THERE ARE TWELVE OF THEM. YOUNG, FEMALE. They are naked, hanging upside down, hands bound behind their backs with silver chains. When I break into the room, I'm hit with their relief. It's so tangible, it fills me with panic.

Panic because they think I can save them. Their expectation and gratitude swamp my senses.

But I don't know if I can save them.

I don't know how.

I shut down my thoughts while I move from one to the other. My own senses are recoiling so violently, it takes all my strength to shield them. I force the revulsion down. Look at them, Anna. Figure out how to set them free.

Each vampire has a metal collar around her neck. Each collar is a small trough with a spiked spigot. The spike has been driven into the vampire's jugular, piercing it. From the spigot hangs a tube. Blood drips from the tube into collection bags. Or, in the case of the two vampires on the end, a stain where the last drops fell onto the floor. For those two, there's no help. They have been drained lifeless.

I squeeze my eyes shut. For a moment, I've forgotten the reason I'm here. Forgotten the heat that grows more intense, ignore the cries of the vampires that the flames grow closer. All I can think is, Why would Belinda Burke do this?

Does she hate vampires so much, she came up with this elaborate, horrifying way to kill them? Did she plan to bring me here after she finished her revenge against Culebra and Frey? The thought fills me with horror.

So what changed her mind? Why did she decide to destroy her demonic torture chamber now and let the vamps trapped here either bleed to death or be destroyed by the flames?

The flames.

The anguished voice of one of the vampire's brings me back. I push the fear and hatred to the back of my mind. How can I save these women?

I do the only thing I can think of. With shaking hands, I go from one to the other, turn the spigots until the blood flow stops. I avoid looking in their eyes. I'm afraid of what I'll see.

I unhook the tubes and chains and lower each gently and carefully to the floor. I don 't touch the collars. I have no idea what might happen if I try to take them off, but the fact that just touching them brings shudders of agony numbs me. I unbind their hands. The four nearest the front get to their feet on their own. The ones behind are shakier and I help them to stand. Slowly, clumsily, we start to make our way outside. The stronger of the injured help the weaker.

We step outside under an apocalyptic sky. Smoke and ash turn day into evening. We cling to each other as we make our way to the shelter of some trees at the edge of the parking lot.

Only when we are away from the building does one of the women grasp my arm.

"There is another," she says.

I look back toward the building. Smoke is thicker now, pouring out the entrance to the underground torture chamber. The draft caused by my breaking in draws the flames downward.

"Another?"

"Brought in just before the explosion. Unconscious."

"I don't think I can go back."

She nods sadly. "I doubt he'll know what happens."

My heart jumps. "He?"

"A young male vampire. In a policeman's uniform."

Time stops. I dig my cell phone out of my pocket, hit speed dial, and thrust it at her. "When a man named Williams answers, tell him where we are and what happened. Tell him Ortiz is here at Burke's warehouse."

I don't wait for a response or to see if Williams picks up. I'm running full speed back to the warehouse.

The smoke can't hurt Ortiz, the heat, either.

But the flames licking at the back of the chamber can.

"Ortiz!" I'm screaming it at the top of my lungs. He's got to hear me, got to let me know where he is.

There's no response-no verbal or mental path for me to follow.

He must still be unconscious. I push back beyond the two dead vampires still hanging like broken dolls from the ceiling. I didn't look any farther into the chamber than this before. I didn't think I needed to.

Vampires don't breathe. The smoke and heat are an annoyance, they blur my vision, dull my senses. I have to keep wiping my streaming eyes, focusing on the dark beyond the corpses.

Where could he be?

There's a flash and a roar. The draft from the broken loading bay door finally succeeds in drawing the flame to its source. Fire races down the back stairs and across the floor as if following an invisible trail.

I can't stay here much longer.

"Ortiz, where are you?" I scream it until my throat is raw.

Over and over. Then, I stop, listen.

Tell me where you are. Please.

The only sound that fills my ears is the crackle of the flame. The only thing I see is the hell of fire bearing down.

Then-

A muffled cry.

Tell me where you are. I scream it again like a crazy person.

There's no answer. In the corner, near the stairs, a figure suddenly rises.

Ortiz pulls himself up, shaking his head, confused, immobile. He looks across the room.

Here, I'm yelling. Over here.

I take a step toward him but there's a wall of flame between us. I can't jump it and I can't go through it.

Ortiz-can you find a way around?

He is looking right at me now. He sees me. He understands.

His eyes sweep the room. He's surrounded by flame.

I don't know what to do.

Ortiz' eyes seek mine. There's a rush of conflicting emotion-fear, regret, acceptance. He holds up a hand. Be sure Brooke is all right.

Tell her I loved her.

No. You can't give up. Look around.

His gaze remains on me. Help Williams. He'll need you now.

No. Find a way out. Look.

But as I speak the words, the flames erupt around him in a tornado of wind and noise. In one moment, he's there, watching me, smiling.

In the next, his body bursts into flame. It ignites in a single, sparkling burst and is suspended a moment in the air, like an exploding star.

I don't want to watch.

I can't look away.

Ortiz dissolves into flickering embers and pinpricks of white light that rain down like the tears of an avenging angel.

And Ortiz is gone.