While it was ringing I pulled out of the lot and began making my way to Black Briar.

The phone rang six times, then an old woman answered. "Yes, may I help you?"

"Uh, this is Sarah Beauhall. I'm calling to arrange . . ."

"Yes, yes," the woman said. "I know why you are calling, Ms. Beauhall. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't that nice man who insists on selling me the local paper again."

Funny woman. "I have the coordinates."

"Yes, I understand you are having a bit of trouble from two of the boys."

Boys? I bet this was not Qindra. "Who is this?"

"Oh, dear. Names are not important."

Yeah, right. "Is this Nidhogg?"

The woman laughed. "Now that is a name rarely spoken. There is really far too much drama in the world to be dredging up such a volatile nom de plume, don't you think?"

Yeah, whatever. "Sorry," I said. "I meant no insult. I just want my friends back."

"Of course, dear. I'm sure Jean-Paul will make the exchange in good faith. The deal is both women for the sword, do I have that correct?"

"Hell yes!"

"Noble," she said. "I will be sending an emissary of my own to make sure things are aboveboard."

"Thank you," I said.

"No thanks needed," she said. "And as one of my many thralls, I will insist that you also bargain in good faith, and hold up your end of the deal."

Thrall? I was no one's slave. "I don't know who you are, lady," I said, letting the anger creep back into my voice, "but no one owns me. If your pet Jean-Paul shows up and gives me the women unharmed, I'll give him the sword. If he's hurt them, I will cut him down."

The woman laughed, a creaky titter that sounded like the rending of desiccated flesh. "What a delight you are, my dear. So full of vim and vigor."