They scattered, and I went to Juliet. Keeping them at bay with my sword, I pulled the spike from her throat.
An Old One flew at me, and I set its robe on fire. It screamed and dropped to the floor, rolling to put out the flames. I hoped the fire barbecued its yellow hide.
I removed the spike from Juliet’s left hand. The Old Ones gnashed their fangs at me but stayed back.
“Victory”—Myrddin’s voice cut across the room—“cannot win.” He giggled at his little pun.
I looked across the room at him. Mab’s bloodstone dangled from his hand.
He laid it on the table where the jar had stood. And then he lifted a hammer above it.
“Do you know what will happen if I smash this bloodstone?”
“Don’t—”
“Your aunt’s life force shatters into little pieces, as well. She dies. Instantly.” He tapped the stone lightly with the hammer. Each tap was a blow to my heart. “I think I can gather enough life force from the shards to finish the job with Pryce. Would you like that, to have part of Mab’s soul trapped within my son?”
“Don’t do it, Myrddin.”
“All right. Then I’ll need your life force instead. You or Mab. It’s one or the other.” He stopped tapping and raised the hammer again. “Hurry up. I don’t have much time. If you won’t decide, I’ll decide for you.”
“Let Juliet go. If you promise not to hurt her or Mab, I’ll cooperate.”
“What Colwyn and his corpses do with that vampire is none of my concern. My offer extends only to your aunt.”
I hesitated.
The hammer descended.
“No! Stop!” I screamed. “Don’t kill her.”
An inch above the stone, he stopped. He glared at me from under his brows. “Extinguish your sword.”
I let the flames die. One of the Old Ones—Colwyn, I think—snatched the sword and tossed it aside. Cold hands wrapped around my limbs like shackles of ice. The Old Ones hoisted me and carried me toward Myrddin.
A howl sounded. It started low and rose in pitch, full of anger and desperation. The Old Ones carrying me halted as it reverberated, filling the room.
“Kane!” I screamed, twisting toward the entrance. “In here! Go through the—”
An Old One stuck his hand in my mouth. I choked on long-dead flesh. Pushing aside revulsion, I bit down hard, but it didn’t faze the Old One. I couldn’t hurt it.
“Get her over here, now!” Myrddin said, his voice low but brimming with menace. The Old Ones carried me, bucking and struggling, to the table.
“Hold her down,” Myrddin said. “So I can finish this.”
Four Old Ones restrained me, pressing my arms and legs hard against the table. At my head, Colwyn covered my mouth, holding my upper arm with his other hand. I fought to breathe. Each hard-won inhalation reeked with the smell of the grave.
Myrddin bent over me. He’d hung the bloodstone around his own neck again. The pendant dangled from its chain, the bloodstone still small and dull. “No time for fun and games tonight, my girl,” he said. “No slowing down the chi and maximizing the pain. A pity, but it’s time to bring my son back.” He carved the eihwaz rune into my chest. Then he plunged the metal probe into my heart.
The pain convulsed me. My head strained against the Old One’s hand as I tried to scream. My right arm broke free; my grasping hand fastened on the bloodstone.
It pulsed.
The stone grew warm as blood from my slashed palm seeped into it.
I yanked, snapping the chain that held the stone around Myrddin’s neck.
The bloodstone vibrated in my hand, drinking in my blood. A silvery light glowed from between my fingers. The light spread, running up my arm, lighting up the rune cut into my skin. It seeped into my heart, spreading warmth through my chest.
With a mighty heave, my heart rejected the probe, expelling it from my body.
From the entrance, a roar pierced the room. The heads of all four Old Ones whipped toward it. I looked, too.
Kane towered there, still a hybrid of man and wolf. He stood at his full height, powerful, his shoulders broad. But his head had wolfish features and his fingers sprouted wicked-looking claws. He wore clothes he’d taken from one of the dead vampires, but somehow that made him even more terrifying.
He roared again, and the Old Ones scattered like cockroaches. They scuttled deeper into the room. Kane howled and ran after them.
Myrddin drew back his arm to hurl energy at Kane. I kicked him, knocking off his aim. His fireball missed, exploding against the wall. I rolled off the table, away from Myrddin, and crouched, ready to dodge his next fireball, gauging the distance to my sword.
But Myrddin didn’t throw another fireball. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the light emanating from the bloodstone.
I opened my fingers a little to let the light stream out. A beam shot upward and spread into a nimbus. Its center glowed with an intensity that almost hurt to look at. The light pulsed. It fractured, spun, and came back together in an image. In the center of the nimbus stood a young woman, clothed in a white gown, a silver circlet crowning her flowing hair.
“Viviane,” whispered Myrddin.
“Betrayer,” she spat. She lifted an elegant hand. Her finger pointed at him, and a torrent of energy shot out. It picked Myrddin up and hurled him against the wall. When he hit, his skin split open and his demon form emerged. It twisted out of his body, like some scaly reptile emerging from an egg, growing by feet each second. Myrddin’s human form disappeared.
Now. I had to act now, while Wyllt, Myrddin’s demon form, was forced to materialize in the human plane. I ran for my sword, shouting the invocation. Flames licked the blade. Holding the bloodstone high with my right hand, I snatched up the sword with my left. I charged the demon.
Viviane directed the stream of energy with laserlike precision. Wyllt glowed, held here somehow by the beam. The demon crouched, too big for this low room. I drove the Sword of Saint Michael through its hide and into its stomach. Flames burned demon flesh; sulfurous smoke billowed. I withdrew the sword and thrust it in again, moving it around to slice up as much of the demon’s innards as I could.
Wyllt doubled over, clutching its abdomen. Black, stinking bile gushed from the wound. Demon flesh melted. Smoke surged. I kept striking and slashing. The demon’s body wavered. It softened and grew spongy, then melted into a waterfall of black blood and liquefied flesh. The remains of the demon puddled on the concrete floor.
From the puddle, a form took shape. Myrddin, his demon half gone, reemerged. He lay slumped against the wall, his body broken, his eyes closed. I checked for a pulse and found none.
In the glowing light from the bloodstone, Viviane nodded, grim satisfaction on her face. Her image faded, along with the silvery light.
Screams echoed from somewhere deep in the underground network of rooms.
I ran over to Juliet and pulled out the spikes that impaled her. I worked as quickly as I could, but carefully. Too much of her weight on the wrong spike would cause more damage.
She was too weak to stand. I lowered her to the ground and removed the silver gag. She licked her lips. “I was the first one to survive the virus,” she said. “So they were trying to see if they could kill me.” Her eyes fluttered. “I think maybe they succeeded.”
The bloodstone pulsed. I opened my hand. Red with my blood, glowing, it was larger than before. The setting had cracked and fallen away in places, but the broken chain was still attached. I tied its ends in a clumsy knot, then lifted the chain over her head and positioned the pendant so the bloodstone hung over her heart. Then, without knowing why, I traced the eihwaz rune on her forehead like a blessing.
Juliet gasped. Her body went rigid, then shuddered. Her wounds shrank and closed. Her eyes flew open and she looked around the room.
“What’s that wizard doing?” she cried.
Myrddin wasn’t dead. He still slumped on the ground, but he held the metal probe with both hands. The probe protruded from his chest, where he’d stuck it deep into his own heart.
