Kit concentrated with an effort that made her temples throb. "Directly ahead, in the vicinity of the chapel. Below it, I think."

Heart hammering, she hastened toward the building, scarcely aware of her surroundings or the rain in her face. She reached the chapel and was fumbling for the knob when Lucien snapped, "Don't open the doors! There's light showing below."

She glanced down and saw that he was right.

As impatient as Kit, Jason said, "It's probably only the watchman. We can take care of one man."

"No doubt," Lucien replied. "Nevertheless, let's find another entrance. I believe that around to the right there's a side door that leads into the banquet hall."

They skirted the building until they found it. Lucien went to work on the lock, his movements so careful that Kit heard nothing even though she was less than six feet away. There was a faint click. He eased the door open, then ghosted through.

After a moment of listening he motioned for the others to follow. The banquet hall was a large room with the shapes of tables and chairs dimly visible in the faint glow that came from the far left corner. Wordlessly, he led the way toward the light, moving around the edge of the room to avoid the furniture.

At the entrance to the hall he pressed on Kit's shoulder in a silent order to stay. Leaving Jason with her, Lucien and Michael moved forward along the passage that went to the chapel.

The wait seemed endless. She clenched her hands into fists and forced herself to be still. Then, almost inaudible over the sounds of rain splattering against the windows, she heard a muffled cry, followed by a thud. A couple of minutes later, the men returned, Michael carrying a lighted taper that he used to ignite the two lamps Jason was carrying. The glass was shielded so that only narrow beams were emitted, but they were a great improvement over the dark.

"All clear," Lucien said. "There was only one guard."

"You didn't..." Kit said nervously.

"Merely knocked senseless and tied up," Michael assured her. "I never kill anyone without a reason."

She wondered if his nonchalance was bone-dry humor, then decided it wasn't. He had lived in a very different world from hers. As the men began searching through the small rooms and corridors that lay behind the chapel, she bent her head and probed inward to locate her sister.

She gasped when she succeeded. Kira's energy was scalding-not only close, but terrified. Though Kit tried to send a message of reassurance, she was unsuccessful; Kira was too distressed to feel her sister's presence.

Kit raised her head again, aware of a deep thrumming at the edge of her hearing. Unable to identify it, she went to Lucien. "What is that low, rumbling noise?"

He cocked his head and listened. From his expression she saw that he had not noticed it until she spoke.

"Machinery," he said with a frown. "Something like a steam boiler, I think. A very large one." If machines were running, there must be other people about. Kit had been right; this was going to be more difficult than anticipated.

"Over here," Jason called softly from around the corner.

When the other three reached him, Jason opened the door that he had discovered. Steps led down to an illuminated corridor and the sound of chanting voices filled the stairwell.

Lucien eased the door shut. "Damnation, the Disciples are holding one of their rituals tonight."

"Today is the winter solstice," Jason said tautly. "They probably play at paganism by celebrating the change of season."

Lucien thought back. "Very likely. It was around Midsummer Day when Ives's friend heard the screaming here."

"Didn't the Druids practice human sacrifice?" Michael asked.

Kit gave a gasp of horror and moved to open the door, ready to hurl herself downward. Lucien intercepted her. "Wait," he said sharply as he caught her upper arm. "Stay close to me."

She looked at him blindly, and he guessed that she was linked with her sister's mind again. He gave her a little shake. "Kit, if we are to rescue Kira, you must stay with us mentally as well as physically."

She gulped, then nodded, her eyes clearing. "I understand."

Michael opened the door again, then led the way down the stairs. The others followed, first Jason, then Kit, with Lucien bringing up the rear. The worn steps and rough walls were the coarse stone of medieval construction. As they descended, the chanting became much louder. A single deep voice would intone a phrase, followed by a chorused response. The language was largely unintelligible, but might be a bastardized form of Latin.

The thrumming intensified as well, vibrating through the stone. With every step, the sense of menace increased until Lucien wanted to jump from his skin.

He suspected that his unease was less a premonition of disaster than concern for Kit. Though he was not a stranger to mortal peril, in the past he had risked only his own life. Now he was far more worried about Kit's safety than he had ever been about his own.

It didn't help that Kit seemed ready to shatter from nerves. The bond between them might not be as close as he wished, but it was strong enough for him to be affected by her emotions. The depth of her fear struck haunting echoes of the desperate panic he had felt when trying to save Elinor.

His mouth tightened. He had failed his sister, but he would not fail again.

The corridor at the bottom of the steps ran in both directions, while the stairs turned and continued downward. To the right was more of the old stonework, but the chanting and light came from the left, where the passage seemed to have been carved directly from the chalk core of the hill.

Lucien touched Kit's shoulder inquisitively. She grimaced and pointed at the blank wall. Apparently, Kira was ahead of them and it wasn't clear which would be the best way to reach her.

Soft-footed, Michael went to investigate the light and disappeared around a corner. A few moments later he came back into view, surprise on his face, and made a gesture that ordered both caution and silence. The other three went after him.

What they found was astonishing. The corridor led to a shadowy wooden gallery that ran around all four sides of a huge chamber. It appeared to be a natural cavern that had been shaped into a roughly cubical space. Moisture glistened on the walls from the rain that was saturating the hill. Well below them, in the center of the chamber, stood the Disciples, garbed in scarlet robes and vaguely ecclesiastical headdresses. Lucien was surprised to see that there were only thirteen. The eerie echoes of the chanting had made it sound like a much larger group.

In each corner of the chamber stood a burly man in black robes and turban, holding a broadsword upright before him. Ives had been right; the guards looked like retired pugilists.

Most startling of all were the statues, a double circle within the square of the chamber. There were easily thirty figures, all of them larger than life, perhaps seven feet tall. Each effigy depicted a weapon-wielding warrior, with no two alike. A Roman gladiator with a short sword and round shield stood opposite a fierce African with a vicious throwing knife. A bearded Viking with a battle-ax snarled across the room at a menacing Turk with a scimitar while a foot soldier with a halberd glared at a mace-bearing medieval knight.

Made of metal and painted to look real, they were unnervingly lifelike. Lucien had a nightmarish vision of the effigies coming alive and using their weapons to destroy anyone who tried to pass through the rings to reach the Disciples.

In the very center of the chamber, standing between two bonfires, stood the leader, the only one facing toward the intruders. It was Mace, his arms stretched high over his head. Above him hung a large chandelier and behind was a large, flat stone altar. Lucien's stomach turned; the altar looked as if it was designed for human sacrifice.

Kit must have guessed that, for she gave a shudder. Luckily, there was no sign of Kira. If she was scheduled to be the sacrificial victim of some barbaric rite, it hadn't happened yet.

Kit stepped back and pointed downward and back the way they had come. Kira must be on the same level as the ceremony. After a last look at the bizarre scene, Lucien followed the others as they returned to the stairwell and descended again.

The stairs ended on the next level. This time a passage led straight, as well as to right and left. Kit moved confidently into the middle corridor. Candles burned in niches along the walls, illuminating devils' masks that had been carved into the soft chalk. They leered with life, the faces glistening sweatily with the moisture exuding from the stone.

As they followed Kit, Lucien began to believe they might be able to extricate Kira without alerting the Disciples. That would be the safest course, though Lucien would regret not having the chance to wreak violence on the arrogant bastard responsible for the abduction. He comforted himself with the thought that justice might be delayed, but it would be done. He would make sure of that Kit was several feet ahead of him, looking neither left nor right as she strode along. The other two were behind, keeping a sharp eye on their surroundings. Ahead of Kit, Lucien saw that a band of darker stones crossed the corridor floor. Concealed within were holes several inches square. The dark band ran up the walls and continued across the ceiling. As he wondered what the purpose might be, Kit stepped on one of the dark stones.

The stone shifted with a clink, and all hell broke loose.

Chapter 36.

Heavy bells began clanging, reverberating through the passage with ear-numbing power. Kit froze, her head whipping around to see what had happened.

Lucien heard a grating sound and looked up. A heavy iron portcullis was starting to fall from a slot masked by the dark stones-and Kit was standing directly below. He shouted her name and hurled himself forward, knocking her beyond the pointed stakes of the plummeting gate. She pitched to the floor, and he came tumbling after her.

With a boom that echoed through the passage, knocking chips of chalk from the ceiling, the portcullis crashed into the stone floor. Something grazed his right ankle, and he looked back to see that he had not jumped quite far enough to clear the path of the gate.

By sheer luck his leg lay between two of the viciously pointed stakes. A few inches to either side and his ankle would have been impaled, pinning him to the floor. As it was, his foot was caught in the narrow space between the floor and the bottom bar of the portcullis.

The bells were still tolling, and in the cavern a furious voice bellowed, "Intruders have entered. Find them!"

Bloody hell! Lucien wrenched his foot free, then scrambled up. If the portcullis couldn't be raised, Michael and Jason would be trapped between it and the angry Disciples.

Michael had already seen the danger. He heaved at the iron gate, then shook his head. "We'll never move this thing. Luce, you and Kit keep going." Calmly he unslung his carbine and cocked the hammer. "Travers and I can handle that lot."

Kit had risen and was staring at the other men, her face stricken. Lucien grabbed her arm. "We can't do anything. Don't worry, they're armed. Our job is to find Kira."

Kit gulped and nodded, then turned to continue along the corridor. "She's very close now."

The passage turned left. Fifty yards later, it split into four narrower tunnels that wound out of sight like Medusa's locks. Kit stopped and stared at the new obstacle.

Lucien asked, "Do you have any idea which of these passages we should take?"

Before she could answer, an exchange of gunshots and a shout of pain sounded behind them. Kit caught his arm, her face agonized. "Oh, God, that sounded like Jason. We must go back to help them."

"I'm not sure it was him." He frowned. "And I'll be damned if I'll take you into a tunnel where bullets are flying."

"Then go alone," she urged. "I'll stay here. Even if you can't get past the portcullis, you can shoot through it."

More shots, and another scream. Lucien winced. "Very well, I'll go look. Stay here-don't even think of moving unless someone attacks you from one of these small tunnels. If that happens, come for me."

As soon as she nodded, he raced down the tunnel, then rounded the corner, keeping low. The skirmish had generated eye-stinging clouds of acrid smoke, but once he blinked his eyes clear, he saw that Michael and Jason were unhurt. Both were crouched by the wall, weapons ready, while more distant figures were retreating. A black-turbaned guard lay unmoving on the floor, and a trail of blood showed that at least one fleeing man had been wounded.

Deciding that his friends had the situation well in hand, he pivoted and returned to Kit. As soon as he swung around the corner, he uttered a curse so blistering it should have brought down more fragments of chalk.

She was gone.

When Lucien left, Kit leaned against the wall, glad for a chance to catch her breath. But when she relaxed, she became horribly aware of the clamoring bells. The clanging stabbed through her, triggering a panic more real than the outside world.

Oh, God, the bells must mean that he's coming for me! He said it would be tonight. I must be ready.

Kit pressed her hands to her temples, knowing that she was in Kira's mind, Kira's fear. Panting, she struggled to escape her twin's terror, for she could not afford to lose herself now.

She thought of Lucien, and managed to separate herself from her sister. When she was clearer, she sent out a mental call. Where are you? We're very near. Show me how to find you, love!

But she couldn't break through. Her twin's anguish was as blazing and impenetrable as a house on fire, and it threatened to drag Kit in again. Once more she struggled to maintain her clarity, but before she could free herself, fear struck again. This time it came from another source. In some impossible way, she could feel the abductor moving toward her sister.

Reason collapsed. Blindly, beyond thought, Kit shoved away from the wall and darted into the farthest left tunnel. In her head was a hazy mental map that showed her sister as a still white light and the abductor an oozing mass of darkness approaching from the left.

Her tunnel ended in a larger, brighter passage. She entered and swung left, then came face-to-face with Lord Mace. Tall and scarlet clad, with barbaric chains crossing his chest and supporting weapons at his side, he was a fearsome sight. He stopped dead when he saw her, astonishment on his narrow face.

Her chest heaving from her running, she said furiously, "I won't let you touch her again, you monster."

His eyes lit up. "Well, bless my wicked soul, it's the other one, Cassie the Second. Truly heaven is smiling on me." He began stalking toward her. "It appears that I shall be able to experience my fantasy after all."

Only then did Kit's mind throw off the dazed instinct that had brought her here. Good God, she had been insane to leave Lucien behind. Now she must confront a vicious madman without a weapon. She hadn't a prayer of defeating him.

But she could slow him down. The longer he was delayed, the better the chance that Lucien would find either her or Kira.

Knowing Mace would not expect her to attack, she hurled herself at him. Her sudden assault knocked him from his feet. She fell sprawling on top. Before she could extricate herself, he grabbed her shoulders and rolled over, trying to pin her beneath him. "What a quick creature you are," he said with queer, bone-chilling calm. "Every bit the equal of your twin."

She spat in his face.

A wild skirmish followed, with her kicking, punching, scratching, and kneeing. She hurt him and found savage pleasure that it was not the sort of pain he enjoyed. But her best efforts could do no more than delay the inevitable. When he slammed a fist into her solar plexus, she was stunned to the point where she could not resist when he tied her wrists behind her back with a handkerchief.

Jerking her to her feet, he said conversationally, "I had even prepared private quarters for you in anticipation of your abduction. Unfortunately, the men I hired were unequal to the task. I should have participated myself, as I did with your sister. But never mind, you are here now."

Half concealed in the folds of his robe were a scabbard on one side and a holstered pistol on the other. Though she guessed that the weapons were worn for ceremonial purposes, they were lethally real. He pulled the pistol from the holster and touched the cold barrel to the nape of her neck. "Come along, Cassie the Second. After you have changed into the costume I had prepared for you, it will be time for the ceremony. There you will see your sister again. I hope she will appreciate your gallantry in throwing your life away to find her. Most touching. I wonder if my brother, Roderick, would sacrifice himself for my sake. Somehow I doubt it, though he has always been happy to pimp for me."

Teeth gritted, Kit snapped, "You should give up and get out while you can, Mace. My companions will not be so easily captured as I was, and if I am injured, they will want justice."

He stopped and unlocked a door on the left side of the passage. "If they aren't dead yet, they will be soon. They are outnumbered and outgunned, and they know nothing of the traps I have scattered throughout my little subterranean kingdom."

He took a candle from one of the sconces, then with the pistol waved her into the room. When he lit a lamp, she saw it was furnished as a bedroom. He opened a cabinet and pulled out a collection of black garments. Kit recognized it as the decadent kind of outfit she had seen in her dreams of Kira.

He drew a curved, wickedly gleaming knife from the scabbard that hung opposite the pistol and sliced through her bonds. "Put these on," he ordered.

"No," she said flatly.

He brandished the knife so that the blade flashed ominously. "I would quite enjoy cutting off your clothing and dressing you by force."

The thought of him touching her intimately made her want to gag. Drawing on her acting skills, she said calmly, "That would be time-consuming. Won't your fellow perverts tire of waiting?"

He frowned. "You're right, I shouldn't neglect my guests. Still, I must insist on the costume. You have to look exactly like your sister when you go to the altar."

When he took a step toward her, she had to fight the instinct to bolt. Resigning herself, she said, "I'll put the outfit on voluntarily if you'll wait outside."

"A reasonable compromise. I can wrestle with you as much as I want later. Just make sure that you lace the costume tightly." He ran his tongue over his lips. "The effect is most enticing."

After he left the room and closed the door, Kit collapsed on a chair, shaking. As always when she was deeply distressed, she reached out for help. But this time she did not go to Kira, who was near the breaking point herself, but to Lucien. The thought of his strength and steadfastness brought her a measure of calm.

She got to her feet and surveyed the room in hopes of finding a potential weapon, but there was nothing. Nor could the door be bolted or barricaded from the inside. Lips tight, she began dressing as slowly as she could.

When Lucien found that Kit was missing, he reserved his choicest curses for himself. He should have known better than to leave her when she was in danger of sliding into that trancelike, sister-focused state.

She had to have entered one of the four passages, but which one? Mentally crossing his fingers, he went into the second from the left. It wound sinuously through the chalk, with gruesome, catacomb-style niches filled with animal bones.

Where the hell was Kit?

He rounded a bend and collided with someone coming the other way. Not Kit, unfortunately, but a burly guard with a pistol who must be on his way to investigate the gunshots. The impact knocked them both off-balance. By the time the guard recovered enough to raise his weapon, it was too late. Lucien kicked the gun from the other man's hand, then smashed him in the jaw with a hard right and an even harder left.

The guard dropped to the floor, unconscious. After confiscating the pistol and ammunition, Lucien tied the fellow up with his own shabby cravat. Then he stood and examined his surroundings. He was in a small chamber with another passage coming from the left. A table, two chairs, and a lamp were set in the center of the room, with cards splayed across the table, interrupted in the middle of a hand of solitaire.

Not a sign of Kit, but there was a heavy, iron-bound door on the opposite wall. He searched the guard and found a large brass key. It snicked neatly into the lock. As he turned the key, he prayed that Kira was inside. If she was, they could head for safety as soon as they located Kit again. She couldn't be far away.