"Uh, let's take precautions, just in case," Will said. He took a sheet from where it was draped over an old desk and tore a strip from it. Then he stuffed a little ball of it into her mouth and wrapped the rest around her as a gag. He used the drapery cords to bind her hands and feet together and to each other. Hog-tied was the term Sarafina thought applied. They stepped out of the room, Will letting the others go first, then turning the lock on the door from the inside and pulling the door closed behind them.

There were voices, m.u.f.fled and coming from downstairs. Rhiannon and Sarafina both shot Will a worried look, as if he were the natural leader. And Sarafina supposed he was. Will gave a nod, and they crept down the curving staircase, none of them making a sound.

Will had left his walking stick outside the fence when they'd jumped it, Sarafina noticed. It couldn't be easy for him to walk lightly, if unevenly, down the stairs. He was in pain, she knew that. But he had gripped it in that ironfisted will of his, and he wouldn't let go.

She'd honestly never known a man like him.

At the bottom of the stairs there was a large foyer, with two archways leading into other parts of the house. One on the left, one on the right. Rhiannon took the left one. Sarafina locked eyes with Will. "Take the right," he said. "I'm going to find the bas.e.m.e.nt."

She nodded.

He cupped her face, leaned close, brushed her lips with his. "Be careful."

"You're the one who's mortal."

He nodded. "And you're not going to let me forget it, are you?"

"This is no time for joking." She averted her eyes, swallowed hard. "Don't get killed."

"I'll do my best." Nodding, she linked eyes with him one more time, then finally turned away and glided silently through the archway that led to the right. She didn't look back.

The house was dim. It was equipped with gas lamps, though the mortals using the place hadn't bothered to light them. There were few electric lights on, and only night shone in through the large windows. Fortunately, Sarafina thought, her night vision was better than that of Rhiannon's cat.

She wondered about the cat for just a moment. She hoped the creature was wise enough to stay out of sight out there, away from those men. Those rifles, which would only slow a vampire down, and the tranquilizer darts that would incapacitate one, would certainly kill a panther.

Her thoughts ground to a halt when she heard voices. They grew louder as she made her way through the ma.s.sive house, from one room to another, closing in bit by bit, until she located them.

Two men, sitting in a library, with a book open on the table between them. Sarafina stood just outside the door, her back pressed to the wall. There was a mirror on the wall to the men's left, and she could see their reflections in it. They couldn't see hers, though.

She stood there for what seemed like an eternity, and it was killing her to stick to Will's instructions- to be patient and wait until one of them was all alone. She didn't sense kills taking place anywhere else in the house, and she wondered if Rhiannon or Will was facing the same problem-too many of them together in one place.

The hours dragged, and she began to wonder if they could complete this mission and make their escape before sunrise at this rate.

But eventually the men's inane conversation turned to subjects of interest, and she paid attention then.

"This is between us, okay? It doesn't go any further." The second man nodded, and the first went on. "Stiles is keeping something from us. Look at these notes." This was the younger of the two, pale complexion, stocky, strongly built, with a crew cut.

The other one had male pattern baldness and looked Italian. He was older, more sure of himself, wiry-a c.o.c.ky, arrogant man, Rhiannon thought, sizing him up easily. "What's wrong with the notes?"

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you don't see it."

The arrogant one shook his head.

"Stiles has been questioning the girl for hours at a time," Crewcut said. "So what's she been telling him? It's sure as h.e.l.l not all here. He could've gotten this much information from her in the course of a half-hour interview."

The other one shrugged. "What are you, blind? Did you not get a look at that girl or what?"

"I don't-"

The dark one smacked the younger one upside the head with the flat of his hand. "He may be spending hours up there, Jughead, but if he's done nothing but question her, then he's no more human than she is." He smiled meaningfully. "You mean...you think he's been...?"

"Wouldn't you?"

"Jesus, that's sick, Joe."

Sarafina thought "Jughead" might die a bit more mercifully than "Joe." She might even let him live.

"She's an animal," the younger one went on. "That would be like s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g a dog, man. And I don't give a d.a.m.n how pretty she is, she's a G.o.dd.a.m.n demon."

Oh well. So much for mercy.

"Yeah," Joe said. "A demon. A little wild thing. And I intend to take her the first time the boss's back is turned."

"She'd kill you."

He reached into his shirt pocket, pulled out a dart. "Not if she's sedated, she won't. Not completely, though. I want her awake enough to know what's going on. Maybe put up enough fight to make it interesting, you know?" He grinned. "Where's the boss now, anyway?"

"Locked in the lab again. We won't see him for a while."

"Mercer and Caine?"

"In the bas.e.m.e.nt, guarding the prisoners."

"Perfect. I guess my opportunity has arrived. You want to join me? You can have sloppy seconds."

"You're a sick son of a b.i.t.c.h."

Joe shrugged, got to his feet and started for the doorway. Sarafina looked left and right, but there was nowhere to go. No cover. She kept her back to the wall, closed her eyes and imagined herself blending into it, becoming a part of it.

"Mists of magic, cloud his sight," she whispered. "Cloak my form as dark cloaks night."

He walked past her, never noticed her there. Didn't turn around, didn't look back. She kept her eyes closed and her mind open. She would have felt him notice her if he had, but he didn't.

When his footsteps faded, she opened her eyes again and saw his back vanishing down the halls. She paused a moment, thought of Rhiannon, felt her mind's vibrations and tuned into them.

Rhiannon, how is your search progressing?

I've found no one yet. I sense two below, one on this level, but hidden somewhere.

I've had two here with me. They mentioned men named Mercer and Caine. Those would be the two in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Stiles is apparently locked away somewhere. That makes at least five of them.

That's one more than we thought were in the house, Rhiannon's thoughts whispered across the vastness of the mansion. Not that it matters. We can deal. One of mine is on his way up to Amber's room. He intends to drug her and rape her.

Oh, does he now?

Rhiannon didn't need to say more. Sarafina was confident "Joe" was as good as dead. But she was worried. If there were two men in the bas.e.m.e.nt, would Will be able to handle them?

Stop worrying, Rhiannon thought fiercely. I'll go to the bas.e.m.e.nt the moment I take care of the gnat in Amber's room. You focus on Stiles-having dealt with him in the past, and far more recently than I, you may have better luck honing in on his energies.

Sarafina agreed. G.o.d, it ate at her to care as much as she did. And yet the rage rising up in her belly at the thought of one of these men harming Willem Stone told her that she did care. She would tear them apart if they hurt Will.

She turned her own attention back to Crewcut, who was bending over the notebook now, his back to the door.

She slid slowly inside and thought about closing the door behind her to prevent anyone happening along and seeing, but decided against it. If its hinges creaked, the man would have time to shout, and she couldn't have that.

She glanced once behind her and, seeing no one, glided silently up behind him and positioned her hands on either side of his neck, not quite touching. Just as he sensed her presence and started to turn, she closed her hands all at once, without expending much effort at all. His larynx was crushed in her grip as easily as a paper straw would have been. His bones cracked like tiny, brittle twigs. He died instantly.

"Animal, hmm?" she whispered. Looking around the room, she spotted a closet, lifted the man out of his chair and carried him toward it. She dropped him inside and closed the door. Then she turned and walked quietly back out of the room, taking the notebook with her. It might be of interest to Amber and her guardians to know what Stiles had written there- though if "Jughead's" theory were correct, this was less than the entire story.

"Four left," she whispered. "Three, if Rhiannon and Joe have crossed paths yet." She went to search the house for the lab where Stiles had locked himself away.

She and Frank Stiles went way back. She owed him.

Amber was pacing the room, glancing over and over out the barred window at the guards below, wondering just how they were all going to get out of this h.e.l.lhole alive when there were so many of them out there. Footsteps in the hall brought her head around fast, and she jerked the drapes tight, just in case. She hoped to G.o.d it was the others, returning with good news. It had been hours since they'd left her alone. Though she doubted it could be true. She'd spoken to her mother mentally, told her what was happening, but up to now, no one in the bas.e.m.e.nt had seen any sign of the rescuers.

Amber recognized the man who stood outside her door as one of those who had brought her here. She hadn't seen him since then. Her meals were always brought by the female, Kelsey, backed up by the big blond man called Nelson.

The look in this man's eyes as he slid a key into her lock told her Stiles might have had a good reason for that policy. This man was slick and slimy. And she knew what he wanted before he opened the barred door, stepped inside and said, "You do me nice and I'll let you out of here.

Deal?"

"Oh, I'll do you all right," she told him. She moved closer, wondering why no one had warned him that she was strong enough to tear off his arms and beat him to death with them.

He slid his hands around to cup her b.u.t.tocks, and she lifted hers to his neck, to break it. But then she felt the sharp jab and realized the b.a.s.t.a.r.d had come prepared.

Her head swam, and her knees unhinged. She sank, but he caught her under the arms, hauled her to the bed and dropped her across it. Then he straddled her and fumbled with her jeans, unb.u.t.toning and unzipping them.

He'd left the barred door open. The idiot.

Rhiannon appeared in the doorway. Her form was fuzzy, but Amber didn't need to see her to know she was there. And oh, G.o.d, was she p.i.s.sed.

She strode into the room, gripped the man by the hair on the back of his head and hauled him off of Amber.

"Wha-? Who?"

She didn't give him time to get any louder. She put her hands on either side of his head and gave such a violent twist that when the body slid to the floor, the head remained in her hands. A length of skinny pinkish cord still connected the one to the other and blood flowed like a waterfall.

"Oh, gee, I think he lost his head." Amber laughed at her own joke. "s.h.i.t, Aunt Rhi, look at that mess." Her words slurred together.

"b.u.t.ton your jeans and hand me a blanket."

Amber lowered her eyes in the direction of her jeans, but her hands really didn't want to move. She tried to move them, but they only rose and then dropped lazily onto the bed again, which she found freaking hilarious now that the threat was gone.

"h.e.l.l," Rhiannon whispered, dropping the head next to the body on the floor and leaning over the bed. She rolled Amber to one side, then the other, peeling a blanket out from under her.

"He's got the funniest look on his face," Amber said, pointing at the gaping, surprised head.

"He's like, 'Hey, where's my body?'"

Rhiannon rolled her eyes, turning with the blanket, intending to wrap the head and body to reduce the mess, but there was already a significant pool of blood on the floor. It would take too long to clean it up, she decided. She kicked the body and head underneath the bed, wiped her hands on the blanket, and then dropped the blanket to the floor to cover the bloodstains. Then she hauled Amber off the bed and dropped her into a nearby chair.

"I'm going to have to take you with me. You can't stay here like this. Any one of them could come for you, and you're defenseless in this condition."

"Yeah, but I gotta tell you, Rhiannon, my headache is long gone. So is his, I'll bet." "Quiet!"

Amber put her finger to her lips, making an exaggerated shushing sound.

Rhiannon quickly arranged the blankets on the bed to look as if someone were lying asleep beneath them, a trick that might fool an army of kindergartners- but only very stupid ones.

Then she fastened Amber's jeans, gathered the girl into her arms and carried her out of the room, closing and locking the door behind them.

"Where are you taking me?" Amber asked.

"To the bas.e.m.e.nt, I suppose. But only if you're very quiet."

Amber nodded and bit her lip to keep from laughing.

Will found the bas.e.m.e.nt entrance right away. It had been his goal all along to get to the prisoners being held down there. It might have been easier to locate the men he suspected were lurking on the mansion's ground floor, but he had every confidence in Sarafina and Rhiannon.

They could handle themselves. Maybe not against a tranquilizer-armed militia that knew they were coming, but this was a handful of men who were not expecting them.

They would be fine. And they would see to it that Amber was, as well.

He couldn't be so certain about the trio held in the subterranean levels of the place. Being held in the bowels of the earth was far too familiar to him not to twist his guts into knots. And from what Rhiannon had said about the DPI and the men who had served it, it was as likely as not the prisoners had undergone deprivation of heat, food and light, and possibly more active forms of torture.

He felt sick at the thought but couldn't quite shove it to the back of his mind. He'd lived it. It was too real, too recent, and too much a part of his soul.

He opened several doors as he made his way through the house, until one opened onto a set of stairs, descending into darkness.

He figured there was probably a guard down there...somewhere. Stepping onto the topmost stair, he pulled the door closed behind him, making the darkness complete. His bad foot was aching. He should have brought his d.a.m.ned meds with him, but he hadn't planned on taking an extended trip. It took effort and concentration to step down on the foot, evenly, slowly and soundlessly, despite the pain that shot through it more with every ounce of weight.

A stair creaked, just slightly.

Willem went still, motionless, waiting.

When no sound emerged, he took another step. There was no way to tell where the stairs ended and the floor began, other than to just put his foot out there and feel for it. There were more stairs than he would have expected. The cellar was deep.

His eyes began to adjust to the darkness. He could make out shapes by the time he finally reached the bas.e.m.e.nt floor. Turning right, he moved slowly, arms out in front of him.

Somewhere in this direction there was supposed to be an entrance to a secret section of the bas.e.m.e.nt-once a wine rack. He felt only a wall of crumbling stone.

Inching along it, feeling his way, he wondered if he shouldn't just find a light switch and snap it on.

A flare of light came on the heels of that thought, startling him-and then he realized it was the flame of a match or lighter, only a few yards farther along the wall. He watched the flame move in, saw the end of a cigarette glow and the flame go out. If he'd kept going, he would have walked right into the smoker. Thank G.o.d for nicotine addiction.

He shook off the fright and again began moving slowly, steadily, forward. His foot hit something; a pebble or bit of stone skittered across the floor. The glowing tip turned in his direction.

"You there, guards." The voice came from the other side of the wall, though Will realized it must not be a wall where the guard stood. That must be the barred door. But the man had shouted "guards" not "guard."