Talia squeezed her eyes shut. "Stop it."

"Are you hungry yet? Give it a day or two and I'll bring Max in. I daresay it's been a while since you've had anything but a dog to eat."

Oh, no. She locked her knees, fighting the shudder that quaked through her. She couldn't feed on her brother. It was bad enough that she'd betrayed him to Baines in the car as they drove to the university. But that's exactly why her sire would starve her and then send Max in. It was her worst nightmare.

Belenos bent, and pressed his twisted mouth to hers. She could feel the scar tissue of his skin against hers, cold and hard and vampire dead. As she fought the impulse to gag, he thrust his good hand up the hem of her sweater, working his fingers under the lace of her bra. Clenching her body, Talia stayed perfectly still, knowing that if she recoiled there would only be more to come.

"You're so frigid, I'd almost say someone had killed you." He gave a soundless laugh that filled the room like a dirty secret.

"Let me go." She didn't open her eyes, but whispered the words like a prayer.

"It's not time yet."

His last reply made her flinch. What had she heard in his voice? Antic.i.p.ation. "I've waited for this for months. Oh, I've known where you were, Talia. This is the computer age, after all, but I let you think you were safe. What's the fun of having the humans send you back to me when I was just waiting for the right opportunity to come after Omara? The bonus of paying you a visit made this trip well worth the air miles. You're my killone, get-one-free special."

He leaned closer. "There's something I want you to see."

Talia kept her eyes closed. She was shutting him out. Denying what he had to offer.

"Look at me," Belenos said, suddenly furious.

She squeezed her eyelids tighter, like a toddler having a tantrum.

He grabbed her chin, pulling her forward as far as the bonds allowed. "Look at me!" he roared. As he squeezed, she felt the slide of flesh against her jawbone.

Her eyes snapped open, glistening with the pain.

"That's better." With his free hand, he pulled a quartz sphere out of his pocket. "I'm in charge. Don't forget that."

He released her chin, letting her slump back against the chair. Her jaw throbbed, a pain for every place his fingers had crushed her.

He lifted the quartz. It sparked to life, a firefly of light glowing at its center and then blooming to fill the sphere. Talia watched with deep suspicion as the bright ball glowed in his hand, r.i.m.m.i.n.g the edges of his fingers with transparent red.

He shielded the quartz with one hand, hiding it from her view. "Let's see who is down here. Where is Detective Baines? He was last seen b.u.mbling into the wrong part of the underground."

The image of Baines was blurry at first, but came slowly into focus. The detective was sitting on the ground, loading what looked like the last clip of ammunition into his sidearm. Baines looked dirty and in a desperate hurry, but there was no blood or broken bones that Talia could see.

Oh, wait. Baines was getting to his feet now, but struggling, using the wall for support. Something was wrong with his right leg. He couldn't seem to put weight on it.

Belenos zoomed the image out a little, getting more of the surrounding area. "There are plenty of places where the tide has chewed caves into the soft rocks beneath the harbor, and many more where the tunnel floors are just wooden planking over the pits beneath. After a hundred years, some of that wood has rotted away. I'm afraid our brave detective has fallen through."

Talia's chest seized with tension. When the tide came in-around midday-all those underground caves would fill up, but that was a future problem. Right now, Baines had other issues. He wasn't alone in the cave. Something had fallen in with him.

The cat looked like a creature made by magic, or it might have escaped from the Castle. It looked like a standard tabby alley cat-scraggly, thin, and mean-except it was bigger than nature intended. It must have weighed a couple hundred pounds.

It was looking at Baines as if he were a baby bird. Easy, tasty pickings. Baines was hurt, trapped, and running out of ammunition.

"Oh, this is too good, don't you think?" Belenos cooed. He rose from his chair and crouched down beside her, showing her a better view of what he'd conjured in the stone. "What you see is what's happening right now. How do you like my kitty? I made him specially to keep the detective from getting bored."

"No!" she cried, forgetting herself and trying to rise from the chair.

It rocked forward, forcing Belenos to grab the back to steady it. The lapse of concentration made him lose the image.

"Bring it back! I have to see what happens!"

The desperation, the begging in her voice was a mistake. His mouth curled into a smile. "I bet you think your dog is going to ride to your rescue like a true-blue hero."

He waited for the doubt, the wounded look as she took in his words, but her gaze remained steady. Lore doesn't leave his people behind.

He gave a low huff of amus.e.m.e.nt and waved his hand again, and then she saw Lore, a fireball flying through the air over his head.

"Tsk, bad aim."

"What is that fire?" Talia asked.

"Why, that's how sorcerers fight, my duck. Basic wizardry. I've been teaching my troop leaders to use more than just guns. It's hard for the enemy to shoot back when they're burning to cinders. And werebeasts hate it. Teeth and claws are of no use, so all your hounds and wolves are just fish in a barrel, if you'll forgive the zoological contradiction. The tunnels will positively stink with burning dog hair."

Talia could see the hilt of a knife in his belt, but her hands and feet were bound. She wanted so desperately to grab it and slide the blade into his heart, she could feel the texture of the hilt against her fingers.

Belenos stood, checked his watch. "Tick-tock. Time to run. Next time I come back, maybe we'll check on your friends. Maybe not."

"For G.o.d's sake, what do you want from me?" Talia let her fury show.

"Still plenty of fight left in you. Good. Next time, I'll bring some toys. I'm dying to try out some of Omara's techniques."

Belenos slid the quartz into his pocket.

"What. Do. You. Want?" she hissed.

He picked up the gag, wrenching it back into her mouth. "Entertainment, my duck. It's that simple. Le roi s'amuse. You owe it to me after stealing my money and running away. But that's the last time-I've learned how to keep track of my things."

He patted the pocket where he'd put the scrying ball. "Don't forget that I'm watching you. There's no escape from me. Ever."

He ran a hand down the curve of her cheek, and then planted a kiss on her forehead.

Belenos's men had one important strategic advantage, Lore decided. They knew the map of the underground warren, where the turnings were, where the dead ends could trap their enemy. What had begun as a rescue mission and sweep of the underground was turning into an all-out battle. Belenos wasn't the only magic user on deck. His minions had training, too.

Where Lore had four bands of fighters, the sorcerer had dozens of small groups armed with fireb.a.l.l.s roaming the tunnels. Lore had expected resistance, but nothing so deadly.

He'd gone to hound form, along with the others in his fighting unit. They were better trackers and faster runners on four feet. Plus, they were harder to kill-and the fireb.a.l.l.s were coming thick and fast. Some of the creatures in the Castle had used similar ammunition, and Lore knew from experience how deadly it could be. There was a score down his back where one had skimmed over him. If he'd been on two legs, he'd be toasted. As it was, every step pulled and twinged.

It made him twice as determined to secure the area so he could search for the captives. He'd sent out volunteers to begin looking for Baines and Talia, but the danger was extreme. If only I could go myself. But he was the general of the hounds, and he had to lead.

Lore crouched on his belly and crawled along the base of the tunnel wall. He could smell a mix of human and vampire. He wished he'd brought a troll or two. Or a dragon.

Lore stopped his advance. His hounds had been chasing a larger group of fighters, and they'd entrenched themselves in this pa.s.sage. Lore was close enough to see what his team was up against now. There was a pile of rubble across the tunnel forming a barricade. The bad guys were behind it, using the rocky debris for cover.

Okay, not imaginative but effective, up to a point.

The king's lieutenants should have watched more Westerns. Lore backed up, reversing the crouched shuffle until it was safe to turn and trot back to his men. They were waiting in the darkness of a tunnel mouth, nine pairs of glowing red eyes. Lore gave his instructions. Four of the hounds trotted back the way Lore had come, prepared to draw fire. Lore led the rest down an adjoining hall.

Anyone with brains-or a pa.s.sing knowledge of old action movies-knew enough to sneak up behind the barricade or fort or wagon and get the enemy that way. He just hoped there was a tunnel that looped back to the right spot to launch his attack. Surprise and timing were his best weapons.

The hounds flowed through the tunnels at a fast trot, turning left and then left again. It felt like they had been down there for hours, but he'd lost track of time. Like a pendulum, his mind returned to Talia. Was she hurt? The thought spun through him like a whirling blade. He wanted to break away and go find her, to flee instead of risking both their lives in an insane battle under the streets.

The fight with Mavritte in Joe's hotel had clarified much in his mind. Vampire or not, Talia was his mate. He knew it by her scent, by her touch, and by the way his heart clung to hers. He'd known it that moment in the parking lot, when she'd taken his hand. His brain hadn't put it together then, but his soul had known.

It explained why he felt he had always known her, and yet they had only just met. It explained why he would stop at nothing to have her. He wasn't going to compromise. If he was the type to give up, the hounds would still be rotting in the Castle. Compromise wasn't who he was.

He was the one who faced a fully loaded sorcerer, because it was his job to stand guard.

Some days it sucked to be Alpha.

Lore stopped, listening to the noise ahead. The other hounds gathered close around him, flanks touching. Voices. The hum of magic.

This fight was about to get interesting. The route he'd chosen had been the right one, leading to an undefended junction about fifty yards behind the barricade. He'd found the launch point for their attack.

But Lore hesitated. Why had they left this point undefended? He used all his senses, but there was nothing to detect. Nothing but the bombardment of fireb.a.l.l.s and the frantic yips of the brave hounds he'd left at the other end of the tunnel. They were doing a good job, making enough noise for ten hounds under attack instead of four.

It was a nightmare moment, his instincts telling him to wait while his brain demanded that he move forward. Lore bargained with himself, weighing the risks. Was he underestimating the enemy? Was he giving them too much credit? What hadn't he antic.i.p.ated?

Well, he couldn't stand there all day, while his followers shifted from paw to paw with m.u.f.fled impatience. In the end, he had to take the chance.

Silently, they glided into the main tunnel, taking position. The hounds spread out, fanning across the width of the pa.s.sage. From there they would silently pad close to their fireball-throwing a.s.sailants, and then show them what h.e.l.lhounds could do.

It wasn't until Lore was in formation, in the center of the pack, that he saw the problem.

These new tunnels were wide and high, and just as the walls began to curve into the arch overhead, there was a jog in the brickwork that formed a narrow shelf on both sides. There were snipers sitting up there, wearing drab green vests marked with the crossed-blade symbol of the Hunters. Hunters!

The muzzles of their rifles were pointed straight at the hounds. There wasn't much that could injure hounds, but ammunition laced with quicksilver would-the metal of Mercury, who ruled the hounds as they guided the souls of the dead to the beyond. Obscure stuff, but the Hunters would know that. They taught that kind of thing to their kids in nursery rhymes.

Lore gave a single, sharp bark to signal retreat.

They turned tail and ran, leaving the snipers to splatter the tunnel with bullets. As the bullets. .h.i.t the brickwork, explosions of silver liquid blotched the walls.

The hounds raced, outrunning the rifle fire, but there were also fireb.a.l.l.s, sailing low over their heads, singeing the fur from their backs. The heat cut like a razor. Lore flattened his ears against his head, making himself as long and low as he could. He heard a yelp of pain. One of the other hounds wasn't as quick or as lucky.

Wait. I've been here before!

The tunnel narrowed, the side tunnels coming less and less frequently. They ran so fast, the brickwork blurred into a red-brown wash. They were being stampeded. At the end of the tunnel would be a dead end, where they all would die.

He'd had this prophecy. He knew how it ended.

Slaughter.

This is how his father had died: the pack racing for their lives, herded into a killing zone by demons. When Lore's father had turned to defend his people, it had been too late.

Not this time. Lore wasn't playing their game. He wheeled on his hind paws and began racing back the other way.

Right into danger. With what breath he could spare, he began baying a distress call.

The others took it up.

He had forty-five seconds before he was in range of the Hunters' rifles.

Chapter 29.

If one didn't like spiders, the underground tunnels were a lousy place to be. Darak's cooler body temperature made him unappealing to most biting insects, but they still creeped him out. Give him a Bengal tiger in a snit; spare him the crawly things. Not that he'd ever admit that.

Webs and broken egg sacks lined the stone walls. Something down here was good eating, if the spiders liked the place that much.

"Is this the only way we can go?" demanded the queen.

It was the first complaint she'd made, so he was okay with the question. "It's the least expected one. This pa.s.sage should be unguarded. We'll have you at the Hilliard Fairview in fifteen minutes."

Rather than risking a long, exposed drive on the highway, Omara had taken a connecting flight from the airport to the inner harbor via float plane. Nia-who had avoided playing hostage because of the queen's early arrival-was in charge of guarding the motorcade that was supposed to be carrying the queen. The plan was to trick Belenos into thinking Omara was in her limo aboveground, even while she was hoofing it through the sewers. The ruse would hopefully buy enough time for Lore to put Belenos out of business.

Darak stole a glance down at Omara. She ruled a vast territory in the Pacific Northwest, but she was tiny, dressed in a long coat of fine white wool trimmed with a fluffy white fur collar. One long black braid hung over her shoulder, a sharp contrast to all that white. Her eyes were the shade of dark honey, her skin of pale cinnamon. Though she barely looked twenty, she was far older than Darak.

A relay of phone calls through Lore and some guy named Caravelli had prepared her. Otherwise, a hihow's-your-flight from half a dozen rogue mercenaries would not have gone well.

She sighed with relief when they reached a main junction. Darak and Iskander held up their flashlights. They were in the front, the queen and two of her personal guards were next, another two of Darak's men bringing up the rear.

They swept the flashlight beams around, identifying a fork in the tunnels. One had a stream of water down the middle. The unmistakable stink of rotting kelp hung in the air.

"What is that?" Omara asked, putting a hand to her nose.

"We're close to the harbor, Your Majesty" said Iskander, who was far more polite than Darak. "Some of these places fill up when the tide comes in. The tunnels were used to haul goods from the ships."

"Smuggling, you mean," she said, sounding a bit amused. Like all women, she seemed to think Iskander was adorable. That had been his talent as a body slave.

When they came to the next fork, they went right. Now the tunnels looked dirty and dark, but blessedly dry. In the beam of the flashlight, Darak could see where the layers of sand and dirt formed smooth carpets, and where it looked like feet had churned it up.

"These tunnels are definitely in use," the queen murmured. "Are you sure this route is secure?"

Darak traced the path with the light. "Whoever was down here went this same way."

They went into what looked like a narrow service pa.s.sage lined with bricks. He guessed it was part of an old coal delivery chute, rebuilt to serve another purpose. Farther along, there was still black dust clinging to the bricks.

Iskander consulted the map he'd printed off the Empire Hotel's computer. "I think we're under Fort Street. That utility door to the left must lead to the bas.e.m.e.nt of another hotel."