"As we stand in the sorcerer's tower,"

Glenna continued, adding the jasper, the herbs, "we charge this flame to free your power." She dropped in her grandmother's ring.

"Magicks from the sky and sea, from air and earth we call to thee. We your servants beg this blessing, shield us in this time of testing.

We answer your charge with head, heart and hand to vanquish the darkness from the land. So we call you three times three to shield those who serve you faithfully.

"Let this cross shine light to night."

As they chanted the last line, three times three, silver smoke rose from the cauldron, and the white flames beneath it grew brighter.

It flooded her, light and smoke and heat, filled her as her voice rose with his. Through it, she saw his eyes, only his eyes locked on hers.

In her heart, in her belly, she felt it heat and grow. Stronger, more potent than anything she'd ever known. It swirled in her as with his free hand, he threw the last of the jasper dust into the cauldron.

"And each cross of silver a shield will be.

As we will, so mote it be."

The room exploded with light, and the force of it shook the walls, the floor. The cauldron tumbled over, spilling liquid silver into the flame.

The force nearly sent Glenna to the ground, but Hoyt's arms came around her. He spun his body around to shield hers from the sudden spurting flames and roaring wind.

Hoyt saw the door fly open. For an instant, Cian was framed in the doorway, drowned in that impossible light. Then he vanished.

"No! No!" Dragging Glenna with him, Hoyt broke the circle. The light shrank in on itself, swallowed itself and was gone with a crash like thunder. Through the ringing in his ears he thought he heard shouting.

Cian lay on the floor bleeding, his shirt half burned away and still smoking.

Hoyt dropped to his knees, his fingers reaching for a pulse before he remembered there would be none in any case. "My G.o.d, my G.o.d, what have I done?" "He's badly burned. Get the shirt off of him." Glenna's voice was cool as water, and just as calm. "Gently."

"What happened? What the h.e.l.l did you do?" King shoved Hoyt aside. "Son of a b.i.t.c.h.

Cian. Jesus Christ."

"We were finishing a spell. He opened the door. There was light. It was no one's fault.

Larkin," Glenna continued, "help King carry Cian to his room. I'll be right there. I have things that will help."

"He's not dead." Hoyt said it quietly, staring down at his brother. "It's not death."

"It's not death," Glenna repeated. "I can help him. I'm a good healer. It's one of my strengths."

"I'll help you." Moira stepped up, then eased her body toward the wall as King and Larkin lifted Cian. "I have some skill."

"Good. Go with them. I'll get my things.

Hoyt. I can help him."

"What did we do?" Hoyt stared helplessly at his hands. Though they still vibrated from the spell, they felt empty and useless. "It was beyond all I've done."

"We'll talk about it later." She gripped his hand, pulled him into the tower room. The circle was burned into the floor, scorched in a pure white ring. In its center glinted nine silver crosses with a circle of red jasper at the joining.

"Nine. Three times three. We'll think about all this later. I think we should let them stay there for now. I don't know, let them set."

Ignoring her, Hoyt crossed the circle, picked one up. "It's cool."

"Great. Good." Her mind was already on Cian, and what would have to be done to help him. She grabbed her case. "I have to get down, do what I can for him. It wasn't anyone's fault, Hoyt."

"Twice now. Twice I've nearly killed him."

"This is my doing as much as yours. Are you coming with me?"

"No."

She started to speak, then shook her head and rushed out.

In the lavish bedchamber, the vampyre lay still on the wide bed. His face was that of an angel. A wicked one, Moira thought. She sent the men out for warm water, for bandages, and mostly to get them out from underfoot.

Now she was alone with the vampyre, who lay on the wide bed. Still as death.

She would feel no heartbeat should she lay her hand on his chest. There would be no breath to fog a gla.s.s if she were to hold one to his lips. And he would have no reflection.

She'd read these things, and more.

Yet, he'd saved her life, and she owed him for that.

She moved to the side of the bed, and used what little magic she had to try to cool his burned flesh. Queasiness rose up and was fought down. She'd never seen flesh so scorched. How could anyone-anything-survive such wounds?

His eyes flashed open, searing blue. His hand clamped on her wrist. "What are you doing?"

"You're hurt." She hated to hear the tremor in her voice, but her fear of him-alone with him-was so huge. "An accident. I'm waiting for Glenna. We'll help you. Lie still."

She saw the instant the pain woke in him, and some of her fear died. "Lie quiet. I can cool it a little."

"Wouldn't you rather I burn in h.e.l.l?" "I don't know. But I know I don't want to be the one who sends you. I wouldn't have shot you last night. I'm ashamed I let you believe I would. I owe you my life."

"Go away, and we'll call it quits."

"Glenna's coming. Is it cooling a little?"

He simply closed his eyes; and his body trembled. "I need blood."

"Well, you won't be having mine. I'm not that grateful."

She thought his lips curved, just the slightest bit. "Not yours, though I'll bet it's tasty." He had to catch the breath the pain stole.

"In the case across the room. The black case with the silver handle. I need blood to-I just need it."

She left him to open the case, then swallowed revulsion when she saw the clear packs that held dark red liquid.

"Bring it over, toss it and run, whatever you want, but I need it now."

She brought it quickly, then watched him struggle to sit up, to tear the pack open with his burned hands. Saying nothing, she took the pack, opened it herself, spilling some. "Sorry." She gathered her strength, then used an arm to brace him, using her free hand to bring the pack to his lips.

He watched her as he drank, and she made herself look back into his eyes without flinching.

When he'd drained it dry, she laid his head down again before going into the bath for a cloth. With it she wiped his mouth, his chin.

"Small but valiant, are you?"

She heard the edge in his tone, and some return of its strength. "You haven't a choice because of what you are. I haven't one because of what I am." She stepped back when Glenna hurried into the room.

Chapter 11

"Do you want something for the pain?"

Glenna coated a thin cloth with balm.

"What have you got?"

"This and that." She laid the cloth gently on his chest. "I'm so sorry, Cian. We should have locked the door."

"A locked door wouldn't have stopped me from coming in, not in my own house. You might try a sign next time, something along the lines... b.u.g.g.e.r it!"

"I know, sorry, I know. It'll be better in a minute. A sign?" she continued, her voice low and soothing as she worked. "Something like: Flammable Magicks. Keep out."

"Wouldn't hurt." He felt the burn not just on the flesh, but down into the bone, as if the fire had burst inside him as well as out. "What the h.e.l.l were you doing in there?"

"More than either of us were expecting.

Moira, coat more cloth, would you. Cian?"

"What?" She simply looked at him, deeply, her hands hovering just above the worst of the burns. She felt the heat, but not the release. "It won't work unless you let it," she told him.

"Unless you trust me and let go."

"A high price for a bit of relief, adding that you're part of what put me here."

"Why would she hurt you?" Moira continued to coat the cloth. "She needs you. We all do, like it or not."

"One minute," Glenna said. "Give me one minute. I want to help you; you need to believe that. Believe me. Look at me, into my eyes. Yes, that's right."

Now it came. Heat and release, heat and release. "There, that's better. A little better.

Yes?"

She'd taken it, he realized. Some of the burn, just for an instant, into herself. He wouldn't forget it. "Some. Yes, some. Thanks."

She applied more cloth, turned back to her case. "I'll just clean the cuts and treat the bruises, then give you something to help you rest."

"I'm not looking for rest."

She shifted back, eased down on the bed intending to clean the cuts on his face. Puzzled, she laid her fingers on his cheek, turned his head. "I thought these were worse."

"They were. I heal quickly from most things."

"Good for you. How's the vision?"

He turned those hot blue eyes on her. "I see you well enough, Red."

"Could have a concussion. Can you get concussions? I imagine so," she said before he could answer. "Are you burned anywhere else?"

She started to lower the sheet, then flicked him a wicked glance. "Is it true what they say about vampires?"

It made him laugh, then hiss as the pain rippled back. "A myth. We're hung just as we were before the change. You're welcome to look for yourself, but I'm not hurt in that area. It caught me full on the chest."

"We'll preserve your modesty-and my illusions." When she took his hand the amus.e.m.e.nt faded from his face. "I thought we'd killed you. So did he. Now he's suffering."

"Oh, he's suffering, is he? Maybe he'd like to switch places with me."

"You know he would. However you feel or don't about him, he loves you. He can't turn that off, and he hasn't had all the time that you've had to step back from brotherhood." "We stopped being brothers the night I died."

"No, you didn't. And you're deluding yourself if you believe that." She pushed off the bed. "You're as comfortable as I can make you.

I'll come back in an hour and work on you some more."

She gathered her things. Moira slipped out of the room ahead of her, and waited. "What did that to him?"

"I'm not entirely sure."

"You need to be. It's a powerful weapon against his kind. We could use it."

"We weren't controlling it. I don't know that we can."

"If you could," Moira insisted.