I staggered forward, leaning on each tree as I worked my way back to the beach. He hadn't followed me into the trees, which was sound on his part due to the bulk thing.

But I now had some serious ground to cover to get back inside his optimal danger zone. Too far out and he'd rule the battle, claw and wing, bite and tail. I needed to be in close to deny him those advantages.

My right arm had begun to hurt, but I couldn't think about it. Couldn't imagine the burn and the damage there.

I walked out of the trees, dragging Gram behind me, too exhausted to lift it again. It whimpered in my mind, this close to its enemy. That's what I understood. This sword was made to kill dragons, just like Rolph had said.

Jean-Paul staggered, weaving from side to side. He was exhausted as well, from battles and loss of blood.

How many calories did a beast his size burn up? Hell, how many calories did he lose raining fire down so frequently?

He obviously had limits.

So I approached him, planning to end this one way or another. If I died, he'd be so damn hurt that the National Guard would finish him off. Or the local sheriff. Someone. I just needed to drag him down, keep whittling away at him.

"Aren't you done yet?" I grumbled when he flipped his left wing at me. I just ducked. Didn't even raise the sword. I saw him with a clarity that spoke of near total collapse. Exhaustion was diverting more and more energy into certain activities so that for the moment, I had a sense of time slowing, of each tiny motion highlighted and telegraphed.

When he lashed out with a taloned claw, I countered, bringing Gram around in both hands, cutting deep into his foot, severing one whole claw.

His guttural moan was worse than the roaring. Pain was a stranger to this man-dragon. At least pain inflicted on him by others.

Once more, as the world honed in to a pinpoint, I heard Qindra's voice in my head. "Finish him," she said.

The runes along my left calf flared with an explosion of energy, flooding my exhausted muscles with adrenalin and something I've never experienced. Magic, perhaps?

I launched myself at the beast one final time. Claws raked down my side, shredding the chain and my flesh. Blood flooded down, but I had to end this. I lunged forward, diving under a sweep of his bleeding claw.

The blade bites deep into his chest, only stopping when the crossguard smashes into shattered scales. Then I'm flung away once again and the world is reduced to the roar of the dragon, the smell of burning flesh, and pain.

Sixty-two.

OKAY, I HOPED I WAS DREAMING, BECAUSE THE AFTERLIFE could not suck this much. I zoomed into the scene, like any good dream, flying one minute and jolted into the action the next.

I rolled down the street carrying a tray of tall fluted glasses, each filled with champagne. The golden liquid rose to just inside the lip of each glass and I knew if I spilled a single drop I would die.

I was dressed in a tight skirt, and high-heel roller skates, which I would not wear on a bet. In my right hand I carried a branding iron. The tip rotated, like a slot machine, the head glowing red, the image shifting from one rune to another.

Along one side of the street were my friends: Julie stood with Carl and Jennifer, while the extras and movie crew lined up farther down. Past them, the Black Briar clan stood in single file, each facing the street, as if watching a parade.

On the left side of the street were various clusters of individuals; some I recognized, some I did not.

In one group stood Frederick with Mr. Philips and the tall blonde I thought I knew, but could not be sure.

Next, half a block away, stood Qindra in a severe suit, clutching an attache case. She stood half in shadow, and I could see the light glowing in her eyes, blue and bright.

Behind her, deep in the shadow, stood another. I could barely make out the form of her, an old woman leaning on a cane, but her eyes were not blue, rather flashing red, like flickering flame. This I assumed to be Nidhogg, Qindra's mistress.

I bent to remove the roller skates, and the second I touched the laces a roar echoed down the street toward me. I glanced back. A dragon the size of a 747, with scales various shades of green from a forest green so dark as to be nearly black, all the way to bright jade. His head was shaped like a shovel, only the size of a Buick.

I stood, and he stopped. I rolled slightly to the side with my friends, and he roared again, lumbering down the canyon of buildings that ran back to the horizon.

I stopped and rolled back toward Frederick, and the dragon lay down, twining its long neck around to meet its curling tail. Within a moment, it looked to be asleep.

You never could trust dragons, though. They could sleep with their eyes open, and see through their eyelids.

"Oh, Sarah," Frederick said from my left. "Be a doll and give us a glass of that nice wine."

"Champagne, silly," the blonde said, giggling, and I recognized her then. It was the breasts. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been lying on a chaise, letting JJ pour wine over her chest while the cameras rolled.

"Champagne is wine, my dear," Mr. Philips said, stepping to the curb and holding out a hand. "If you don't mind, Ms. Beauhall."

I rolled up and let him take two glasses from the tray. Instead of taking one from each side, he took two closest to one side, making the tray tip. I twisted my wrist to keep the tray balanced.

"Don't spill any," Frederick said with a wicked smile. "Your friend back there would be most displeased." He motioned behind me and I glanced back at the large green dragon.

"This tickles my nose," the blonde said, sipping her champagne. "I like it."

"I'm sure"-Frederick slurred, leaning over, leering at the young woman-"that we could find many things to tickle you with."

I rolled back a step as his long tongue flicked out and licked her from earlobe to collarbone, undoing the tie that held up one side of her top with a twist of the forked tip.

"Here, let me help you," Mr. Philips said, reaching forward to undo the other tie.

I turned away as her top fell around her waist.

"Thank you, Mr. Philips," Frederick said. "She looks good enough to eat."

I rolled across the street to Julie and offered her a glass of champagne, but she acted as if I wasn't there.

Jennifer glanced past me to the dragon and whispered, "She's not quite with us today." She clasped Carl's arm in her hands.

"But we're ready," Carl said, pulling away from Jennifer. "I'll go first." He turned, took his shirt over the top of his head, and pulled his shoulders back. "I want mine here on my left breast." He glanced at Jennifer. "Near my heart."

Jennifer smiled and began unbuttoning her shirt. "He's so brave. I'll get mine in the same place, please."

I stood there, shocked, as she opened her shirt and pulled her bra strap down over one shoulder, exposing her left breast.

"I was much happier when you told us it doesn't hurt," she said, smiling weakly.

Across the street, Frederick catcalled and Carl stiffened.

"It's okay," Jennifer said. "We'll not make any waves."

The brand in my right hand clicked into place, and the tip stopped on a symbol I had not seen before. I could not make it out, but it reminded me somehow of money.

I leaned forward against my will and pressed the brand against Jennifer's breast, half an inch above her nipple. She shrieked and tried to pull away, but Carl stood behind her, holding her arms back. He leaned his head beside hers and made cooing sounds. "It's okay," he said. "It only hurts for a moment."

The smell of burning flesh filled my nostrils and I wanted to vomit.

When I pulled away, her breast was burned and swollen, the brand a series of blackened scars on her flesh.

"Tha . . . thank you," she choked between sobs.

"We'll be good citizens," Carl said, stroking Jennifer's hair. "We will be as you have made us."

I branded them, the movie folk, one after another, the stench of burned flesh staining my spirit. I wept as I did it, wept as they each bared their chest openly and took the mark over their heart.

When I finished with them, Qindra beckoned me. I rolled to her side of the street, holding out the tray of champagne.

She took two glasses, being careful to take one from each side. It did not balance the tray, but it did not upset it more.

She turned, handing the second glass to the shadow. An old hand, gnarled and spotted, reached into the light and took the glass. For a moment, I could see the cane she carried, for it was indeed Nidhogg-the Corpse Gnawer. The silver head of the cane was of a dragon wrapped around a tree. The work was skilled, and looked very old.

I could not make out what Nidhogg said, but Qindra nodded and turned back to me, draining her glass in one long pull.

"Nidhogg thanks you for your service to her kind. She looks forward to you serving her for many years to come."

If she had slapped me I'd have felt less stunned.

"She has one demand, beyond all that you have done," she said, motioning toward the Black Briar line. "You are to breed within the year, as is Katie. The two children will be given to my mistress for her whims. Then you will be considered to have repaid the debt you owe her."

"What debt?" I asked, horrified by the thought not just of bearing a child, but of giving it over to that ancient beast.

"You have deprived her of one of her own," she said, directing my attention to the next spot down the line of buildings. A jacket lay on the pavement, rent with sword strokes and covered in blood.

"You will begin to make up for what you have taken from her," Qindra said, her voice full of pain. "Or she will destroy the lot."

I followed her gaze to the Black Briar clan. Jimmy stood with Deidre, Gunther and Stuart held Katie between the two of them, naked and scarred.

"They are worthy warriors," Qindra said. "Nidhogg gave you and Katie to them in exchange for their service. Pick as you will, but bear her a child."

She turned, dropping the glass to the sidewalk where it shattered with a loud crash. "And this . . ." She motioned for the brand. "I will mark your clan. You have not the privilege."

I handed her the brand and she flipped the end to a worm writhing around the base of a tall tree.

"She would brand you here," she said, touching me on the inner thigh. "To remind you of your obligation."

I glanced back to Katie. She already bore another mark, one I knew to be his mark, the black one. Yet she was to be doubly marked.

"And what happens if we fight you?" I asked, rolling back a few paces, out of Qindra's reach.

She nodded. "You will all die."

"Not the children," a dry and raspy voice whispered. "Just as you were raised in my service, so will we raise others."

Qindra stared at me; no emotion touched her face. "You and the clan will be destroyed, and others will be put in your place."

"We do not accept your mark," I said. "We will fight you."

"So mote it be," Qindra said, turning away from me and stepping into the shadow.

I dropped the tray, waited for the glasses of champagne to shatter on the ground. Instead the world was consumed by the roar of the green dragon.

Sixty-three.

"WASN'T SHE DEAD ONCE ALREADY?" SKULD'S VOICE SLIPPED into my dreams.

"Not dead, but close," Rota said. "Gunnr is quite smitten with this one."

I opened my eyes and the two Valkyries stood over me, their lean faces and long blond hair drawn back in the most severest of buns.

"Is Gunnr here?" I asked.

"See," Rota said, straightening up. "Not dead."

"Too right," Skuld confirmed, turning away. "But this one, I'm fairly sure he's never getting up again."

I pushed myself up on my elbows and looked over. Jean-Paul lay on the beach with Gram sticking up from his chest. Deep slashes and cuts covered his body. His clothing was shredded and soaked in blood.

Skuld bent down and examined him, tsking as she did.

"Don't bother with that one," Rota said. "Another will come for him."

"It's been a long time since we saw one such as he," Skuld said.

Rota held a hand out to me, and I took it, standing with neither grace nor style. "Here is a find even more rare," she said.

Skuld snorted. "Now you sound like Gunnr."

I leaned against her for a moment, allowing my body to get used to being upright.

"I've never seen anyone take such a beating and live," Rota said.

I chose to ignore the comment and went to Jean-Paul instead.

He was thoroughly dead. I pulled Gram from his chest and wiped it on his pants leg. "I need to get back," I said.