“The fuel rod!” Jack was yelling, over and over. “It’s going to kill us all. Oh, God, we may already be dead!”

Drake rushed at Caine. His eyes were wide with fear. Knowing he wouldn’t make it. Knowing he was not fast enough.

Caine raised his hand, and the fuel rod seemed to jump off the ground.

A javelin.

A spear. He held it poised. Pointed straight at Drake.

Caine reached with his other hand, extending the telekinetic power to hold Drake immobilized.

Drake held up his human hand, a placating gesture. “Caine . . . you don’t want to . . . not over some girl. She was a witch, she was . . .”

Drake, unable to run, a human target. The fuel rod aimed at him like a Spartan’s spear.

Caine threw the fuel rod. Tons of steel and lead and uranium.

Straight at Drake.

Drake, quick as a snake, twisted his shoulder and neck to the side. The fuel rod did not hit him full in the chest, but struck his shoulder and sent him flying down the dark shaft.

The fuel rod disappeared with him.

There came a loud crash. Dust billowed out of the hole.

Silence.

No sound, but the skitter of falling pebbles inside the shaft.

“Oh, God, did it break open?” Jack moaned. “Oh, my God, I don’t want to die.”

Caine raised his hands and stood, arms outstretched, right before the mouth of the mine.

The ground began to rumble.

Rock snapped and creaked.

No! the hated voice cried in Caine’s mind.

“I’m no one’s slave,” Caine grated.

No! You will not!

Caine faltered. There were knives in his brain, knives stabbing and stabbing, and the agony was beyond imagining.

“Won’t I?” Caine said.

Caine raised his hands high. He reached with his power into the cave and yanked his arms back.

Tons of loose rock, wooden support beams, the shattered fuel rod, a battered old pickup truck, the body of Hermit Jim, and the writhing, cursing figure of a wounded but still living Drake Merwin, came flying out of the cave. Like the cave had vomited up its contents.

The mass of it froze in midair. And then, as Caine formed his hands into a bowl, the suspended mass began to twirl. It swirled like a tornado.

And then, with Drake’s cries lost in the howling madness, Caine swept his arms forward and threw the entire spinning mass down the mine shaft entrance.

The noise was so great that Jack clapped his hands over his ears.

Then, a slow-motion rumble and crack and a sudden, overwhelming, earthquake jolt as the mine shaft collapsed. Millions of pounds of rock closed the shaft forever.

Caine walked on wobbly legs to Diana. He knelt beside her. She wasn’t moving. He put his ear next to her lovely mouth. He heard no sounds of breathing.

But when he laid his palm on her back, he felt the slightest rise and fall.

Gently he rolled her over. The damage to the side of her head was awful to the touch. He couldn’t see clearly, tears filled his eyes, but he could feel a warm slipperiness where her temple should be smooth.

A sob escaped from him.

He heard heavy footsteps. Sam, moving like he was drunk, staggering.

“Sam,” Caine said calmly, not taking his eyes off the dark form of Diana, “if you’re going to kill me, go ahead. Now would be a good time.”

Sam said nothing.

Finally Caine looked at him. Through his tears Caine saw the way Sam wobbled, barely able, it seemed, to stay on his feet. He had been cut up badly. The pain must be excruciating.

Drake’s work. Drake had not killed Sam. But he had come close. And it seemed impossible that Sam would survive for long.

Quinn was struggling under the burden of the body he cradled in his arms. The Mexican kid, Caine guessed, or maybe Dekka.

“So. This is the end,” Caine said dully. He stroked Diana’s cropped hair. “I love her. Did you know that, Sam?”

“It’s not over yet,” Sam said. His voice shocked Caine. He’d never heard more pain in a voice. He heard a barely suppressed scream beneath the words.

“She can’t live,” Caine said.

“Edilio’s hurt. Almost gone,” Quinn said. “They shot him. And Dekka . . .”

“Not me,” Caine said. “Not us. They were both like that when we got here.”

He was not interested in Edilio or Dekka. Not even interested in Sam. So sad that Diana would die this way, all her beautiful hair gone. She looked younger this way. Innocent. Not a word he or anyone else had ever applied to Diana.

“Lana,” Sam said.

Caine felt the faintest flicker. Lana. But where was the Healer?

As if he had heard the question, Quinn said, “She’s in there. She’s in there, with . . . it.”

Caine looked at the mine shaft. He had been down there before. He knew what lay inside. And now, the fuel rod, too.

“We need to . . . ,” Sam whimpered, unable to finish.

Caine nodded. “She must be dead after that.”

“Maybe not,” Sam managed to say. “Maybe not.”

“There’s no way to get in there now, anyway. It’s a wall of rock. It’s a lot harder to move rock back out. I’d have to move the whole mountain,” Caine said. “Hours. Days.”

Sam shook his head and bit his lip as though he would bite it off. Caine saw him hold on barely as the pain passed through him.

“May have another way,” Sam said finally, staring back down the trail.

“Another way?” Caine asked.