“It wasn’t you, Vegard. It was the rock.”

He went a little pale. “The Saghred?”

“That’s the one.”

Uncle Ryn squatted down next to me, and I still had to look up at him. Elves were usually tall and leanly muscled. Uncle Ryn was just big. He wore his dark hair short, his beard trimmed, and had a booming voice that’d carry clear up to a crow’s nest. He had a booming laugh to go with it and a sense of humor to match. He was somewhere around fifty, but he didn’t look it, and he sure as hell didn’t act like it. I was a firm believer in being happy doing your chosen work. If you had to make a living at something, you should enjoy doing it. Ryn Benares was still in his prime and basking in the benefits of his chosen calling—the most feared pirate in the seven kingdoms.

He took one of my hands in his and gently wrapped his other arm around my waist. “Let’s get you off the floor, Spitfire,” he rumbled softly.

“Careful.”

“That goes without saying. My shirt’s clean and I’d like it to stay that way.”

Uncle Ryn got me on my feet and I didn’t mess up his shirt. It was one of the first things to go right all day. I hoped it was a sign that things were going to improve, but I wasn’t about to place any bets.

“You steady enough?” he asked.

“Only one way to find out.”

Uncle Ryn slipped his arm from around my waist, but didn’t step back. I didn’t fall down or throw up. Two nice surprises.

“I’m good,” I told him. “Thank you.” I turned to Phaelan.

“So what happened after that demon went after Carnades?”

Phaelan just looked at me. “Raine, I’m a wanted man standing in the middle of city watch headquarters with a demon running amok. What do you think I did?”

I grinned. “Ran like hell.”

“Damn straight. But it wasn’t running. It was a tactical retreat.”

“Of course.”

“I tried to catch up with you and Vegard, but his legs are longer than mine. And with that crazed blond berserker look he’s got going, people got out of his way. Apparently I’m not scary enough right now.” He glared at Ryn’s men who’d tried to stop him at the door. “I’ll have to work on that.”

I looked around. We were in a warehouse that looked like it’d been abandoned until recently. Uncle Ryn had been in port for nearly a week, and it looked like he’d started stocking this place the moment he dropped anchor. Food, ale, weapons, black powder—and every bit of it in ample supply.

“Looks like you’re all moved in,” I noted dryly.

Uncle Ryn nodded. “And prepared.”

I snorted. “For a war?”

“To finish whatever anyone here starts. Don’t get me wrong; I respect what Paladin Eiliesor’s trying to do, but I’m not staying on the Red Hawk when my son and niece are up to their pointy ears in trouble.”

I stood on tiptoe and gave my favorite pirate a peck on the cheek. “You know how to make a girl feel loved, Uncle Ryn.”

His smile was warm. “I do my best, Spitfire.” The smile vanished. “I heard the high points of what happened this morning. Now what were the two of you doing picking fights with demons?”

Phaelan answered before I could. “I didn’t pick a fight with anything. I couldn’t even see the things. Raine’s the one who bounced a brick off its head.”

Uncle Ryn looked at me like I was a couple arrows short of a full quiver.

I raised my hands to stave off the obvious. “I know what it sounds like. But the demons were cloaked, no one could see them, and they were killing a mage.”

“So the brick made them stop killing the mage?” Uncle Ryn asked.

“Well, unfortunately not. But it did make that one uncloak so everyone could see them.”

“And pissed it off,” Phaelan added. “And all of its friends.”

Vegard cleared his throat uneasily. “The paladin needs to know that you’re safe.”

I laughed. It made my head hurt, so I tried to stop. “Vegard, I haven’t been safe since I met Mychael. And if Carnades gets his way, I’ll be safely behind bars as soon as he can find me.”

Uncle Ryn scowled. “I’ve been hearing that name from the men working the docks. They always spit after they say it. Who and what is Carnades?”

I thought I was best qualified to answer that one. “Until the archmagus gets back on his feet, Carnades is the senior mage on the island. He thinks I’m dangerous.”

“He thinks right.”

“He also wants me locked up.”

“Only over my dead body.”

I resisted the urge to kiss him again.

Phaelan felt the need to elaborate. “Carnades thinks Raine’s a dark mage who called her demon ‘minions’ here to do her dirty work, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. He tried to arrest her for ‘practicing black magic and consorting with demons.’ ” My cousin snorted. “I think someone’s bounced a couple of bricks off his head. That or his ballast has shifted.”

Uncle Ryn’s scowl turned into something darker. “How much influence does this mage have?”

“Entirely too much,” I told him.

“He could have you imprisoned?”

“And then some.”

“Then you’re staying here with me.”

Uncle Ryn’s voice said no arguments. I didn’t want to give him any, but I had to.

“Sorry, Uncle Ryn, but I can’t.”

“And why not?” he rumbled.

“Let’s just say that something’s happened, and there’s someone I need to have a heart-to-heart talk with.” I said it through gritted teeth, and the threat of violence that came out with my words wasn’t lost on my cousin.

Phaelan knew exactly who I meant and swore. “Tam Nathrach. Raine, he’s trouble; always has been, always will be.”

“So are you,” I shot back.

“Touché. So what kind of trouble has he gotten you into this time?” His eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously. “He didn’t get you—”

I just looked at him. “No, I am not pregnant.”

But you might be married, chuckled the pessimist in my head. My pessimist was starting to think this was funny.

“Ma’am, I’ve been told not to let that happen,” Vegard said.

I didn’t move; I didn’t even blink. “Not let what happen?”

“You get within half a mile of Tamnais Nathrach right now.”

I blew out my breath in exasperation and relief. “Let me guess. It was Mychael, and he didn’t tell you, he ordered you.”

“Right on both counts, ma’am. He said bad things would happen if the two of you got anywhere near each other.”

My little voice snorted, then chortled. If he only knew.

“Vegard, bad things have already happened, and they’re going to keep happening until I can get a handle on what’s going on. The first—and absolutely necessary—step to doing that is to see Tam.”

The Guardian looked decidedly unenthusiastic.

“Did Mychael order you to sit on me again?” I asked.

“Just to try to discourage you.”

“Next time you see him, tell Mychael I’m not easily discouraged.”

Vegard almost smiled. “I think he already knows that, ma’am.”

Chapter 9

Getting from Uncle Ryn’s hideout—excuse me, land-based headquarters—to Tam’s nightclub involved going to ground. Literally.

A rats’ warren of tunnels ran under the entire island. There was no way I could show my face on the streets right now. With Carnades running around waving a warrant for my arrest and/or execution, the quicker I got myself underground, the better. I guess it was too much to hope for that the blue demon had caught up with Carnades and eliminated him and most of my problems in one fell swoop.

I’d never liked tunnels before; I didn’t like tunnels now, and that feeling was unlikely to change in the next hour or so that we’d be spending underground.

Hours underground.

That thought made me breathe funny and put a twitch in my left eyelid. I tried telling myself that I’d just obliterated a couple of demons, one of which had been the size of a small house. We’d have lightglobes or torches, so it wouldn’t even be dark.

Most of Mid’s tunnels were natural; they’d been there for eons and weren’t likely to collapse on our heads.

I could tell myself all that, but it wasn’t going to improve how I felt. Nothing good had ever happened to me in a tunnel or cave. Multiple near-death experiences in a cave just a few days ago only further convinced me that Fate was going to finish the job the moment I set foot in the dank dark.

Think about the destination, Raine. Not the journey.

I had to get to Sirens, and when I did, Tam and I were going to talk.

I’d first met Tam at his nightclub in Mermeia. I was on a case to retrieve a client’s ring that her husband was about to gamble away at one of Tam’s high-stakes card tables. I came to Sirens that night as a customer; I conned my way upstairs as a seeker who was going to do her job come hell or high water.

Tam was overseeing the tables himself that night. He knew I hadn’t come to play, and somehow he also knew I was armed. I didn’t want any trouble, but I wasn’t leaving without that ring. Tam behaved like the perfect host, welcomed me to Sirens, and asked how he could be of service. I wanted to tell him he could serve me just fine by getting the hell out of my way. I tried to step around him; he blocked me. I had daggers strapped to my thighs under my gown and I considered using them, but I was in a high-class establishment and told myself that I could resolve this in a civilized manner. I told Tam why I was there, simply and directly.

My client got her ring back; Tam delivered it to her personally. It was a public relations coup and he knew it.