"Where are they?" a deep voice boomed. "Find them. The spell Rhea cast on the book told us that it's been transported here. Spread out!"

Mathias. Motherf.u.c.king h.e.l.l. The evil b.a.s.t.a.r.d himself had given chase. Not good.

Ice had no idea who Rhea was, but evidently, the witch had put a spell on the diary. The Anarki would know the Doomsday Diary's exact location as soon as someone teleported with the book.

Question was, could the spell track them as easily on foot?

Sabelle gave the tiniest of gasps, and Ice gripped her hand more tightly and ran faster, hoping she could keep up. If she couldn't, he'd carry her-whatever was needed for her and the Doomsday Diary to stay safe. Despite the fact that his legs were longer, Sabelle stayed with him, every step. His admiration for her went up another notch.

Quietly, they zigzagged around trees, gradually turning toward the abandoned house. They couldn't stay there now, of course. Likely the first place the Anarki would look. He and Sabelle would have to keep going.

Thanking G.o.d for the darkness that covered their tracks in the mud and for the fact that it hadn't snowed in Here fordshire today, he and Sabelle trekked toward the hill on the west side of the valley. Behind him, Ice heard the pursuit of several wizards, the curses when one tripped over a branch.

"Are you certain they ran in this direction?" one asked.

"Dunno. If she teleports anywhere, we'll find her," Mathias a.s.sured. "Whoever the b.i.t.c.h is, she cannot outrun us. When we find her, I will happily strip her bare and make certain she knows who her master is."

Over my dead body, Ice mentally growled.

But the conversation told him one thing: as long as he and Sabelle were on foot, unless the Anarki spotted them, they couldn't track the book. He thought briefly of hiding the book in a tree and teleporting away, but the risk was too great. If the Anarki found it. . . . No, they must press on.

Sabelle stumbled in the dark, tumbling into him. Ice secured her with an arm around her waist. She must be getting tired, yet he didn't dare slow their pace.

"Can you go a bit farther?" he whispered.

"I will," she panted.

Ice wasn't certain she could manage, but he prayed she'd find the strength.

Without a word, he stripped the pack from her back and carted it over his shoulder. Bram's dead weight flopped over the other, but like the book, he didn't dare leave Bram behind for the enemy to find-and use against them.

Sweat poured off Ice and his heart pounded a constant, violent tattoo. His lungs were about to burst, and his thighs burned. But he couldn't stop.

Finally, they approached the hill leading out of the valley. Ice was more than ready to be gone from here, find a car in the nearby town and drive to safety.

Just then the moon peeked out from the clouds, shining into the valley below. The trees leading up the sides of the hills were few and far between. Now that Sabelle was no longer carrying the pack, he realized how her white sweater all but glowed in the dark. d.a.m.n it!

They were going to have to improvise-and quickly. If she was anyone else, he'd simply slop mud over her clothes. Her shiny blond hair, too. But Sabelle Rion? Did she even know what mud was? Regardless, they didn't have time for it. Behind him, Ice heard more Anarki, sounding closer than before.

Though he might be able to coax Sabelle into running north, parallel to the river, he feared running into searching Anarki. Same with running south. The cliff was east, the river west.

They were virtually trapped.

Think, he demanded of himself. Think! If they couldn't run safely in any direction, and they couldn't teleport away, how the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l was he supposed to keep the book safe and Sabelle in one piece?

"Ice," she panted in his ear. "I know we shouldn't rest, but . . . perhaps we can take refuge in a tree?

Maybe we would be able to spot an escape route if we were up high?" He turned to her, his jaw dropping in surprise, his heart bursting with grat.i.tude. "Perfect." With a frantic gaze he looked around until he found a stout old tree with several low-hanging branches.

He helped her up, then handed the pack to her. Ice heard Anarki trampling closer. Too close. Perhaps he could teleport into the tree and balance on a branch before Mathias's minions found him? Maybe . . .

but he wasn't willing to take a chance. They needed a distraction, something to send the Anarki scrambling in another direction.

"Ice!" she hissed.

Their pursuers were coming closer still. He had to decide-now.

With a silent grunt, he heaved Bram off his shoulder and hoisted him into the next tree over. He wasn't well hidden, but between the dark and Bram's black clothing, this spot might suffice long enough to fool Mathias and his goons.

Still, he needed a distraction . . .

"Careful," Sabelle whispered urgently. "He's so ill." But not dead yet. He would be if Mathias found him.

A glance at her made Ice pause. Sabelle's white sweater flared in the moonlight like a d.a.m.n beacon, and as the Anarki crept ever closer, a tree stripped by winter of its foliage provided little camouflage.

"Give me your sweater." He whispered his demand standing at the base of the tree.

Sabelle recoiled. "What?"

So very near now, a muttered curse and footsteps shuffling through dried leaves. The Anarki were maybe a few hundred meters away. He and Sabelle had only seconds left before discovery.

"Your sweater. Now!"

Sabelle glanced down. Understanding dawned a moment later. Without pause, she crossed her arms around her waist and peeled the sweater off, then tossed it to him.

Ice tried not to think about what she might-or might not-be wearing now that she'd pulled off the thin cashmere. He glimpsed lots of bare, golden skin. d.a.m.n it all. Not only was she a temptation, but she wouldn't stay warm for long like that. Then again, time wasn't on their side.

"I'll be back. If the Anarki finds you, transport yourself and the book somewhere you'll have help."

"And leave you and Bram? No." She crossed her arms over her chest.

For a princess, she was terribly stubborn. "Promise me." She shook her head.

"Now," he demanded in a low voice the wind swept away.

"b.l.o.o.d.y cold!" an invading wizard shouted fifty meters to their left. "Hate winter." Ice dodged around the trunk of the tree and sent Sabelle another demanding glare, mouthing, "Please." Finally, she rolled her eyes. And nodded.

end.