I shivered; the room where I lay a prisoner had grown icy cold. My left arm felt bruised where the form had touched it. I wished I could move to rub some life back into the spot. I clenched my fingers and felt something. In my right hand, I still held Mab’s bloodstone.

Maybe I could try again.

And I did try, but I couldn’t settle back into sleep. As soon as my mind started to descend into my dreamscape, the form was back, surrounding me, cutting off air and light, pulling me in. Again and again, I jolted awake.

It was useless. I gave up and lay shivering in the darkness.

The door opened. Two Old Ones came in, their icy auras chilling the room even more. One of them bent over me, eyeballs rolling in the lidless sockets, fangs stopping just short of my face. His mouth stretched in a ghastly smile. Then they positioned themselves at the head and the foot of the table that held me and silently wheeled me out into a hallway. Harsh fluorescent lights blinded me; I closed my eyes against them, then blinked to get my vision back.

They steered me into a large room. As far as I could tell, there were no windows. What I could see of the walls were white-painted concrete blocks. Above me hung stained, cheaplooking ceiling panels. Then I could see myself, as the Old Ones wheeled me beneath a flat mirror that took up the space of two ceiling tiles.

I wore a hospital gown, its ties loosely closed in the front. Thick leather straps, fastened with buckles, held my ankles and legs, my wrists and arms, my waist and chest—even my forehead—tying me down more thoroughly than Gulliver among the Lilliputians. The table stopped. The mirror showed me another table right beside me. On that table, under a white sheet, lay Pryce.

This time, I had no doubt it was him. I recognized his pale skin and black hair, but in the month since we’d done battle, he’d gotten thin. His eyes were closed, the skin under them sunken. His tongue protruded slightly. Although the room was freezing and he was covered by a thin cotton sheet, he didn’t shiver. His only movement was the slow, even rise and fall of his chest. If not for that, I would’ve thought I lay next to a corpse.

“Hello.” Myrddin’s voice was cheerful as his face appeared above me. His foul breath washed over me, and I could see the back of his head in the mirror. “And soon, good-bye. The sedative should be working its way out of your system now. Don’t try shifting your shape; I can prevent it. Power over animals is one of my skills.”

I double-checked in the mirror; the IV was gone. “Then why did you drug me?”

“Convenience. I had preparations to make. You don’t think I’d trust these backstabbing Old Ones or their vampire puppets to make them for me.”

He turned to Pryce, put a hand on his shoulder. “My only son. Do you know how difficult it is for my kind to reproduce? This boy is my most prized possession. I’ve followed him with interest over the years, of course, to the extent I could. But I was . . . away. And scrying is so passive. I couldn’t help him, guide him, mold him as I wanted to.”

Myrddin ran the back of his hand along Pryce’s cheek. “Now that I’m back, we’ll be gods together, my boy and I,” he murmured. Then he raised his voice. “You hear that, Colwyn? Gods! True gods, not skulking shadow-dwellers like you desiccated fossils.”

I guessed that Colwyn was one of the Old Ones who’d rolled me in here. He didn’t reply to Myrddin’s taunt.

Myrddin returned his attention to me. “And how is your . . . aunt, I believe she calls herself?”

His question took me by surprise. “Are you talking about Mab?”

“Mab. Yes, of course. So many names, one loses track over the years. At any rate, how is she?”

“None of your business.”

“You think not? But your present predicament is my business, seeing as it’s my doing, and Mab has everything to do with that. You see, I don’t need your life force in particular to revive my son, although as I said, I’m interested to see whether the shapeshifting ability transfers. But a human would do just as well. Further, the process I’m going to subject you to is excruciatingly painful.” He smiled, like this was good news. “It doesn’t have to be. Your death could be quick and clean like the others’. Yet I’m putting in the effort to make it slow and agonizing because of your aunt.”

He leaned over me, his stinking breath hot on my face. His eyes searched mine, looking for a reaction. I wouldn’t give him one; I closed my eyes.

“Years ago, she did me an evil,” he said, close to my ear. “And evil must be repaid with evil, don’t you agree? Your ‘Mab’ deprived me of my family and made me suffer. So I must do the same to her. Nothing personal, my girl. Simply redressing the balance—or making a start, at least.”

He must have straightened, because when he spoke again his voice was more distant. “It’s a pity the Old Ones are so camera-shy. Won’t allow them in the place.” I opened my eyes to see what he was doing. He held a tangle of narrow plastic tubing. He pulled a tube from the mass and coiled it as he spoke. “Colwyn—he fancies himself chieftain of the Old Ones, you know—Colwyn is so unreasonable. I’d love to record this procedure. For science, of course, but also as a gift to your aunt. The Old Ones think they’re eternal, but really they’re quite backwards.” He looked to his right. “Yes, you. I’m talking about you.” He went back to coiling. “Colwyn and I have never trusted each other, so it’s rather awkward to find ourselves in a position where each requires the other’s assistance. I said I’d been away. Colwyn brought me back. He reunited me with my son and is providing support—locations, equipment, minions—so I can revive Pryce. In return, I’ll give him what he wants.”

“What’s that?”

“What else? The secret to eternal life. I have it; he doesn’t. Hah!” He spat that last word off to the side, toward Colwyn. “But the bastard has tried to tilt the scales in his own favor. You see, he released me from . . .” Myrddin’s eye twitched. “From where I was. But only for a limited time. I have ten days of freedom before his spell wears off and I’m returned to that horrible place—unless I share my secret with him. But I won’t share the secret until Pryce is restored, and Colwyn won’t remove the time limit until I give him what he wants. And so we find ourselves at a stalemate.” He giggled. “At least until one of us can figure out how to betray the other. Eh, Colwyn?”

Myrddin dropped the last coil on Pryce’s table. He reached toward me and held open my right eyelid, shining a light into my eye. Then he repeated the process with my left eye. He leaned forward and whispered, “Colwyn thinks he’s in charge, but he doesn’t command me. There’s recording equipment hidden in the mirror above you. You will scream nicely for it, won’t you? Your aunt will want to know exactly what happened to her favorite niece, after all.”

No screaming, I promised myself. No matter how bad things got. If Myrddin sent Mab a video of my last moments, she’d see that I died bravely.

He straightened and spoke in a slightly-too-loud voice. “I do believe you’re ready. Well, you may not be, I’ll grant you that, my girl.” Giggle, giggle. “But the sedative has worn off enough to proceed.”

I didn’t believe Myrddin could stop me from shifting without the drug. If its effects had diminished, it was time to call the wizard’s bluff and change into something powerful, angry, and deadly. I closed my eyes. The image of a grizzly formed in my mind—reared up, roaring, claws raised—and I poured all of myself into it. The image held. Energy buzzed through me. My limbs burned and twitched as the change began. I pushed more energy into it.

A hand settled on my forehead. It soaked up the energy like a sponge. I still held the grizzly’s image in my mind, as vivid as if it stood before me, but my body remained unchanged.

“No,” said Myrddin simply. He held his hand in place as the energy fizzled. I struggled, tugging on the energy, trying to pull it back from him, but I couldn’t do it. He absorbed it all.

When there wasn’t a spark left, the pressure of Myrddin’s hand left my forehead. “It’s time,” he said. “Bring in the Reaper.”

I’ll have to tell Daniel he was right, I thought, then laughed hysterically because I’d never get a chance to tell Daniel—or anyone—anything ever again.

The Reaper’s face was too deep inside the robe’s hood for me to make out his features. A distant cawing sounded. I opened my senses to the demon plane and was nearly deafened by the raucous sound of hundreds of crows. In the demon plane, a huge beak protruded from the Reaper’s hood and ghostly black wings sprouted from his back. He was thoroughly possessed by the Morfran.

Sharp pain yanked me back into the human world. The Reaper had unfastened the ties at the front of my gown and was dragging the point of his sickle along my breastbone, tearing my flesh with the blade.

I gasped. But I clenched my teeth tightly before the pain tore a scream from my throat. I would not scream.

The Reaper cut further, carving symbols into my skin. In the mirror, all I could see was his robed back. I didn’t know what the symbols were; all I knew was how much I hurt.

“Enough.” Myrddin put a hand on the Reaper’s arm. “That will do. This one is different.”

A high-pitched whine issued from the Reaper’s hood. The sickle sliced toward my throat.

Myrddin’s hand stopped its descent. A few muttered words from the wizard, and the Reaper was lifted from his feet. Two seconds later, a grunt and cry sounded as he hit a wall.

“Keep him back,” Myrddin said. “What? No, I don’t need the jar. Didn’t you hear me? This one is different.” Working quickly and silently, he picked up a length of tubing and fitted it with a long, thin, wicked-looking needle. Then he moved between me and Pryce, and I couldn’t see what he was doing. The mirror showed my chest as a mass of blood—so much blood I couldn’t make out whatever patterns the Reaper had sliced into me. Myrddin turned back to me, needle in hand. The tubing trailed behind, somehow connected to Pryce. Myrddin used the needle to trace the symbols the Reaper had carved into my flesh. I felt every inch. He paused directly over my heart.

“The heart,” Myrddin said, “is the center of a person’s life force.” He pushed. The pain sharpened. No, he couldn’t be—but he was. He didn’t stop. The needle slid into my heart and stayed there. My heartbeat went crazy, the muscle trying to push out the invader. “When the heart stops, so does life. Of course, I don’t want you to die at once, so I’ve spelled the probe to minimize its physical damage. What we’re going for here is the slow, painful draining of every last ounce of your life force.”

It hurt. God, how it hurt. Like nothing I’d ever felt before. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I gritted my teeth against my agony. I would not scream. I would not think about the needle thrust deep into my heart.

“Like the blood,” Myrddin continued, “the life force circulates through the body. Chi, prana, élan vital—call it what you will. Every culture expresses the concept in some form. Now, these acupuncture needles”—he showed me a handful of fine needles with colored ends—“will be inserted at strategic points to slow down the flow of your life force. A sort of reverse acupuncture, if you will.” He stuck a needle in my arm, another above my eyebrow. “The aim being, of course, to drag your life force from you. I want you to feel the wrench of that chi leaving every cell of your body.”

He kept going, turning me into a pincushion. If I’d thought I hurt before, I didn’t even know what pain was. Each needle magnified the agony, spread it throughout my body. It felt like my soul was being slowly pulled out by the roots.

“Now.” Myrddin slapped my cheek to make me look at him. He showed me two thin tubes, each split into a Y shape with a needle at the branch of each Y. “They say, I believe, that the eyes are the windows to the soul. And since you’re donating your soul to my son, that will be the final touch.”

Oh, God. Not my eyes. My heart thumped wildly around the invading probe. I snapped my eyes shut, but his fingers forced the right lid open. I strained at the straps that held me immobile. I rolled my eyes in crazy, random directions.

And I screamed. I screamed and screamed because there was no other way to express the pain and horror.

“Hold still, damn it all!” Myrddin shouted. “I’d prefer not to blind you.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have cared. Maybe blindness would have been a mercy. But even now, some deep, primal part of me recoiled at the thought of losing my sight. I stopped screaming, stopped rolling my eyes. I lay still and watched the first needle descend.

Something clattered to the floor.

Myrddin froze. He took his hand from my eye, put down the needle, and bent toward the floor.

“Where did you get this?” he asked sharply. “You didn’t have it when they brought you here.”

I was shaking so badly that I couldn’t focus on the object he held in front of my face.

“This bloodstone!” he shouted. “How did it come to be in your hand?”

If I could have had one wish right then, it would have been the freedom to turn my head away from him. I said nothing.

Pain coursed through me with each heartbeat.

Myrddin swore. His footsteps crossed the room. The door opened. “Battle positions!” he shouted.

Seconds later, he was back at my table. He yanked the probe from my heart. I groaned. It felt like he’d pulled the heart from my body with it. “We’ll have to finish this later,” he said, ripping needles from my flesh. Something cool passed over my chest, stinging my skin. Myrddin tossed a bloodsoaked cloth aside, then refastened the front of my gown. “I must get you out of here before Mab arrives.” He cackled, and an ugly light shone in his eyes. “Perhaps Mab herself will be number four—or five! Yes, five. What a pleasure that would be, for her to see my son open his eyes to the world just as hers close forever. A pleasure for me, that is, not for that bitch.”

He turned toward Pryce and I couldn’t see what he was doing, then he stood between us, coiling the tube whose needle had pierced my heart. The tube, spattered with blood, glowed with a silvery light.

The pain receded, leaving me weak and light-headed. My ears buzzed. Myrddin’s movements, as I watched him in the overhead mirror, were slow and fluid, like in an underwater ballet.

“I need attendants,” Myrddin muttered. “Where the devil did Colwyn go?”

He stalked back toward the door. “Colwyn, whe—” The word ended in a grunt as the door banged open and Kane called my name.

Kane? Here? How had he found me? This had to be a hallucination, my dying mind conjuring up comforting images where everything could still be all right. Where escape and rescue were possible.

Kane’s face hovered over mine. His gray eyes burned with fury and concern and something else.

“Are you real?” My voice came out in a croak.

The brush of his lips on mine felt real.

A commotion burst out near the door. Kane looked up, scowled, raised a pistol. He fired. Then something knocked him backward and I couldn’t see him anymore.

A blast—gunshot? energy?—broke the mirror over my head. I closed my eyes as shards rained down, nicking and slicing my skin.

“Hello, Mab.” Myrddin’s voice sounded thick. Was he hurting? “Funny name you’ve chosen for yourself this time around.”

“Myrddin Wyllt, you will not harm my niece.” Mab sounded strong, certain. Now I knew I was hallucinating, because my aunt was two thousand miles away. Yet I felt a certain peace. I was glad my life was ending this way, in a fantasy of my aunt stepping in to protect me. And Kane. I always knew he’d come for me if he could. Still, I wished it had been real. His lips had felt so nice, so warm.

Where was Kane? If I was hallucinating, I wanted to imagine him beside me.

Fighting noises erupted from the other side of the room. It didn’t sound like a sword fight. More like they were throwing bombs at each other. Energy blasted out again and again. Then Myrddin’s cackle rang out. “Colwyn, you lazy corpse. It’s about time you—”

A furious snarl chilled me down to my fingertips. It was a primal, animal sound. Had Mab shifted to fight the Old Ones? Maybe I could help her. I concentrated, again summoning the grizzly bear image. But I couldn’t gather the energy. I was too weak.

This was my hallucination, damn it. You’d think it would let me escape from the straps that held me down. Then I could at least imagine my death as an honorable one, fighting beside my aunt.

Shouts. Snarls. Running footsteps. Cursing. The thud and grunt of impact. More shouts—Mab’s voice among them. “Get Pryce!” she shouted. “Kill him!” So she hadn’t shifted. Yet the sounds of an attacking animal cut through the chaos. Something slammed into the table beside mine, shaking it. “No!” Myrddin shouted. A yelp of pain.

A slap stung my cheek and I opened my eyes. Myrddin stood over me. Blood smeared one side of his face and matted his hair. He was panting, slumped over. “Another time, my girl,” he said to me, and winked. Then he disappeared.

“Victory, child, are you all right?” Mab’s face appeared above me. Not huge and transparent, as she’d been in my dreamscape, but real flesh. Worry lines sharpened her gaze as her eyes roved over my face. She brushed glass off me. Her fingers loosened the strap across my forehead. She flung it aside and smoothed a warm hand over my icy skin.

I lifted my head, just because I could. The empty room looked like a battle zone. Scorch marks blackened the walls. Chairs and tables were scattered around like discarded toys. Something smoldered in a corner. I looked to my right. The table that had been next to me, the one that held Pryce, was gone.

Mab had unbuckled the strap across my chest and was working on the one that secured my right wrist. I was still shaking, and dizziness made the room spin. Weak, I let my head fall back.

“Myrddin has gone into the demon plane and taken Pryce with him,” Mab said. “He knows I won’t follow him there, not with you like this.” She paused and laid her cheek against my forehead. I could feel her trembling. “Oh, Vicky, are you all right?”

“I . . . I can’t stop shivering.” I felt like I’d never be warm again. Mab put both her hands on my face, and I soaked in their warmth. “I thought I was hallucinating. Am I?”

She went back to work, unfastening the strap. She picked up my hand, bending the elbow and massaging my skin. “No, child. This is real. I’m really here. After you’re safe and rested, I’ll explain all.”

“But I thought Kane was here, too.”

“And so he was.”

Was? I struggled to sit up through the nausea and dizziness. I snatched away my free hand and pulled at the strap across my waist. “‘Was,’ Mab? Where is he?”

She smiled grimly as she unbuckled the waist strap. “The last I saw, he was in the hallway, making some Old Ones run in a most undignified manner.” She tilted her head, listening. “I believe he’s coming back. Here, child, you can sit up. I’ll help you. Gently, now.”

She got her arms around me and lifted. The room tilted, and I grabbed at her to keep from falling. I closed my eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

Someone touched my leg, and I breathed in the scent of moonlit pine forest. Kane. His scent calmed me. I opened my eyes to see his gray ones.

In the face of a massive wolf.

Kane was in wolf form.

Mab gripped my shoulders. I looked at her, confused. The full moon was weeks away. “How long have I been here? Is the moon—?”

She shook her head. “Waning gibbous. Myrddin had you only for a few hours.”

“So how . . . ?” Kane nuzzled my neck. I leaned into him and stroked his fur. It was thick and coarse, but soft. He didn’t smell like a wolf. He smelled like Kane.

“Myrddin did it. He has some power over animals,” Mab said, but didn’t elaborate. “Most likely Mr. Kane’s human form will return with the dawn.”

Most likely. I didn’t like the sound of that. But I put my arms around Kane’s neck and buried my face in his warm ruff. He’d come for me. That was all that mattered. Whatever else we had to face, we’d face it together.