"They loved unfortunately in life. Here, they come to know what could have been. Until their souls have made peace with that loss, they are ensnared in the Vale."

We were in Tartarus. I knew this, but until that moment it had eluded my consciousness that I was in the land of the dead. This is only a meditation. I'm not dead.

We emerged from the Vale where the land leveled off and it was immediately warmer. I pulled away somewhat, but not fully-ahead stood several battalions of ground troops. Considering what alarmingly little knowledge my brain had stored about this place, I was at least able to identify the men ahead. "Those who died in battle?"

"Yes. Fallen warriors of whom the bards sing."

They marched in formations that turned and broke apart as smoothly as a marching band at halftime, each group redividing until they were small units of perhaps a dozen each. Then mock skirmishes broke out. The good-natured taunting they shouted at each other made it clear these men were merely having fun.

Hades led me around the right side of the melee. Those closest took notice of our passage and ceased their scuffle to talk among themselves quietly. One was brave enough to march nearer. "Greetings, Lord Hades."

"Greetings, Patroclus."

"May these men and I escort you and the lady across the Plain of Judgment to the Dividing Road?"

Hades nodded.

Patroclus waved his arm. The men of his group and the one they had sparred with jogged to us and formed ranks around us as we walked. As we passed, circling back to return to the road, the other warriors on the field ceased their tumult and fell into silence.

It was an impressive fanfare, but all in all I felt terribly awkward traipsing alongside a god in my filthy socks.

In the distance were two structures close together. The foremost sat where the road we traveled converged with two others, creating a three-way crossroads, a spot sacred to Hecate. The building was a temple of some kind adjacent to an amphitheater. A crowd had gathered before it.

As we neared, my mouth hung open.

The stage of the amphitheater was sheltered by elaborate awnings. Three thrones sat center stage. It reminded me of the layout on the haven's court stage-and that thought was joined by the realization that Menessos, his second-in-command Goliath, and I, would never hold court in the haven again.

That was both a relief and a disappointment.

But the thought could not remain. In awe of what I was seeing, my mind flitted back to the present. The three thrones ahead were occupied with figures I had not thought to see until my death.

I'm not dead.

I could guess the male on the left dressed in dark robes was Radamanthys. The center seat had to belong to Minos. His scarlet robes were like a splash of blood amongst the otherwise gray tone of the setting. Lastly, Aeacus sat on the right in white robes, holding a scepter and bearing keys upon his belt.

Before them the souls of those waiting to be judged were gathered. As I watched, they performed their duty and the souls were sent to either the left or the right. The left-hand lane was a rutted and muddy path with steep inclines and declines, and all of it was edged with spiked and jutting rocks. The right-hand route was a smooth, flower-lined trail that gently dipped only as it ran under the rearmost structure.

The left-hand path was getting far more foot traffic, but Hades guided us off the road and toward the right, which brought the other structure into full view. It was an imposing black marble palace, surrounded by thick marble walls with rounded towers at each corner sprouting up from the tops of enormous gunmetal-gray skulls. The skulls appeared to be solid steel, with the eyes and nose set with the same marble that made up the exterior of the palace and the defensive walls. The cheekbones of these skulls were so sharp, and the jaws so square, that I would have wagered they were modeled after Hades's own features.

The skyscraping towers were each topped with a dozen black-edged silver banners flapping in the wind. The castle itself was a rectangular, multilevel structure with a crenellated roofline. Long banners like those flying from the tower tops draped either side of the main entry to the palace, and likewise, alongside the main gates of the walls.

A cry of pain resounded across the plain behind me and I turned to see a man who had stumbled in the ruts of the left-hand lane and fallen onto the dreadful rock edge. As I watched he slid onto the road and writhed in pain. No one else on that path seemed to notice him as they passed. No one stopped. "Will anyone help him?"

"He must help himself," Hades said.

"He looks hurt. What if he can't?"

"Then, he will lie there forever."

I frowned. "You could help him, couldn't you?"

"I could," he said. "But why?"

My expression did not change.

"You are compassionate, my beauty. I admire that, but aiding him will not help him. Do you understand?"

I shook my head.

"In this place, he must travel of his own power. He must spend his time in Tartarus. He will find his way to Elysium, eventually." After being silent for several paces, he asked, "Do you think me cruel, Persephone?"

When he said my name many of the men escorting us shot quick looks at me. Some started to whisper, and were signaled into silence by others.

"I don't know what to think."

He squeezed my hand tighter. "Perhaps you are thirsty from our long walk. Patroclus, fetch the lady some water."

"From the well, my lord?"

"No," he said with a nonchalant gesture. "From the eastern river. Its flavor is sweeter."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.

Giovanni's knee was bouncing impatiently as he sat in the darkened back of the white van. It was parked near Blood Culture-downtown Cleveland's vampire bar.

Neither of them could be sated by Adam every night, let alone two of them. They needed him to drive them, and to watch over them during the day, so they agreed to send him in to buy blood.

It risked exposing that Giovanni was back in town, but Liyliy had already been seen and they hoped the man's purchase would be linked only to her. To reinforce that idea, after Adam had been inside for a few minutes, Giovanni told Liyliy, "Perhaps you should step outside the van and be seen by observers near the club."

"But I am hideous! The people will-"

"You are not hideous, Liyliy. Your sisters did much to heal you." It was true. Though she was far from perfect, she had regained a level of her former looks that, considering how horrifying she had been, he found acceptable. Her body was still feminine and curvy in the right places. Half of her face was normal, but the eye on the other side was sealed shut with grotesque scar tissue. She was fully aware of it and gave him only a profile view of her best side. He could pretend that the other side was undamaged if she kept it turned away.

Wordlessly, she exited the van and paced impatiently next to it with her arms crossed. The hand with the damaged fingers she kept tucked under.

The hunger was gnawing at him terribly; he imagined it must be worse for her. She'd told him that after she'd delivered the phones to her sisters she had had to fight her way out of the haven.

But she hadn't spoken a word to him about the child.

He hated her for it. And yet he admired her for it as well. Cunning. Like me.

His brain was still rushing over the possibilities. If he had the child in his control, no enemy could ever keep him out. He could organize a loyal team and destroy anyone who opposed him.

First, he would seize the girl and use her to bring the Lustrata to his side. Then he'd gather a group of expert thieves and, without ever being on scene for any crime, obtain limitless wealth to fund his goals. He could use his position near the Excelsior to establish his power base while keeping his identity as the architect of all the mayhem a secret. Eventually, he would remove the Excelsior and become King of the Vampires. He would end this peaceful coexistence political game. He'd use the Lustrata-once she'd become Wolfsbane as the legends foretold-to wipe out the waerewolves. He'd burn the witches and enslave the rest of the humans. All that he'd ever dared to imagine was becoming reality . . . all he needed to do was maintain the moment until he could harvest his new, powerful destiny.

Liyliy's phone rang. Giovanni not only heard the ring as she paced outside the van, but he felt the vibration of his own phone in his pocket. He connected.

"Sister?" Talto asked.

"Yes?"

"I've had a concern. What if the child is not trained in magic? Wouldn't that be terribly problematic?"

"As the foster daughter of the Lustrata I doubt she would be untrained," Liyliy replied.

"Still, should we not consider this before I begin my part of the plan? If she is untrained, she is a danger to everyone around her, unless Ailo can contain her, should that be necessary. Do you think Ailo is capable of that?"

Liyliy was silent.

Giovanni was watching her out the front window of the van, and noticed that she turned toward the club. Adam must be coming out, he reasoned.

"Only Ailo can say for sure," Liyliy said. "Talk about that between the two of you. I trust you both. I'll talk to you again soon."

When she hung up she returned to the rear interior of the van. Adam opened his door, and once he was situated in the driver's seat, he handed the bottles to her. She accepted one for herself, and passed the other to Giovanni. It was warm in his palm.

"You were on the phone. Did your sisters find anything helpful?" he asked.

She unscrewed the cap to her bottle and drank, bringing the bottle to her lips carefully, as if the motion was unnatural.

He wondered if it was because she did not drink from anything but a living person or if it had something to do with her losing an eye.

After she swallowed, she said, "It was Talto checking in with me. Nothing eventful has happened."

Marveling at the ease of her lie and noting the confidence of her tone, he opened his bottle also. However, Giovanni did not drink. He let the aroma of the blood rise under his nose and he savored the smell. Though nothing would ever be as satisfying as drinking straight from a human, the development of a method to both bottle the fluid and later warm it for vampire consumption had made this manner of feeding less atrocious.

He waited, feeling that pitiless hunger swelling within him and letting it filter throughout his body until it felt like his every molecule was quivering in anticipation. He grew hot. He had to have blood in his mouth, now. Right now.

Only when he could not wait another second did he drink.

Serenity in each swallow, he drained the bottle as he had drained victims in centuries past. As he longed to again. As he would when he ruled.

For his greedy intake, Liyliy stared coldly at him.

Lying bitch. He thought harshly of her duplicitous action, not telling him about the child within the haven.

He wiped his mouth and smiled at her.

He wanted her more than ever.

But he could not have her now.

He could not even dare to touch her. She might read his deception and know that he'd bugged the phones he gave her, and he would not risk that.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT.

What are you doing here?" Johnny asked Jacques Lippencot Plympton.

In the meager light from a slightly opened curtain, the diviza's wrinkles deepened as he squinted. "Because I've heard me a rumor."

"What rumor?"

"That our dear Aurelia has joined the ranks of the dead."

Johnny didn't answer. He didn't even move.

Plympton sat forward and rubbed his hands together. "Betcha you're a-wonderin' who told me."

The moment wore on in silence, then Plympton laughed.

"Well, c'mon in, m'boy. We have oodles to discuss . . . and besides, you're a-lettin' the draft in. I'm not fond of your northern November weather."

Johnny reached for the light switch.

Plympton made a sound, one decidedly disapproving note, that stopped him. "Better to leave the lights off."

"Why?"

"You'll have been seen a-entering the hotel. If these lights come on, that'll only confirm that you've a-come to her room while she's out."

Johnny let the door shut behind him but he stayed near it. "Who's watching this room?" As he spoke he sensed around the room. No one else was here. His eyes had already adjusted to the darkness.

"Maybe several people." Plympton shrugged. "Maybe no one."

"Why would anyone watch her room?"

As the diviza sat back in his chair, he was again in the slightly brighter portion of the room. It made his hair seem like a ghostly halo about his head. "Some like to watch lovely women. Some keep an eye on their friends. Some monitor their enemies. Others enjoy a-studying the ways of shit-stirrers like her."

Shifting his weight, Johnny repeated, "Shit-stirrer?"

"She has-had-a knack for trouble. A-finding it. A-making it. A-using it to her gain."

"When I introduced you today I didn't think you knew her."