'Let me see your Gray ring.'
She held out her right hand.
Jaenelle brushed her Black ring against Surreal's Gray.
Surreal felt a psychic thread shoot out of the rings as they made contact, felt the Green Web pull at her.
'There,' Jaenelle gasped. 'As soon as you launch yourself, the thread will reel you into the Green Web. Take the beacon web with you. Destroy it completely as soon as you can.'
Daemon stirred, moaned softly.
'What about you?' Surreal asked.
Jaenelle shook her head. 'It doesn't matter. I won't be coming back. I'll hold the guards long enough to give you a head start.'
Jaenelle opened Daemon's tattered shirt. Taking Surreal's right hand, she pricked the middle finger and pressed it against Daemon's chest while she murmured words in a language Surreal didn't know.
'This binding spell will keep him with you until he's out of the Twisted Kingdom.' Jaenelle faded, came back. 'One last thing.'
Surreal took the gold coin that hovered in the air. On one side was an elaborate S. On the other side were the words 'Dhemlan Kaeleer.'
'That's a mark of safe passage,' Jaenelle said, straining to get the words out. 'If you ever come to Kaeleer, show it to whomever you first meet and tell them you're expected at the Hall in Dhemlan. It guarantees you a safe escort.'
Surreal vanished the coin and the small beacon web.
Daemon rolled onto his side and opened his eyes.
Jaenelle floated backward until she faded into the hedge. *Go quickly, Surreal. May the Darkness embrace you.*
Swearing quietly, Surreal tugged Daemon to his feet. He stared at her with simpleminded bewilderment. She pulled his left arm over her shoulders and winced as she tightened her right arm around his waist.
Taking a deep breath, she let the psychic thread reel them through the Darkness until she caught the Green Wind and headed north.
The hiding place was ready and waiting.
Before the night when she'd drunkenly broken the warm friendship that had existed between them, Daemon had told her about two people: Lord Marcus, the man of business who took care of Daemon's very discreet investments, and Manny.
Shortly after Jaenelle had contacted her, she'd gone to see Lord Marcus about finding a hiding place and had discovered that one already existed – a small island that was owned by 'a reclusive invalid Warlord' who lived with a handful of servants.
Daemon owned the island. Everyone who lived there had been physically or emotionally maimed by Dorothea SaDiablo. It was a sheltered place where they could rebuild some semblance of a life.
She hadn't dared go to the island while she was still hunting for Daemon because she'd been afraid of leading Kartane SaDiablo there. Now she and Daemon could both drop out of sight, and the fictitious invalid Warlord and his newly acquired companion would become a reality.
But first there was one fast stop to make, one question to ask. She hoped beyond words that Manny would say 'yes.'
*Surreal. .*
Surreal tried to strengthen the distaff thread. * Jaenelle?*
*Surreal… g… Keep. . o. .*
Surreal tightened the leash on her emotions as the distaff thread snapped. She'd do her best to keep Daemon safe.
Because she owed him. Because what was left of Jaenelle cared.
Not allowing herself to think about what was happening in the center of the maze, Surreal flew on.
Ladvarian's frantic barking and Lucivar's shouted 'Father!' snapped Saetan out of his worried brooding. Propelling himself out of a chair in Jaenelle's sitting room at the Keep, he rushed to the door leading into her bedroom, then clung to the frame, paralyzed for a moment by the sight of the ravaged body Lucivar held in his arms.
'Mother Night,' he muttered as he grabbed Kaelas by the scruff of the neck and pulled the snarling young cat off the bed. Throwing back the bedcovers, he placed a warming spell on the sheets. 'Put her down.'
Lucivar hesitated.
'Put her down,' he snapped, unnerved by the tears in Lucivar's eyes. As soon as Lucivar gently laid Jaenelle on the bed, Saetan knelt beside her. Laying one hand lightly against her chest, he used a delicate psychic tendril to sense and catalog the injuries.
Lungs collapsing, arteries and veins collapsing, heart erratic and weak. The rest of the inner organs on the verge of failing. Bones as fragile as eggshells.
*Jaenelle,* Saetan called. Sweet Darkness, had she severed the link between body and spirit?
*Saetan?* Jaenelle's voice sounded faint and far away. *I made a mess of it, didn't I?*
He fought to remain calm. She had the knowledge and the Craft to perform the healing. If he could keep her connected with her body, they might have a chance to save her. *You could say that.*
*Did Ladvarian bring the healing web from the Keep in Terreille?*
'Ladvarian!' He instantly regretted shouting because the Sceltie just cowered and whined, too upset to remember how to speak to him.
Kaelas planted his front paws on either side of the small dog's body and gave his friend an encouraging lick.
After another nudge from Kaelas, Ladvarian said, *Web?* He stood up, still safely sheltered by the cat's body. *Web. I brought the web.*
A small wooden frame appeared between Ladvarian and the bed.
To Saetan's eye, the healing web attached to the frame looked too simple to help a body as damaged as Jaenelle's. Then he noticed the single thread of spidersilk that went from the web to the Black-Jeweled ring attached to the frame's base.
*Three drops of blood on the ring will waken the healing web,* Jaenelle said.
Saetan looked at Lucivar, who stood near the bed as if waiting for a fatal blow. He hesitated – and swore silently because he still felt the sting of old accusations even though he wasn't asking for himself. 'She needs three drops of blood on the ring. I don't dare give her mine. I'm not sure what a Guardian's blood will do to her.'
Rage flashed in Lucivar's eyes, and Saetan knew his son had understood why he'd hesitated to ask.
'Damn you to the bowels of Hell,' Lucivar said as he pulled a small knife out of the sheath in his boot. 'You
Lucivar sheathed the knife. 'I'm going to fetch Luthvian.'
Saetan nodded. Not that Lucivar had waited for his agreement before stepping through the glass door that led to Jaenelle's private garden and launching himself skyward.
Jaenelle's body twitched. Through the psychic tendril, Saetan could feel the Craft in the web washing through her, stabilizing her. He glanced at the web and tried to block out any feelings of despair. One-third of the threads were already darkened, used up.
*I didn't expect it to be this bad,* Jaenelle said apologetically.
*Luthvian will be here soon.*
*Good. With her help, I can transfer the power my body can't hold now into the web to use for the
