Ravenous

headphones. Her perception went wild, everything she was doing suddenly lost in a firestorm of bliss. She threw her head back, feeling the tingle of energy on her throat, down her breasts. This was the kind of magic that made a witch immortal, renewed in the crucible of her own power. She was pumped, jazzed, stoked on the sheer strength of it.

Until she lost control and it all exploded like a Roman candle.

Chapter 30

Alessandro stared at the empty air where the portal had been. Geneva was gone. So were the guardsmen, the changelings, and Macmillan.

And so was Holly. A long moment of disconnection passed. This can't be real. 'What the hell just happened?' he asked Omara.

'Your little witch defeated the demon and closed the portal,' Omara replied, her voice softened with amazement. 'I would not have believed it, but she was stronger than her ancestor. In the end there was no need for The Book of Lies.'

Alessandro was barely listening. Panic and loss finally caught up. He couldn't sense Holly anywhere. He clutched his side, as if the changeling's knife wound were the same as the one draining his heart. 'But where did she go?'

'I don't know. Where did any of them go?' The queen sounded exhausted. She looked around, her shoulders uncharacteristically slumped. 'Where did the book go? I want it back.'

Alessandro's eyes automatically sought out the wolves. Perry was there, patches of fur torn from his coat, but he was safe. Others of his pack lay still and cold on the grass, returned to their human form in death. A strange hush permeated the field.

His own loss dulled the scene. It felt like a newscast, something happening to someone else far away. So tired. I wish I could just lie down.

The eerie silence made the rumble of a high-end ignition in the nearest parking lot all the more audible. A dozen heads turned in that direction.

'It's Pierce,' said Alessandro. He knew the purr of that high-end motor.

'Pierce?' Omara looked at him, her eyes wide.

Tires squealed as the car sped toward the lot entrance.

She doesn't know. Unbelievable. 'He opened the portal. He had the book. I would lay good money he was your thief. If he shared your bed, he had access to your home.'

Omara recoiled, that blow the hardest of the night. 'John!'

Hands fisted, clenched tight to her breast, she spun in a circle, a gesture of agony and rage. The rags of her dress swirled in her wake, exclamations of all the bitter hurt Alessandro knew she throttled inside.

'Traitor,' she said, quietly this time. 'Traitor. I protected him. I refused to hear ill of him!'

Pierce turned onto the exit road, the big motor thrumming its acceleration. There were others watching the scene, hounds and vampires, weary but game for one more kill.

'Get him,' she cried. 'Bring him down!' She exploded into the air, silks trailing like broken feathers. Hounds, wolves, vampires boiled after her, a dark, angry river of retribution.

Alessandro stayed where he was. He was hurt. There was no way he could catch up to that car. Neither could Omara. She landed a little way off, crumpling to the grass, spent. The hounds and wolves streamed past her. This hunt didn't need a leader. They had caught the scent of blind vengeance and could follow it well enough on their own.

Someone would pay for their losses that night. Pierce would do.

Alessandro flew to where the queen huddled, her head in her hands. Her shoulders were shaking, but he had no urge to comfort her. In so many ways she had caused it all.

She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, stopping the tears by force. Queens didn't cry. 'Why?'

Because you toyed with him when he wasn't strong enough to fight back. Because you showed him his weakness and then rubbed his face in it. Because when he thought all was lost, you gave him a treat and started the game over. I know, because for centuries that was me—except I never gave in.

But Alessandro said nothing. If he tried to answer her question, he wouldn't know where to begin, and he was too tired. Instead he told her what she wanted to hear. 'Don't worry; they'll get him.'

Omara sniffed. Her face was dry, only the brightness in her eyes betraying emotion. 'We have to clean up and get out of here. The fey can't hold the humans off forever.'

Alessandro helped her to her feet. 'Your throne is safe. Do what you must. I have to find Holly.'

The queen opened her mouth to reply, but her cell rang. She flipped it open. 'Omara.'

Alessandro watched as new interest filled her eyes. 'What is it?'

She closed the phone, gave him a look that was at once hard and yet full of pity. 'That was the hellhound Lore. There's hope. We may have a clue to what became of your witch.'

As the fey relaxed their cordon, police swarmed to the area, responding to reports of lights and noise. Cop cars flashed like blue and red beacons. Their search would find nothing, but, for Alessandro and Omara, avoiding the roadblocks made progress frustratingly slow.

Eventually they parked at the mouth of a narrow, grimy alley that ran behind the abandoned Empire Hotel. It was downtown, close to the university and not far from Alessandro's apartment. Much of the paranormal community lived and worked in the area, earning the neighborhood the reputation of a ghetto in the making.

The alley had wrought-iron gates, but the padlock was broken. A few feet inside the entry Lore was waiting, leaning against the brick wall. Impassive, he gave Omara a polite nod of greeting. Hellhounds did not bow.

The narrow passage looked as old as Fairview, paved with sagging blocks of cedar. Tiny windows punched through the blackened brick walls, but none were lit. The back door of a Chinese restaurant stood open far down the passageway. Alessandro could smell it, heavy with the stench of human food. Lore beckoned, leading them into the alley.

'The witch made this.'

The hellhound stopped before an arched wooden door that was reinforced with black iron straps. The center of the arch was perhaps nine feet high, thick planks of weathered oak arranged vertically. A heavy bolt secured it from the outside. It looked like something out of a children's illustrated fairy tale.

'She made a doorway to the Castle.' Lore's voice was full of reverence. 'She made freedom possible.'

Alessandro closed his eyes, his wound pulsing with new pain as his heart pounded with love and fear. What did it cost her to do this? What happened to her?

'What's the door doing here in the alley? How do you know it leads to the Castle?' Omara asked.

Lore gestured to two of his men, who were waiting farther down the alley. 'My hounds were chasing the ghouls. They saw a terrible flash of light over this alleyway and felt the rush of power in the air. The hounds came here, with the fey, to investigate and to keep the humans from walking into danger. All they found was this door. The fey knew it for what it was. They said spells like this settle where they please. The door found this place to its liking.'

Lore touched the wood. 'I can feel the Castle behind it. It calls like old, bad dreams.' He dropped his hand, stepping away as if repulsed. 'I have nightmares enough.'

'We thank you for your aid,' Omara said after a long moment. 'You have done more than enough. Go tend to your wounded.'

Lore nodded and left, the other hounds at his heels.

Alessandro crossed to the door, putting one hand flat against the wood. Loss of blood slowed his limbs, adding weight to every step he took, but he ignored the weakness. He had kept going so far. He could go on awhile longer.

Omara watched, saying nothing.