“The catwalks. They’re painted the same color as the ceiling so nobody notices them. We use them for making repairs.” Casanova grabbed a flashlight from the nearest guard and shone it between a maze of glittering rock formations. I still couldn’t see what he was talking about, but Nick was obviously standing on something.

“Why is he up there?”

“He’s probably trying to make it out onto the roof, assuming he doesn’t break his fool neck first.” Casanova cursed. “My insurance premiums are going to skyrocket if he falls.”

“Why would he?”

“Because the catwalks also serve as support for the larger stalactites, with the rocks protruding right down through the middle of them!”

Nick had stopped in front of a rock that looked too wide to reach around, and I was sure he wouldn’t make it. But I should have known better. Nick might look harmless, but he was a war mage. Luckily, so was Pritkin, and he’d seen him, too. The flashlights illuminated a bright blond head scrambling to catch up, but Nick had a good lead. He thrust a dagger into the side of the fake rock, making an extra foothold for himself, and used it to hop around the obstacle.

“Can he really get to the roof?” I demanded, clutching Casanova’s arm tight enough to make the beam wiggle. I knew he couldn’t reach the level with the turrets, where I’d been two weeks ago, but the lower one over the entrance would be even better from his perspective. It was tantalizingly close to the ground.

“If he gets all the way across, yes. There’s an access hatch onto the roof for repairing the main sign.” Casanova glanced at me. “How badly do you want him down?”

“Bad. Why?”

“Because some of my guards are armed.”

“You can’t start shooting in a roomful of people!”

“We can pass it off as part of the show,” he said, gesturing around. Most of the trapped tourists had decided that this must be unscheduled entertainment and had paused their complaints long enough to crane their necks upwards, straining to see through the gloom.

“Will you pass it off if someone dies? Bullets ricochet!”

“My boys are good shots.”

“And he’s a mage. None will get through his shields. Can you get someone outside, to intercept him?”

Before Casanova could answer, Nick spotted his pursuer and threw a spell, just as Pritkin was edging around the fat stalactite. It hit the mass of fake rock dead on, causing it to crack down the middle and sending a rain of plaster into the watching crowd. That was followed by a shower of sparks as Pritkin and Nick simultaneously threw spells at each other. The audience cheered, but it was the final straw for the pterodactyl things, who launched themselves into the air and went screeching toward the fight.

“Casanova!”

“I can’t call them off—don’t even ask.”

“What do you mean? Are you in charge around here or aren’t you?!”

One of the creatures targeted Pritkin, clawing and pecking at his shields. The other creature went after Nick, but he fired a spell at it that singed one of its batlike wings, sending it wheeling away over the crowd. It was soon back for more, but in the meantime he’d made it to the next stalactite.

“Not when it comes to security,” Casanova said rapidly. “The wards are designed to act independently. There’s nothing I can do as long as those two keep tossing magic around!”

I bit my lip and watched the creature attacking Pritkin make a vicious jab with its beak. It penetrated halfway into his shields, then stopped as its head became stuck. It began thrashing around, forcing him to drop to his knees and clutch the beam to keep from being pulled off by its attempt to free itself. Meanwhile, Nick was getting much too close to the exit.

Pritkin managed to focus despite the beating he was taking from the giant wings, and threw a spell at Nick, collapsing the section of catwalk he was standing on. It fell into the moat with a splash and a sizzle, sending up a cloud of steam in its wake and barely missing a Charon that had been a little late docking his boat. I looked up in time to see that Nick had somehow snagged the next section. He pulled himself onto it while fending off his creature with a few more spells, heedless of the crowd watching raptly below.

Pritkin was handicapped by trying not to hit the crowd, but Nick felt no such compunction. Sooner or later, he was going to miss and send a deadly spell into the mass of tourists. I couldn’t do anything for Pritkin; I wasn’t a mage. But I could possibly get the lights back on and help security clear the area.

“Let’s go.” I tugged on Casanova. “The kids are probably in the kitchens.”

He grabbed me by the arm and we muscled our way to the stairs, since the elevators weren’t working. At the bottom we paused by a stained-glass window where a little weak light from outside was leaking in. It didn’t help visibility much; I was mostly looking at a long black tunnel where I should have been able to see bright medieval banners overhead, a line of armor going down either side and the room-service kitchens off to the left.

I’d started toward the kitchen door anyway when, out of the darkness, there was a low, slow hiss, like scales sliding against the floor. I froze. I didn’t know what it was, but that sort of sound is never good. It coiled along my nerves, making the hairs stand up on my arms.

“I’ve seen this movie,” Casanova said tightly. “Everyone dies in the end.”

“Shut up!”

“You don’t understand—I know that slither!”

A black mist began sending dark fingers running across the stone of the floor. And everywhere they touched, what little light there was went out. “What is it?”

I could hear him swallow. “The darkness isn’t caused by the absence of light, but by the presence of something else. Something that, believe me, you don’t want to see.”

Yeah, except that dying in the dark didn’t sound all that appealing, either. I grabbed him before he could get away, crushing that expensive sleeve ruthlessly. “What. Is. It?”

“I told you—”

“Casanova! There is a very good chance there are children down here. What the hell is out there?”

He didn’t answer, just shone the flashlight at the ceiling. The walls in this section were dark wood, but the ceiling was painted white, picked out along the edges in gold scrollwork. The thing was hard to see, as it was also bloodless white. It was clinging to the ceiling upside down, head cocked to one side, watching. It was like a parody of a child, small and half formed, glistening wetly across all its surfaces. It looked blind, with no glimmer of eyes under the skin stretched tight across its sockets, but its head turned toward me unerringly.

“Cassie.” It spoke in Pritkin’s voice. It sounded sympathetic. “If you don’t run, I’ll kill you quickly, and I’ll leave the kids alone.”

I swallowed the noise that wanted to crawl out of my throat and made a quick weapons assessment. Mine consisted wholly of a couple of misbehaving knives, since I’d lost my purse somewhere along the line. Not good. But there was a whole line of weapons in the hands of the suits of armor lining the corridor. They looked as lifeless and empty as museum pieces, but were actually part of the security system.

“Casanova,” I said very carefully. “Order the guards to attack it.”

“I can’t.” He shook his head frantically, looking more panicked than I’d ever seen him.

“What do you mean, you can’t? If you let me die, Mircea will kill you.”

“And if you aid her, I will,” the thing on the ceiling said, as if it was part of the conversation. “It is difficult, serving two masters, isn’t it? I warned you it would become awkward one day.”

“Two?” I finally got it. “That’s Rosier, isn’t it?” Casanova nodded dumbly. “You’re not supposed to be back yet,” I told the demon accusingly. Hadn’t Pritkin said it would take at least a couple of days for him to recover? It hadn’t been that long, had it? With all the time-hopping, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t think so.

The thing tilted its head the other way—why, I don’t know. It didn’t have any eyes so it couldn’t have been to see any better. “Well, I’m not at my best,” it finally said.

I looked over at the twitching Casanova, who was going to collapse at any moment. “Go,” I told him. “Help Pritkin. Do not let Nick get out of here and do not let him talk to anyone. I’ll deal with this.”

“You’ll deal with this?” Casanova stared at me with no expression, like he just couldn’t find one that fit.

“Yeah.” I looked up again. It was gruesome, but it was small. I decided I could take it. “I already killed you once.”

“Ah, yes, so you did. But then, that would be why I brought friends,” it said mildly. Casanova fled.

“Friends?”

“Servants of a colleague who owes me a favor. My boys are good for many things, but killing is not really their forte. Now, usually I would make this relatively quick,” it continued. “But after the other day, I am afraid I will have to break my habit. A little matter of prestige. You know how it is.”

“Sure.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something small and glowy emerge from the stairs.

“Now hold still, because this is going to hurt like a bitch.”

“Right back at you,” the pixie said, and threw her tiny sword like an arrow. It hit the thing square in the not-eyes, provoking a shriek of mingled pain and rage.

I twisted my neck around and saw Françoise running down the stairs toward me, looking more than a little frazzled. Her dress was torn in three different places, one of which was oozing a widening stain, and her eyes were huge. Radella, darting around in the air in front of me, looked okay, however. Human weapons might not be able to hurt a demon, but it looked like the Fey had more luck.

I turned around to face Rosier, feeling somewhat calmer. Only to see pieces of the darkness peeling away from the floor, from the corners and from the walls, all along the corridor. I still couldn’t focus on any of them, but I got the feeling that Casanova had probably been right: I didn’t want to.