“Four.”

Which meant three of the children who had come in with Surreal and Rainier were now among the dead.

“You didn’t warn them about the stairs?”

“The lady witch was screaming and I got scared. So I didn’t talk to them.”

“I guess she saw the beetles.”

A quick, boyish grin. “They pop real good.”

Lucivar hesitated. “If there’s a way, we’ll get you out of this house.” Then he went down the stairs.

Oh, this wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all. If Lucivar caught up to the Surreal bitch and her companion, it would spoil the big battle at the end of the story. Justspoil it. And that boy! What was he doing? He should beattacking people, nottalking to them.

Of course, he hadn’t anticipated any of his “guests” coming in with bottles of blood to use as bribes.

Good idea, though. Probably have to give that idea to the witch in the story. Landry couldn’t haveall the good ideas. And she would be carrying blood because she always did—ever since her encounter with…

Well, he’d figure that out later.

Right now he had to provide his “guests” with the way out of the cellar and up to the final act.

And he wasn’t going to think about that phrase Lucivar used: “walking carrion.”

TWENTY-TWO

One minute there was nothing but a pile of storage boxes and broken furniture; the next, there was a set of stairs leading up to a door.

Surreal didn’t much care where the stairs led as long as it got them out of the cellar, which was a warren of little rooms piled with debris—or barren in a way that made her think the space had been used to cage something. It went on too long, was toobig for the house above them—and it also felt like it was shrinking around them.

Rainier looked at her. "The Black Widows who made the illusion spells were good at their Craft. The illusion that hid these stairs didn’t stop working by chance."

"I know," she replied.

"It feels like a grave down here. It feels like we’re buried alive."

She wished he hadn’t said that, since it matched her sense of the place closing in on them.

"Do we go up?" Rainier asked.

She nodded. Whatever was on the other side of the door would be easier to face than staying here.

They went up the stairs, Rainier leading while she guarded his and the children’s backs. The door opened with a dramatic creak—and they were back in the kitchen.

And somewhere in the house, a gong sounded.

Good. Good. One problem solved. As soon as Surreal closed the cellar door, he reengaged the illusion spell that hid the stairs.

Now they would see how well Lucivar fared in the cellar.

The ball of witchlight floated on the end of his war blade, challenging the smothering darkness.

Lucivar hated the cellar. Too dark, too damp, too closed in for a man who belonged to a winged race.

Too much of a reminder of the salt mines of Pruul.

This Jenkell bastard. This writer. How much did he know about the SaDiablo family? Was he choosing some of the things in this house because heknew they would provoke memories, or was it all just chance? Did he know enough about Eyriens to understand the difference between living within a mountain and being trapped under the ground?

Didn’t matter. There was a punch of fear that came from memories, so he let fear fuel temper. He’d gotten out of the salt mines of Pruul. He would get out of this house too.

The kitchen looked exactly the same—except for one thing.

“The bowl of peaches is gone,” Surreal said, turning slowly as she looked more carefully at the room. “Did the ‘caretaker’ remove the bowl or are we in a different room despite how this looks?”

Suddenly all four children screamed. A moment later, the smell of urine stung the air.

Rainier gave her a sheepish look as he closed a drawer. “The spiders are still here.”

Currents of air. Not fresh air, exactly, but different from the cellar. The witchlight revealed no opening, no difference in the walls. But there were those currents of air. And then…

The roar took him by surprise, had him shifting into a fighting stance.

No movement. No rushing attack. Just that warning.

“Jaal?” he called softly. “Kaelas? It’s Lucivar.”

It was possible that Jenkell had hired other Blood to hunt down a tiger or an Arcerian cat. As one of the demon-dead, either feline would be a lethal predator. Of course, either one would be just as lethal if it was dumped into the house alive. Wouldn’t even need one of the kindred if it was a live predator.

But if the cat wasn’t part of the spells in the house…

Using the air currents as a guide, he moved closer to the wall—and was rewarded by a snarl.

He’d heard it often enough to recognize that snarl and knew which cat he was dealing with. He just wasn’t sure if the snarl was meant as a greeting or a threat.

“Kaelas? It’s Lucivar.”

What was there? A passageway that had been built when the house was inhabited so that servants could move back and forth from the house to another building? Or was it just a dirt tunnel that had been dug as an escape route when the house was being made into this nightmare?

Either way, he couldn’t see Jaenelle asking one of the cats to guard a tunnel, and neither cat had been with her this morning, so neither was close enough to have reached the house this soon.

That left a shadow guarding the tunnel. Almost as deadly as the real thing. Maybe a little more so if Jaenelle made it. There was a faint hope of reasoning with the real Kaelas, since the cat knew he’d get yelled at if he attacked another male who belonged to Jaenelle. But a shadow followed a set of commands. Lucivar figured “kill” was the dominant command for anything Jaenelle had placed in the tunnel.

He was about to call again when the male rumble that was Kaelas’s psychic voice thumped against his inner barriers. Kaelas’s voice, but not Kaelas. So itwas a shadow guarding the tunnel.

"Do not eat Lucivar. Do not eat Surreal. Do not eat Rainier." The shadow Kaelas sounded grumpy about having his list of edibles restricted.

Damn shadow couldn’t eat anyone anyway. Maul and kill, yes. Eat, no.

At least, he was fairly sure a shadow couldn’t really eat someone. Then again, it wasn’t smart to make assumptions about any shadows Jaenelle made.

“The Lady told you not to eat me?”

A pause. Then, reluctantly, "Lady said do not kill you."

Hell’s fire. He would have to tell Jaenelle she was giving these shadows a little too much of the original’s personality. Unless it had been told to, a shadow shouldn’t be making that distinction.

“Have you seen Surreal?”

"Smelled her. Gone now."

“Out the tunnel?”

"No."

Not surprising. Surreal and Rainier didn’t know Jaenelle and Daemon were waiting outside, had no reason to think Jaenelle was responsible for the cat guarding the tunnel. Instead of heading out of the house, they must have headed back in.

Lucivar started to turn away, then stopped and considered that faint presence he’d sensed in the house—the little writer-mouse scurrying behind the walls, watching and listening. Then he considered that, shadow or not, it never hurt to make a large predator happy—especially if he might need to use the tunnel to get everyone out of the house.

He told the shadow cat, “If any other human tries to get out through the tunnel, you go ahead and eat him.”

As he walked away to explore another part of the cellar, the shadow Kaelas’s pleasure purred at him through the psychic thread.

Daemon circled the fence around the house, a slow prowl. Watchful. Aware.

There was no sign of anyone in the house. No movement of a curtain, no face at a window. Of course, he hadn’t seen any lights last night, and there had to have been lamps or candles burning.

So he couldn’t trust what he was—or wasn’t—seeing.

But he had to trust that when Lucivar punched through the spells and opened up a way out of the house, he would see it.

He stopped over the spot where the tunnel was located and considered the shadow cat standing guard. Seemed a shame to waste such a magnificent predator. Maybe…

Instead of continuing his prowl, he retraced his steps and returned to the Coach.

“Mrs. Beale was very efficient,” Jaenelle said when he stepped inside. “Yuli and I have discovered more food in the chill box and pantry. We’re going to heat up some soup. Do you want some?”

He shucked off his coat and vanished it. “Yes, I want some, and I’ll heat up the soup.”

“I can heat up soup.”

“I’m sure you can.” Having made the attempt to teach her a couple of cooking basics, he wasn’t sure of that at all.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It’s been years since I blew up a kitchen."

Despite the boy watching wide-eyed, he gave her a simmering kiss—then nipped the jar of soup out of her hand. "All the more reason why we shouldn’t take a chance now. You can slice up bread and cheese."

"Hurray for me."

He noticed Yuli’s puzzled look and grinned. The boy was bright enough and observant enough to know something was going on but not what—or why.

"After we eat, I’d like to talk about making a slight change in the tangled web that holds the shadow cat. I may have a use for a predator."

"Can I at least stir the soup?"

"No."

A huff. "I’ll talk to you anyway."

As he heated the soup for the three of them, he put aside the worry and the anger. There would be time enough for both later.

It was time.

Tersa vanished the tangled web and turned away from the worktable.

She would go to the spooky house and talk to the Langston man. One…last…time.

TWENTY-THREE

“Surreal?Surreal!”

“Wha?” Why was Rainier sounding so cranky?

“Drink this.”