Dhampir

Chapter Twelve

Magiere crouched outside the huge shorefront warehouse, Leesil and Brenden beside her. The place appeared almost new, constructed of expensive, solid pine boards.

"Why not just burn it?" Leesil whispered.

"I already told you," Brenden answered. "Hundreds of townsfolk make their living from this place in one way or another."

"Yes, but if we kill the owner, won't that bring about a similar result?" Leesil shifted his weight to get a better hold on the squirming dog. "Chap, will you stop that?"

Conversing at all was difficult as Leesil was busy holding onto Chap's muzzle and his wildly struggling body.

"Maybe…" Brenden hesitated. "Maybe not. At least their livelihoods might stay intact for a while, if someone else can step in to keep the place running."

On their way through town, Chap had led them on a wandering course down alleys and side streets, searching the ground with his nose. At the crossing of two roads, he'd lurched back, sneezing as if he'd caught a whiff of something that agitated his senses. He broke into a half-trot, then a full run. All of them were forced to hurry after him, making themselves ridiculously conspicuous. Magiere had cursed herself for not tying a rope around his neck.

Chap ran straight for this warehouse, sniffing the outside floorboards and growling. Welstiel had said to use the dog.

If he was correct, then this indeed was the right place. Heavily armed, they now hid behind a stack of crates, deciding on their next course of action and trying to avoid being seen by dockworkers. The sun was low in the sky.

Magiere listened quietly, wishing Leesil and Brenden would stop arguing and let her think. The warehouse seemed a logical place to begin, especially since it matched Brenden's claim that its owner was the one who attacked her. Chap's reaction seemed to confirm their suspicions.

Part of her agreed with Leesil. They ought to just wait until closing time when the workers went home, then pour oil all over the base and set it on fire. Brenden's concern made sense as well. And what if the nobleman and the dirty urchin weren't even inside? What if Chap were only reacting to old or faint residue from either of them passing this way? She had no idea how the dog was able to track these creatures or what was the extent of his abilities.

Yes, finding their prey was the first obstacle to surpass, but once that was accomplished, she and her small group were prepared for fighting undeads, although none of them had used the word. Welstiel had mentioned Brenden's strength. She assumed he meant physical strength, but now she wasn't so sure. Her red-bearded companion crouched calmly, without fear, holding a crossbow in one hand and balancing himself on the packed ground with the other. He'd soaked all his quarrels in garlic water and tucked six roughly sharpened wooden stakes into his belt alongside dangling skins of water. One stake at the center of his back was longer, more like a half-length spear. She didn't know him at all, but was beginning to believe there was more to him than met the eye.

Leesil was now fairly weighted down by a bag tied to his back across his left shoulder. She'd watched him pack and repack it a few times. He had brought a crossbow, several garlic-soaked quarrels, and a long, wooden box. He also filled four small wine flasks with oil, tightly sealed their stoppers, and placed them in the bag, along with a flint. Then he had fashioned two short torches, which he tied to his back as well. She knew he typically carried various stilettos and other bladed weapons somewhere inside his clothes.

She, on the other hand, traveled light, carrying nothing besides her falchion. Her role in this macabre play was to fight Rashed, while the others dealt with the smaller creature called Ratboy, should both their targets be discovered together.

"How are we going to get in?" she asked finally, surveying the warehouse wall up and down. "We can't exactly walk in the front doors and ask the workers, 'By the way, where do your masters sleep? And I don't fancy trying to enter after dark."

"There's probably a hidden door in the back wall," Leesil answered.

She blinked. "How do you know?"

He hesitated. "Because I've seen this type of construction before. I'll know what to look for."

He'd broken into warehouses before? Magiere's curiosity was piqued, but this was not the time or place. "All right," she said. "Stay behind the crates."

Stacks of wooden crates surrounded this side of the building, which made it possible to move around to the back without being seen. All the workers were inside and few people wandered about on the pier. Once in position, Leesil passed Chap off to Magiere, who grabbed the dog by the scruff of his neck.

They watched as Leesil's hands moved lightly across the base of the warehouse. Brenden seemed confused and leaned forward.

"What are you looking for? There's no door here."

Leesil didn't answer and kept moving his fingers across the wood. Magiere began fidgeting after a while, making it harder to keep the dog from doing the same. Her eyes never left Leesil, though they narrowed suspiciously as she tried to figure out what her partner was doing. Finally, Leesil stopped and remained motionless with his hands firmly against one spot. Then his head tilted slightly to one side and his eyes half closed.

Magiere craned her neck, trying to see what Leesil had found. It was just a blank space of wall. Leesil pulled his hands away, but remained crouched as he reached into his sack and pulled out the long box, glancing up at her in concern.

"Do you trust me?" he asked.

The frank question caught her off guard and she hesitated. "Of course," she answered.

Long, yellow-white hair fell forward across his face as he leaned down.

"Then don't ask me to explain anything about this."

When he opened the box, she regretted agreeing to his request.

A wire loop with small steel handles at each end and two stilettos with blades narrow as knitting needles were the first items she saw. The sight of the wire made her swallow hard. She'd never actually seen such a thing firsthand, but she had once witnessed a criminal executed by strangulation and could guess how the item was used.

The narrow stilettos were another matter. Too slim for any blade-to-blade fighting she could imagine, she couldn't be sure what they would be used for. But looking back to the wire again, she didn't particularly want to know. What she did want to know was how and why Leesil had come by them, and she didn't care for the guesses that flashed through her mind.

The metal of the wire and blades was too pale and bright for common steel. Some other metal had been used, and these were expensive items of a questionable nature no one would buy openly from some weaponsmith. There were only hints of blemishes on the polished blades. Though carefully tended at one time, they had not been taken out for a long while. As much as the items in her companion's possession made Magiere nervous and wary, and even angry, she felt an unexpected wave of anxious concern for Leesil. Pushed aside and hidden, these distasteful possessions had enough meaning for him that he'd kept them shut away for an unknown number of years.

Leesil hesitated, and Magiere saw his back rise and fall in a deep breath before his narrow fingers pressed some hidden spot on the box's inside. He then grabbed the base of the lid near the hinge, and an inner panel folded open to expose a compartment inside the lid itself. Therein, rucked in cloth straps, was an array of shaped wires, long, needle-small hooks, and other similar delicate items crooked, bent, and shaped like a set of tiny tools, the purpose for which she couldn't guess. And again the metal was of a polished silver hue too pale for steel.

"What are those?" Brenden asked.

Leesil ignored him, picking out a thin wire strut that ended in a right-angle turn. The bent end stuck out less than half a fingernail's length and was flattened to be thinner than the longer shaft or handle. He felt carefully around the base of the wooden wall, and then pressed his first finger against a spot that looked exactly like every other place on the vast wall. He attempted to insert the wire directly above his fingernail.

To Magiere's shock, the wire strut's head passed right through the wood, and a panel as wide and tall as her arm slid open.

"Let me go first," Leesil said. "There may be traps."

His body was so tense and face so serious that she hardly recognized him. He knew what he was doing, but somehow to take these actions was a strain on him, as if he forced himself.

Her thoughts stopped and retreated one step. He knew exactly what he was doing. How?

"Leesil…"

When he turned, his slanted, amber eyes pleaded with her.

"Trust me," he said.

He snapped the box shut, slid it back into his sack, and crawled through the secret door. She had little choice but to follow.

Once Brenden crawled down the shaft after Magiere and emerged into a plush sitting room, the first thing he noticed was a candle in the shape of a deep, red rose. Wax roses were hardly what he expected. Leesil was already searching the walls and floor by sight and fingertips. Two oil lamps attached to the wall provided small flames of light. Last summer, if someone told Brenden that he'd soon be in the company of a vampire hunter and a professional thief, tracking down the undead murderers of his sister, he would have thought the speaker quite mad. In fact, it really did sound mad, and that thought made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

And when he first met Magiere, he had despised her, thinking her a selfish and cold woman, whose only interest was in turning a profit from her tavern. His opinion of Magiere had altered a great deal since then. For all her strength and carefully guarded face, he could see pain and uncertainty buried inside. She did not hide in her tavern because of selfishness but something else, and he did not know her well enough to ask what that was. Now, she had overcome this mysterious obstacle and was standing beside him with a sword, ready to fight and kill or die. He admired her courage, and the clean lines of her features and her long black braid were not lost on him either. Strength, beauty, and fighting ability in the same person seemed a rare combination to him.

Then his thoughts turned back to Eliza, his fragile sister, and the smoldering anger in his chest made him focus on their current goal.

And on this room… curved couches upholstered in green velvet, a fine painting of the northern seacoast, braided rugs, and a variety of silver ornaments sitting on polished tables registered in his eyesight all at once. He walked over and picked up a sewing basket. Inside, he found fine needlework. The works-in-progress were more like vivid scenes come to life than mere embroidery. He held a half-finished scrap of muslin that depicted a huge sun surrounded by clouds, setting over the ocean.

Chap was slinking around, sniffing everything and growling softly.

"There's a woman," Brenden said flatly.

"What?" Magiere appeared somewhat confused by his statement.

"We aren't just dealing with the nobleman and that street urchin. And the things in this room are too personal for a servant. Servants don't sit for hours at needlepoint."

Leesil stopped his current task of pulling all the rugs up. "Or maybe one of the men is just artistic with truly fine taste in decor."

Magiere half-smiled at the flippant comment, and Brenden shook his head. He'd figured out by now that Magiere often hid behind a mask of cold hostility, and Leesil behind his humor, caustic or otherwise. He understood Magiere's defenses, but as much as he'd come to like the half-elf, Leesil's shifts between ill-timed humor and unexpected compassion, between rapid wrestling abilities and now burglary were getting to be quite unnerving.

Leesil examined a clearly visible hatch door in the center of the floor.

"What are you waiting for?" Magiere asked.

"This one is different," he said almost to himself. "Whoever put this place together never expected anyone to find that outside entrance, and probably never, used it, so there wasn't a real need for active safeguards." His head rose until his gaze settled upon Magiere. "We have to go down. I don't know any more about this kind of hunting than you, but I'm sure they'll be sleeping somewhere underground."

"What do you mean you don't know?" Brenden asked. He looked at Magiere. "Wasn't this how you earned a living before Miiska?"

The half-elf grinned weakly. "No time to explain. Both of you stand back."

Brenden stepped back and then did so again, until his back was nearly against the wall. Leesil slowly walked around the hatch door as if memorizing every part of it. The blacksmith experienced a wave of discomfort after quite a bit of precious time passed and Leesil still continued his study.

"We need to hurry," Brenden said. "The sun will be down soon."

"Daylight won't help us if we're dead," came Leesil's answer.

A small hole had been cut in one edge of the door to form a simple handle. All one need do was slip his fingers through and lift. Leesil crouched down to dig in his bag, but rather than his box of strange tools, he pulled out a stake.

"Both of you get down behind one of the couches. And hold Chap tight," he said. "I'm going to use a stake to open this slightly. When I do, a poisoned needle is going to jab the point. After that, I'll try to lift the door, but there may be further surprises." He paused. "I once saw a general rig poison gas to a door like this. If I yell, get into the shaft, no matter what."

Brenden looked back and forth between his two companions, who were now staring at each other. It was obvious that Leesil was displaying skills and knowledge previously unknown to Magiere. Her expression was more than a little troubled, but she moved back and hid behind a richly upholstered couch. Brenden did the same, peering around one side to watch.

"Be careful," Magiere called.

"No, really?" Leesil said and gently pushed the stake's point through the opening. A loud click followed.

"Got the needle," he said, and then he flattened himself low to the floor, one leg folded underneath, presumably so he could dive aside if need be. "Keep your heads down."

He levered the stake to lift the door's edge, then gave a quick, sharp thrust and pulled back as the hatch flipped open.

A crack sounded out twice from the opening. Well shielded behind the couch, both Brenden and Magiere still ducked quickly in reflex as two crossbow quarrels shot out. The first passed over Leesil, aimed where a person would lean down to pull the door open. The other now protruded from the front of the couch behind which Brenden and Magiere hid. Brenden peered at it over the top of the couch.

"Wait," Leesil said, holding one hand up. "I'm not sure that's everything." He disappeared down the hole.

Magiere didn't do as he bid, but rather crawled around the couch and over to the opening, carefully peeking over the edge. "What are you doing?"

"Just making sure." Leesil's voice was mute and dull coming from somewhere below. "I think you can come down now."

Brenden joined Magiere, contemplating how to lower Chap, but the dog solved his problem by jumping through and landing next to Leesil. Magiere followed, and the blacksmith went last.

He found himself standing in a narrow tunnel. Always interested in devices and gadgets, he examined the two crossbows sitting in iron supports and carefully aimed upward to the opening.

"It's a simple trick really," Leesil said. "You just mount them solidly, load them up, and then run a wire or string from the door to the firing mechanisms."

"If you two have finished admiring these would-be murder weapons," Magiere interjected in a low, irritated voice, "we need to move on. Light a torch."

Edwan arrived back at the tunnels under the warehouse in a state of agitation. He had listened to every word that passed between the hunter and the stranger who was staying in the cellar rooms of The Velvet Rose. Although he did not fully understand what had taken place, Edwan did comprehend that this hunter was more dangerous than Rashed would acknowledge and that the stranger knew many things about the undead. Also, this stranger was urging the hunter to hunt. Edwan thought back to the night Magiere visited the death place of the blacksmith's sister. The stranger had appeared and talked to her. He called her a dhampir. How had he put it…? "Someone gifted to kill the dead." The hunter had not been interested in Teesha or Rashed before that night. Bits of thoughts and connections passed through Edwan's scattered mind. He willed himself to think.

What if this stranger was somehow guiding the hunter's movements? She seemed so proud, yet she sought his guidance.

Edwan knew he must tell Teesha. She would understand what all the words meant-at least the words he could remember. She would know what to do.

He planned on flitting straight to her coffin when he sensed a presence and hesitated… no, he sensed more than one presence. Moving on instinct, he floated down a tunnel and came upon the sight of the hunter, her half-elf, the blacksmith, and the dog. They carried torches and weapons and were making their way straight toward the caves where Teesha and Rashed and Ratboy slept. Edwan felt shock and then chastised himself. Of course, they would be here. Did the stranger not tell her to hunt and to use her dog?

Some time ago, Edwan had begged Teesha to move her coffin away from Rashed's, so that he might have a brief span of privacy with her as she retired or when she arose. And she had agreed. Now, he hurried to her. With a bright flash, he appeared visibly in the center of her private underground chamber, frustrated that he lacked the ability to open the lid of her coffin.

"My dear," he said aloud. "You must wake up."

Edwan tried to push his consciousness back to when he'd been alive and could have at least tried to protect her. What would he have done? His thoughts had so long been trapped between the mortal and spirit world, he found it difficult to focus on anything more than the specific details of the moment at hand, let alone a time long gone.

"Teesha." He attempted using his thoughts this time, allowing his noncorporeal form to pass through the smooth lid of her coffin so that he could see her sleeping face. "Wake up."

Her eyes remained closed like a sweet child lost in sleep. Dusk was just beginning. She would awaken soon on her own, but he needed her to rise now.

Edwan drew back out of the chamber into the stone and packed-earth tunnels that Rashed had paid twelve men to dig before the warehouse was built. The job took nearly a year. The men were hired from out of town, and no one ever knew what became of them after they finished their task. The ghost tried desperately to remember any words floating about at that past time. Some areas needed wooden supports-he recalled those words-and the warrior designed a way for one of those places to cave in if intruders passed. Where was that place?

Rapid movement being one of the few gifts left to him, he concentrated upon his presence and vanished.

Leesil kept his equipment bag slung over one shoulder. He held a short torch out in front of him, but wanted his other hand completely free. Chap walked directly behind him, then Magiere, and Brenden brought up the rear, carrying the other torch. He warned both of them not to touch anything, even the walls, unless he told them it was safe.

It had been a long time since he had a reason to locate a sleeping target, and usually the job called for climbing up, not down. Keeping his attention on the task at hand, he moved slowly, examining the floor, walls, and ceiling carefully before stepping forward. He ignored Brenden's continued comments about the need for haste.

He also avoided speaking to or looking at Magiere, which wasn't difficult at this point. Their torches provided the only light source so far down and, after all, he was quite busy.

Chap growled softly, and his eyes grew brighter and even more transparent than usual.

"We're close," Magiere said. "I think."

None of them knew anything about Chap's abilities, but Leesil thought her comment made sense. He cast a glance over his shoulder at her and, in the scant light, something else caught his attention. With all the crawling about, her amulets had fallen out from inside her shirt and hung in plain sight about her neck. The topaz stone was glowing.

"Look," he said, pointing.

She glanced down and touched it in mild wonder. "It's not any warmer, just glowing."

Chap whined.

"Has it ever glowed before?" Leesil asked.

"When I fought that villager at the Vudrask River and…" She trailed off, and their eyes locked.

"Maybe you better leave it out," he said.

"We need to hurry," Brenden said in clear frustration.

The tunnel was small-barely large enough to stand in-and crudely dug. Leesil could see nothing except the walls, his feet, and a small distance ahead.

"How did they dig this tunnel under the warehouse?" Magiere asked.

"It's been a while, but I remember the construction seemed to take a long time," Brenden answered. "Perhaps the tunnel was created first and the warehouse built on top of it?"

That sounded plausible. Leesil saw overhead boards coming up.

"There are wooden supports here," he said. "Be careful passing through."

A small glint low to the floor caught his attention. He stopped, holding up a hand for the others to do the same, and crouched down for a closer look. A small wire ran across the tunnel a hand's breadth above the floor.

"Trip wire," he said. "If you look, you'll see it. Step carefully."

Such things were more of a nuisance to Leesil than an actual danger. His sharp gaze missed nothing, and he'd found his old ways coming back to him naturally, even after many years of trying to forget them. He turned to make sure Chap didn't trip the wire, when a glowing light appeared before him.

Colors solidified in the space of a heartbeat.

Leesil was face-to-face with a beheaded man standing close enough to touch him. The dead man's partially severed head lay at an angle on one shoulder with the stump of his open, bleeding throat exposed. His torso turned sharply, swinging his head in toward Leesil's face as the lips curled into a snarl.

Leesil lurched away from the terrifying sight. But he remembered the trip wire.

His first step was high enough to clear the wire, but his footing slipped as it came down. His trailing foot's heel snagged the wire as he stumbled backward. He instinctively covered his head with his arms."

Two boards pulled loose from above, one of them striking him flatsided as it fell. The roof above him exploded as roots and churning earth gained a life of their own. He tried to see if Magiere was far enough back to escape being buried, but he didn't have time. The pattering dirt and stone falling on him suddenly became a great weight. He was slammed downward, striking the ground with crushing force.

Magiere saw Leesil turn in her direction, then stumble backward down the tunnel, an expression of horror on his face, as if he'd seen something terrible. Almost instantly an avalanche of wood, rock, and sandy soil poured from the tunnel ceiling.

"Leesil!" she screamed, thrusting a hand out to grab him, but Brenden snatched her waist from behind to pull her back.

"No, don't!" he shouted. "It's too late."

A cloud of dust enveloped them both, momentarily blinding Magiere.

As rapidly as it had started, the cave-in stopped. Heavy dust still rolled around them in the air, but Magiere could see Chap's tail and haunches and hear him whining. She wiped grime from her eyes with the back of her hand and saw the dog was already digging frantically.

"Get the dog back and take my torch," Brenden ordered.

There was not enough room in the small tunnel for two people to take action. Brenden was potentially the strongest. Magiere grabbed Chap's haunches and pulled hard and fast.

"Get back, Chap!"

Chap snarled at her viciously, either from her roughness or being stopped in his own desperate labor. Holding the dog, she took the torch from Brenden, who pushed past and began jerking and throwing boards to either side as best he could.

And then, Magiere could do nothing but stand and watch.

She hated having no control. At times, she had cursed the responsibilities that she often placed upon herself. But standing in the tunnel, watching Brenden wildly dig for Leesil, she realized that helpless spectators were worse off than those taking action. Spectators had time to think.

What if Leesil died? What good would fighting for a home and a business be if she had no one to share plans and daily events with? Leesil was the only person with whom she'd ever been able to spend immeasurable amounts of time. What did that say about her? What if he died?

She fought the urge to drop the torch, push Brenden aside and start digging herself. Instead, she held Chap back, not sure if the quiver she felt was in her own body or the vibration of the growling whine coming from the dog. With her other hand, she tried to hold the torch out to the side, giving Brenden light and allowing her to see what was happening.

The tunnel was not completely closed. Debris and earth only blocked it about halfway up. The problem was that Brenden had nowhere to throw the debris he removed. His red-tinged face glistened with exertion, but he never slowed his pace.

"Can you see him?" Magiere asked.

"No, I'm not… wait, a foot!"

"Pull! Pull him out."

She stepped back quickly, dragging Chap with her. Brenden pulled hard, almost backing into her, and a small cloud of dust rose up around them. The dust and her own fear made it seem as if Brenden had created the half-elf from nothing and pulled him into existence.

Now it was her turn. Pressing her back to the wall, she slipped around Brenden and handed him the torch so that she could kneel beside Leesil, putting her ear to his chest, then his mouth.

"He's not breathing."

Lying there, Leesil looked thinner than ever. His whole body was a single color of earth except where blood from a cut or scrape on face or hand darkened the grime clinging to him. Once, she'd seen her Aunt Bieja save a child, who had fallen into the well, by blowing air into the child's mouth.

Turning her head away from the dust, Magiere took in a deep breath. She pinched Leesil's narrow nose closed with two fingers, sealed his mouth with her own, and breathed out. His chest rose once and then fell still again.

"What are you doing?" Brenden shouted, grabbing her shoulder.

She swung back and struck his arm off of her and repeated her act again. And again. Desperation would not allow her to stop. The fifth time she made his chest rise, he coughed back into her mouth.

Magiere pulled quickly away, watching his face. "Leesil?"

He lay there motionless. Then he coughed again, dust rising out of his mouth, followed by an audible gasp as he sucked in air. She slumped over him, and relief washed through her.

"Here," Brenden said, and held out a water skin he pulled from his belt. "Try to wash out his throat, and then we'll see if any bones are broken."

Before Magiere could take the water skin, Leesil reached out and grabbed it himself. He took a mouthful, rolled to his side, and spit the water out. Then he tried to sit up.

"I'm all right," he said hoarsely. He blinked at the dirt still in his eyes. "Where's the ghost? Is it gone?"

"What ghost?" Magiere asked. Then she ordered him, "Be still." Using her fingers, she quickly probed his hands, arms, and legs. "I don't think he's injured."

"I'm fine," Leesil rambled on. "Where's the damn ghost! I thought he was real… but he couldn't be… head was cut off."

Magiere looked back at Brenden. "We have to turn back. He's hallucinating."

"No!" Leesil snapped. "I'm not hallucinating. Oh, forget that. It's too late. If we quit now, they'll know we've been here. How safe will we be at home tonight? How safe will Rose and Caleb be? We have to finish this."

He was right, and Magiere knew it, but her first instinct was still to get him out of this place. She untucked her shirt-tail, ripped a piece off, and then poured water from the flask to clean his face and eyes. At first he protested, pushing her hands away, but when she refused to give up, he sat there and let her finish. Small cuts and abrasions marred his tan skin, but none of them looked serious.

"You were lucky," she said.

"The gods watch over fools," he answered, trying to smile.

"Oh, shut up," Magiere snapped, all her panic released in irritation at one of his typically inappropriate remarks.

Brenden shook his head. Magiere knew he thought them both quite odd. She didn't blame him.

"All right, now what?" she asked her partner.

Leesil looked back over his shoulder at the mound of debris choking off half the tunnel's space.

"We'll have to crawl; drag our equipment through," he answered. "I think we are getting very close. That ghost must be some sort of guardian."

He began checking his bag for any broken or ruined equipment. One of the flasks of oil had burst, making the others and his odd box of weapons slippery to handle. Only a small amount soiled his crossbow. He wiped the bow and other items off as best he could with the scrap of Magiere's shirt.

"I lost the torch," he said. "We'll have to make do with just one."

For someone who had almost died, his calm, competent manner both reassured and annoyed Magiere.

"You crawl through and Brenden can hand it to you," he added. "But don't move down the tunnel until I'm there ahead of you."

"Wait," Brenden said. "Stand still, Magiere. I brought something for you." He removed a small flask from the belt at his waist. "Hold out your arms."

"What is that?" she asked.

"Garlic water," he answered. "I took it from your kitchen. At close quarters, it might help protect you, or at least make those creatures think twice about grappling with you."

He poured the garlic water all over her arms, shoulders, and back. She found his foresight impressive, but said nothing until he finished.

"Ready?" she asked.

He nodded.

One by one, they crawled through the open space over the cave-in and again began their trek down the tunnel. Perhaps it was her imagination, but Magiere believed Leesil picked up the pace, and although he did check for traps, his examinations were brief.

"I can see an opening," he said.

A second wave of relief passed through Magiere as they stepped from the tunnel into an underground cavern and once again could stand side by side.

"Over there," Leesil said, pointing across the cavern.

"What?" Brenden asked.

Leesil moved forward, holding the torch out. He glanced back.

"Coffins."

Edwan hovered invisibly over Rashed's coffin, torn between joy and frustration. He'd failed in his one chance to make the hunters kill themselves, and now he believed that appearing to them again would only decrease his chance at future shock tactics.

But they had seen the warrior and Ratboy's coffins first, not Teesha's. Let the two of them fight these hunters; he cared nothing for them. For the moment, his Teesha was safe.

He focused on his own form again and transported to his beloved's tiny cavern.

"Wake up, my sweet," he whispered. "Please."

This time, she stirred.