“That would work!” Peyton began shedding her clothes, totally unabashed. “Do we have anything of hers with us I can use for a reference point?”

I started to shake my head, but Chatter spoke up.

“I do.” He slowly pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. “She gave me this to hold for her…she was crying over the fact that Leo and Geoffrey were out there. I took it to hold for her…and never had the chance to give it back.”

The look on his face said everything that needed to be said. Ysandra took the lace cloth and waited for Peyton to stand back, then slowly begin to shimmer into her Were form. I’d seen her change before—when we rescued her from Myst—and it still mesmerized me. As her limbs lengthened and her skin took on fur, the cougar that emerged from the shifting bands of light was sleek, muscled, and glorious. She let out a huff and padded over to Ysandra.

Ysandra held out the handkerchief. Peyton took a long whiff of it, grumbled a bit, and then turned and began investigating the openings to each passageway. After a moment, she paused by one of the middle ones and looked back at us, then headed down the corridor. We followed, Check, Grieve, and Chatter at the front, along with four of the guards, and the rest at the back.

The hallway was brick—the entire building seemed to be brick—and it ran along smooth, with no sign of any openings until we’d gone a good seventy-five feet; then there were two doors at the end, one to either side, and a door in front. Peyton sniffed at the left door, then the right, then stopped in front of the center one, waiting.

Ysandra incanted a spell. After a moment, she shook her head. “I don’t think there are any traps, but I can’t be sure.” She kept her voice low.

Check motioned to one of his men, who cautiously turned the handle. Locked, he mouthed.

I motioned for him to move. This was one area where my years on the streets would come in handy. Examining the lock, I realized it was older—probably from when the theater first opened. A warded one, which meant it would be easier to pick than some of the more modern types.

“Ysandra, give me one of your hairpins.”

She pulled one out of the intricate braid and handed the stiff metal pin to me. I bent the end into a crook, then inserted it in the keyhole. Jiggling it counterclockwise, I eased it around, avoiding the ward, until I felt it catch, and then I eased it back as the latch slowly slid open. With a click, the door was ready. And so were we.

I stepped back, letting Check go first with a couple of his men. I really didn’t like hanging back, as much as going ahead scared the crap out of me, but there wasn’t much use fretting about it, because I knew Check and Grieve were right. I was Queen now, and I owed it to the Eldburry Burrow and the people of my court to stay as safe as I could.

They pushed through, with Peyton at the lead. She snuffled and sniffed, her nose against the floor as she searched for the scent. The sleekness of her haunches mesmerized me; she was beautiful, muscled and taut. Her eyes, the rich brown they were when she was in her two-legged form, were haunted. She might be young, as far as half-Weres go, but she had seen a lot of life, and I had the feeling there was more in Peyton’s background than she had told anybody.

We moved in behind the guards as they began their trek down the hallway, following Peyton. This hall sloped up at a slight angle, like an aisle between theater rows, and the runner that lined the center of the floor was old and faded. I paused, kneeling down by a brownish spot. Though it was old, I knew immediately it was blood. Dried blood, long past its time. There had been violence here at one point, though of what nature we couldn’t know.

We were more cautious now, moving as silently as we could, because there were doors along the side—widely spaced and not clustered together. The chance that there could be someone on the other side was too great to risk making noise.

We continued up, following the curving hallway. It reminded me of the theaters where a central cinema or stage was flanked on both sides by hallways, leading the patrons to the various sections of the gallery.

By my estimation, we were too far belowground still for the Abby Theater’s main galleria. As far as I knew, there had never been any rumor of an underground performance area. And by the looks of the carpet runner and the flaking paint on the walls, this section had to be as old as the theater itself. Grieve and Chatter wouldn’t know anything about it, but maybe Luna might.

“Luna, do you remember if the Abby Theater had an underground stage? Because there’s no way we’re near street level, yet look at the way the hall curves around the inner wall.”

She followed my gesture. “I see what you mean. But no, I don’t ever remember there being mention of an underground level. In fact, I don’t…no, there was never any mention of it. I used to sing onstage here when I was with the Youth Symphony. All the changing rooms, the prop rooms—they’re all at street level. And I don’t remember any staircases going down, either.”

I wanted to stop, to take a look behind some of the doors, but we didn’t have time, and with Peyton hot on the trail, we couldn’t afford to break pace. I steadied my nerves and tried to quiet my curiosity.

“Do you know what time it is?”

Luna pulled out her phone and checked. “Five minutes till four. We have twenty-five minutes. Cicely, we may be in trouble.”

If we didn’t find Geoffrey and Leo and stake them soon, we were going to be in trouble. Even if we only found Rhia and could get her out of here before they woke, that would be fine. But the feeling in the pit of my gut warned me we might not be so lucky.

As we rounded yet another bend in the ever-ascending hallway, we came to a door to the left side. Peyton stopped, suddenly, stiffening as she stared at it, her head bobbing uncertainly at first, and then she padded over to it, sniffed again, gave a huff, and began to transform back into her normal self. The beautiful, sleek animal vanished as the regal native woman returned.

She motioned to me and we stepped off to the side. I handed her clothing to her as she began to dress.

“She’s in there. I can smell her there. There are others with her, yummanii by their scents. I have no clue if any vamps are there.” She shimmied into her jeans and zipped them, then fastened her bra and pulled on her shirt. “We have to hurry—it’s getting late, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s later than you think.” I motioned to the door. “Check, we don’t have time to mess around anymore. Head on in.”

Check burst open the door and we poured in, en masse, in hopes of overwhelming whoever was on the other side.

The room was wide and long, and now I realized where the dungeon was that Rhia had been filmed in. The redbrick wall with the net covering it was to our right, and the various play toys—the spanking bench, stocks, and bondage table—were meticulously placed around the room. The walls were redbrick, and long curtains hung in panels—drapes of red and black velvet and satin. The ceiling was a good fifteen feet high, and the acrid odor of incense filled the air. I could have sworn there was a drug in it. The scent was intoxicating and heady, but I managed to keep a handle on my senses.

There were five men in the room, but they looked to be in a stupor, and at first I thought this was going to be easy. We could stun them, grab Rhia, and run. If we could find her. As I looked around, I first thought Peyton must have been mistaken, because she was nowhere in sight. But then I heard a noise and glanced up to see a cage hanging about eight feet off the ground, and in that cage, Rhiannon was hunched over, sobbing.

“Rhia!” I couldn’t help it—I called out her name and she stiffened, then clutched the bars, staring out the side of the cage.

At my outburst, the men definitely noticed us, struggling to get to their feet. But Check and the guards wasted no time, wading right in. Within moments, all five of the yummanii had been stunned and were out cold. Check crouched, then leaped up, grabbing hold of the cage, as he climbed atop it.

There seemed to be no way to lower it to the ground. The switch to do so was probably hidden along the wall, behind one of the curtains. Check wasted no time in leaning over the side to work the padlock on the cage. He shouted, though, pulling back. The lock was iron.

“Get me up there!” I could pick it, and the iron wouldn’t hurt me.

Teral and another of the guards took hold of me, boosting me up to stand on their shoulders as they braced my ankles and legs. I wavered, but managed to catch my balance, and as I grabbed hold of the cage for support, Rhia’s fingers crept out, wrapping around mine. Her face looked haunted and her eyes were bleak, but she was smiling and weeping.

I pressed my lips to her hands, then gently shook her off. “Let me get this open. We have to get out of here now, because the vampires will be awake in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, Cicely…” She sucked in a deep breath. “Hurry! Leo said he’d be back to…”

I shushed her and went to work on the padlock. It was easy, and within a moment I had it sprung. The door swung open, and I reached in for Rhiannon and helped her scoot to the edge, hanging her legs over.

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Not…I don’t know how to answer that. I can run.”

“I understand.” I kissed her on the cheek and then leaped down. She waited till I had cleared away from the guards, and then she swung down, hanging from the edge as the guards caught her and helped lower her to the ground. She steadied herself, and I noticed the bruises on her wrists and face.

Chatter slowly walked forward. Rhia shivered, looking wide-eyed and afraid, but all he did was open his arms. She fell into his embrace, pressing her face against his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around her, enfolding her in his love and safety while avoiding her back, where we’d seen her being caned on the DVD. He kissed her hair, pushing it aside lightly with one hand, and then kissed her forehead.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered. “I thought I was going to lose you forever, and I couldn’t bear it.”

She squeezed her eyes tight, and I hated to break up their reunion, but time was ticking down. I turned to Peyton, and she held up her clock. Four fifteen. We had less than ten minutes.

As I glanced around the dungeon, the feel of decay and pain set in, and all I could think about was getting out of here. I wanted to stake Geoffrey and Leo, but they’d be awake in minutes, and it was far easier to think about fighting a sleeping vamp than one on his feet.

“Let’s get out of here. I don’t know if we have time before the vamps wake up, but we have to try. I want Rhia out of here and safe before we attack. I left word for Lannan and Regina. The second the sun sets, he and his men will be on their way.”

Check nodded. “Let’s go…” He took the front and led us out of the room, but the minute we were in the hall, I knew something was wrong. The hallway seemed convoluted, and though I was sure we’d come from the right, which should be downhill, everything was reversed. The hall to the right sloped up. Not sure what to do, Check looked back to me.

I thought for a moment. If we went back the way we’d come, we’d be heading…up? But what if it was an illusion, meant to make us think we were going the wrong way, yet instead leading us into a trap?

“Ysandra—” I turned to ask her if she could sense an illusion around us, but she was staring toward the right, her eyes wide. “What is it?”

“Something is coming. We have to move, now.” A look of absolute terror washed across her face. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to be around when it gets here. And neither do you. To the left.”

“But that’s not the way we came!” I protested for a second but then stopped, because on the slipstream, from what seemed like a million miles away, I could hear the hushed whisperings of creaking coffins and falling earth, of graveyard dirt scattering as creatures rose through soil and rock.

He comes…he has awoken early and now he comes in on the wind. The master is free…the great seer is risen from his isolation and he walks among us now.

In that moment, I knew who they were whispering about, and my blood ran cold. I turned, horrified, and shot off to the left like a bat out of hell. Crawl was coming—Crawl, the Blood Oracle. Crawl, the seer of the Crimson Court, and next to Myst, he terrified me more than any creature walking this planet. Crawl, who wanted my blood, who wanted to drink me and turn me into a hollow husk, who had ripped my throat open with his deathly hunger and wanted more.

The others followed as I tried to navigate the passage, but it started to twist and turn, and I realized that up and down—left and right—none of it made any sense. Reality had bent, my perception was askew, and there was no guessing where we were going. I didn’t care. I wanted to be anywhere but here because damn it, Crawl was on the move, and when he arrived, he’d mow through us like a herd of children after a packet of juice boxes.

As we raced along the hall, Chatter holding Rhiannon steady, I pulled out my cell and glanced at the clock. Not quite four eighteen. Three minutes and the vamps would rise, but as old as they were, there was a chance Regina or Lannan might be able to clear their coffins a little early. If they slept in coffins. I’d never bothered to ask, to be honest. Shaking the wayward thoughts from my mind, I glanced at the bars. We’d reached a point where there were two—not the greatest reception, but it might do. I punched the speed dial for Regina’s number and pressed the phone to my ear as I hurried along the convoluted passage.

“Emissary’s office, may I help you?”

I recognized the voice as belonging to Regina’s day-runner secretary. “I left a message earlier for Regina. This is Cicely and we’re running from Crawl. We need help.” I didn’t have time to be diplomatic, and the next moment, I found myself placed on hold. Another moment and Sasha was back.