Kane shuddered. He bent over as though someone had punched him, hard, in the stomach.

“It’s only for a year and a day, Vicky. For you, I would have—” His words turned into a strangled groan as he began to change. Fire sizzled over him. A memory of that pain seared through me. His skin blistered and bubbled. Smoke rose, and the skin split and shredded to accommodate a huge body covered in black fur. His arms grew and his back twisted, forcing him onto all fours. A howl of anguish escaped his throat. Fangs sprouted and grew to terrifying size as his nose and chin stretched into a muzzle. The fire consumed his eyes, then glowed from the sockets. More flames shot from his nostrils. The pain of that inner burning—I reached out to touch him and he nearly snapped my hand off. The hellhound backed away, growling, acid dripping from his fangs.

In the distance, a long, clear note rang out.

Kane’s head snapped around, tracking the sound. Another blast, and he bounded toward the door. He leapt into the air and passed through the solid door. Drops of acid sizzled on the stone floor after he’d gone.

I stared at the door. “A year and a day.”

“Yes.” Arawn sounded unaffected by the horrifying change we’d witnessed. “He agreed to serve the Night Hag as her hellhound for that length of time. She told me all about it. Tonight, and each night of the next thirteen full moons, he will run with her pack.”

Kane couldn’t have known, couldn’t have understood, what he was getting into. It was the worst bargain he could make. That excruciating pain, the humiliation of being driven by the Night Hag. The running and running until his paws bled. For thirteen full moons, each of them three nights long. Including tonight, that made forty times he’d endure such agony.

He thought he was doing it for me. God, after tonight he’d despise me for the rest of his life.

“My men will escort you to the place where you entered my realm,” Arawn said. “They will remain with you until you have managed to leave or, alternatively, until they have carried out your execution.”

He pulled a bell cord. Immediately the door opened and four guards, dressed in green, marched in. All were heavily armed with swords and knives, with bows and arrows. One of them, a tall man with a coal-black mustache, looked familiar. Except the last time I’d seen him, he was wearing red.

“That’s the Magic Keeper!” I peered at the man’s face. He looked back at me without emotion. Yes, it was him—no doubt. The only difference was his eyes. The irises were rainbow-colored, like the spring he’d guarded. I turned back to Arawn. “You said I killed him.”

“You did. Fortunately for him, the magic of the spring restored his life.”

I’d poured that magic into his wounds. “So—”

“The fact that his life was restored is immaterial. He died, and you were the cause of his death.”

But I wasn’t thinking about the legal technicalities. I was thinking that the magic had cured him. If it did that for the Keeper, it could have cured Dad, as well.

I had twenty-four hours, time enough to find Dad. After we got to the border, I’d slip away from the guards and find Dad’s hideout in the woods. He must have gone back to his cave. He’d hidden there from the Soul Keepers for a long time. Together, we’d elude Arawn’s enforcers and live in the woods.

I moved toward the door, eager to get going.

“Victory,” said Arawn, his voice softer, “I know you think me a tyrant, but I am a reasonable man. Despite the trouble you’ve caused, I bear you no personal grudge. I am merely trying to protect my people.”

I wasn’t so sure I believed that. Sorry about the execution—it’s nothing personal. Uh-huh.

“Since demons attacked the realm, shades have poured into Resurrection Square to be restored or reborn. My Keepers can barely handle the flow. Still, I requested to be informed if a certain name appeared in The Register of the Cauldrons.” He paused, watching my face. “That name, Evan Vaughn, was written into the book an hour ago. Your father has made his return.”

The few hopes I’d managed to scrape up for the future crashed to the floor.

But wait—maybe he was still here. Maybe he’d been regenerated.

“Which cauldron did he pass through?”

“The book doesn’t record that information. However, I spoke with the Cauldron Keeper who helped your father with his return. She knew him from his days at court.”

“What did she say?”

“Resurrection Square is very busy right now, you understand. The cauldrons are working at full capacity. Shades who have been hurt in demon attacks are lined up along each set of steps and across the square. The Keepers have had trouble maintaining order, so many of our wounded are desperate for help. But because she knew your father, this Keeper was curious about his return. She’s quite certain that his bridge stretched to the cauldron of rebirth.”

Rebirth. The fate Dad had wanted to avoid. What was left of my heart cracked in two. Yet there was consolation in knowing his spirit had survived. Somewhere, a proud mother and father were fussing over a newborn animated by the spirit of my father. I hoped they’d take good care of him.

But he was lost to me.

And losing him a second time hurt every bit as much as the first.

32

NONE OF THE GUARDS SPOKE TO ME DURING THE HOUR IT took Arawn’s flying horses to reach the border. Not a good idea to get too chummy with someone when tomorrow’s to-do list includes killing her, burning her body, and scattering the ashes in Hell.

The Night Hag was already waiting for us at our destination. As we dismounted, she came out of the woods in her middle-aged aspect. As she greeted me, her skin sagged and wrinkled into old age.

She snapped her fingers, and her pack of hellhounds ran to her side. They sniffed the air and snarled, baring their teeth at me and my escorts. All were huge and fierce-looking. Was Kane among them? He must be, but I couldn’t tell which one was him. They were all the same—angry and vicious and, I knew, in constant, terrible pain. Mallt-y-Nos pointed at the ground and shouted a command. The hounds crouched, quivering and growling, ready to spring up and attack.

A bony finger poked my arm, and I looked into the face of death. “I hope you have something for me,” the voice of Mallt-y-Nos spoke from the bare skull. “Our bargain has rewarded me poorly so far.”

“You got what you asked for.”

“I didn’t ask for a broken arrow. I didn’t ask for a third-rate hunting horn.” The young woman pouted. “Still, if you’ve brought me the white falcon, I’ll consider our bargain fulfilled.”

Without a word, I pulled the feather from my tunic and held it out to her.

“That’s all?” Mallt-y-Nos knocked the feather from my hand. The hounds shifted, tense. “Where’s the rest of it?”

“I can make you a better offer.” I’d thought about this on the ride here.

Mallt-y-Nos was middle-aged again. She cocked her head. “What?” The question held guarded interest.

“Let me pass, and I’ll take Kane’s place among your hellhounds.”

“Pfft.” She batted my suggestion away. “A substitution of one for another gains me nothing.”

“Then grant me the same terms you granted him—I’ll join your pack for a year and a day.”

The crone scowled. “I have enough hounds. I want a falcon.”

“The falcon is dead. I can’t help that. But if you let me cross the border, I’ll…I’ll owe you a favor. I’ll be in your debt.” An open-ended obligation on the hag’s own terms—a terrible idea, but my very last resort.

“You’re in my debt now, and you cannot pay. I’ll not extend bad credit.” She was silent as her appearance passed from old woman to corpse to skeleton. When she was young and beautiful again, she turned to the guards, smiling flirtatiously. “There’s no sense in delaying the execution. Without the falcon, I’ll never allow her to cross.” She tossed back her hair and smoothed her hands along her sides. The guards watched with interest. “Let me kill her now. I’ll have my hounds tear her to pieces. You’ll find it good sport, I’m certain.”

The hounds growled and lifted their heads, sniffing in my direction. Kane was among them. If the Night Hag gave the order, he’d have to obey. Would he understand what he was doing? Would he remember? The thought hurt worse than fangs and flames ever could.

The former Magic Keeper shook his head. “Arawn’s orders were clear. She has one day.”

The hag pouted again. “But one day will spoil my fun. Now, her lover is among my hounds. Tomorrow, the full moon will have passed and he’ll leave my pack for a month.”

“That’s not my concern.”

Mallt-y-Nos batted her eyelashes, but she was aging now and her attempts at persuasion were losing their power. Her voice went from sexy to shrill. “She’s in default. I will have satisfaction!”

As they argued, a piercing cry sounded overhead. We all looked up. A large white bird circled in the sky.

“My falcon!” Mallt-y-Nos exclaimed. She squinted at me accusingly. “You said it was dead.”

“I— Maybe I was wrong.” But I’d watched it fall. I’d picked up the feather, seen the blood in the water. How had it sur-vived?

The falcon circled downward, drifting near us. The aged Night Hag reached for it with gnarled hands, but it evaded her grasp and flew to me. I held out my arm, and the falcon landed on it. Its talons gripped me, but gently. The Night Hag watched it greedily.

“You said if I give you this falcon, you’ll consider our bargain fulfilled.”

She stretched out a hand, then hesitated. “How do I know it’s the right one?”

“There’s only one white falcon in the Darklands,” said a guard. The others nodded in agreement.

Mallt-y-Nos bit her lip. As her face passed through death and back to youth, she stared at the bird.