Her explosion had likely drawn its attention, which meant that movement attracted it. Since its multiple gazes were on the fleeing men, she stayed stil , not breathing, not moving. She was close to it, such that it would have to tuck in its chin and look directly down to see her.

  Letting out another shril scream, it took several running steps and launched itself on wings that seemed merely a frame of bones connected by a thin membrane run through by blood vessels. The wings were too thin for this sun, but that might be why it could burrow and travel underground. It might even be immune to the sun.

  Unfortunately, those three running steps took him directly over her. She couldn’t risk moving, but there was also no time to move away. It pushed into flight off her thigh. The give of the sand beneath her saved the bone from breaking, but the barbed talon tore open her thigh, a long gash that went to the bone.

  Biting down on a scream, she rol ed face-first, pressing her thigh and the resulting geyser of blood into the sand. Hopeful y by the time the creature reached and mangled the other victims, it would assume the blood on the talon belonged to them. But she was sure it would be back.

  Tearing another strip off the hem of her tunic, she tied it around her thigh to staunch the blood flow. Her neck and ears, any part of her not under the hat or her clothes, was already blistered. She tasted smal rivulets of blood from her cracked lips. She’d taken her hair down despite the heat, because it provided some covering for her neck and face.

  As she staggered to her feet, moved forward once again, she thought of Mason. When she’d visited him in the desert years ago, he’d worn the elegant tunic and robe of a Bedouin, a romantic figure. It said something that what her memory lingered on was not how devastatingly handsome the male vampire was in such garments, but the garments themselves. If Mason was here, he’d strip them off without hesitation to give them to her, no matter that he’d turn to ash before he even got to her. Her life was ful of foolish, noble and chivalrous males.

  The sand serpent unfortunately hadn’t left a tunnel in its wake. The sand was too soft. When it emerged, the sand had closed in behind it, so fol owing the path it had taken underground was not possible. It was too risky anyhow, not knowing where the next surface break would appear.

  She’d held on to one of the Fae she’d turned into a stick and now used it to hobble forward, ignoring the fact she was dizzy and her breath was labored.

  She’d fought through much worse pain than this to achieve her goals. This would be no different. Of course, when she’d had more vampire strength than Fae, she’d been more certain of what could or couldn’t kil her. The wound in her leg, combined with the sun’s heat and however many other battles she faced, might end her.

  She made it another hundred yards before she heard the serpent’s shrieking cry again. It had reversed course. She made a dive for the gul y its tail had created and burrowed deep, though she suspected it had already seen her.

  As it swooped, she knew that was the case. Even if not, at this range, there was no way it couldn’t smel the blood, coating her leg with slick grit. Giving a snarl of pure frustration and exhaustion, she shoved herself out of the gul y and took a defensive position.

  As she did, she reached deep into the ground beneath her. Nothing, no magic left there. The wel was dry.

  But there was the creature itself, a being of life and earth, no matter how rare or aberrant. As her mind raced over the thought, weighing possibilities, she braced herself, watching it arrow down toward her.

  The triple gaping maw of teeth was open, the talons extended. Dropping to a squat, she bit back a moan at the fire that shot up her wounded leg. She had no speed, and even at her best, she didn’t have enough strength. It didn’t matter. She’d depend on her mind. It had always been her best weapon, coupled with her unstoppable determination to win.

  Since Rex’s murder, Thomas’s death, the Delilah virus and the Council’s betrayal, she’d been fighting that damn lassitude. What Jacob had feared was the onset of the Ennui. But suddenly, out here in a barren desert, closer to death than she’d ever been—which, given her precarious life, was saying something—

  that determination unfolded inside her, like a treasure that had merely been waiting for her to unwrap and remember she possessed it.

  She wasn’t leaving her boys alone, come hel or high water. Or deserts, Fae queens and sand serpents. Kane and Jacob needed her, and she needed them. She wasn’t going to lose this fight; she didn’t care what Fate or the law of averages told her about her chances. In the cruel irony that fate often offered, it was truly facing her own inevitable death that gave her a renewed resolve to live.

  Looking up into the face of the creature as it swooped down upon her, she got a ful face of its fetid breath as it screamed. She screamed back. As she did, she saw the masticated body part of one of her pursuers stuck in the back row of teeth.

  Then she ducked and flung herself at its right claw.

  As the creature closed the talons around her, caging her, she put both hands on the creature’s ankle, thick as a young tree trunk. The talons stabbed her like five knives, but she focused, focused, focused.

  Feeling her magic, the serpentlike beast launched itself again rather than immediately tearing her apart, a vital advantage. High above the earth, dizzying, turning. She pul ed the energy from inside that creature, pul ed hard. Earth, creation, al of it there, al magic she could use. She could turn it to her wil , it didn’t matter that her strength was flagging, that there were hazy bands of color shooting across her vision like flashing stars broken free from a rainbow.

  Two of the talons had hit major organs, because she could feel her body stuttering, losing her grip, her focus.

  No. She snarled again, fought it, fought the inevitable. She was not going to be torn apart. She was not going to die like that. Bringing the magic together with the creature’s energy, she didn’t attempt to control or direct it. She let it go like a suicide bomber tossing an incendiary up over her head and watching it drop with wild, mindless insanity.

  The sand serpent, already capable of a symphony of disturbing cries, let out a shriek that pierced her bones, made them ache. The beast shuddered in the air, faltered. Hazarding a look down, she realized they were several hundred feet in the air. She managed a grim half chuckle. The least of her problems, truly. Hanging on to a corner of the magic, she clutched the serpent’s ankle as its talons released, her blood painting every claw. Adrenaline pumped through her, making everything numb.

  “Damn it, work,” she growled. She yel ed it, gripped that ankle for al she was worth. And beneath her grip, it began to change.

  At first it looked like it was turning to stone, a gray tint running up the creature’s leg, al the way to the skeletal features and the wings, freezing them in place. As they began to tumble out of the sky, that horrible screech came from its throat again. A terrible shudder and the beast exploded in midair, the inside coming outside, yanked there by her wil .

  Unfortunately, it left nothing to hold. She plummeted to earth among sharp shards of bone, gouts of blood and muscle, and a hailstorm of tiny sand stone, perhaps something it used for its digestion.

  A piece of the wing slapped her face, cutting it open. She seized it. She was too close to the ground for it to slow her fal much, but it did help. That, coupled with the last scrap of magic she could command to summon air currents to fil it and slow her descent. As a result, she hit with a dul , bone jarring thud, instead of snapping her spine and paralyzing herself.

  She lay there for long moments, wondering if she was about to die. She couldn’t seem to move, though that could be her body’s way of asking for a few moments to col ect itself from the huge power drain of the energy summoning, the blood loss from her leg, or the multiple stab wounds in her upper body. Or the fact she had one enormous, pounding headache. Probably from sunburn.

  She hoped that would heal. If she had to emerge from this experience with permanently blistered, unattractive skin, she might choose to die here, with sincere apologies to Jacob and Kane. Family was one thing, a woman’s vanity was entirely another. It almost made her smile, remembering how she’d teased Jacob about that not too long ago, at another equal y grim moment, when she’d had the Delilah virus.

  How many times could she almost die before the Grim Reaper got tired of showing up at the door, only to find she wasn’t ready? She hoped at least one more. But she was tired, and she had a plummeting feeling she had no more strength.

  Perhaps if she just lay here a moment or two more, she could continue. Putting her hand to her chest, she felt a vague sense of alarm. The rose wasn’t there. She twisted her head, gasping at the pain.

  She was surrounded by the debris of an exploding sand monster. It could be anywhere. She looked in the other direction, managed to rol to her side.

  There . . . was that a flash of red?

  Her lips pul ed back in a twisted half smile. As she did, she tasted her own blood and that of the creature she’d kil ed. She’d laugh if it wouldn’t hurt

  so badly. There was her pack, the rose laying neatly upon the top of it as if it had been placed there by a fussy maître d’ at a restaurant.

  And right next to it was a dried-up rose bush, the sun glittering off the red stone only half buried beneath it.

  Her serpent monster had turned out to be a blessing in disguise. In its twisting arc through the sky, it had probably carried her several miles toward her destination, closing that last gap.

  Blessings do exist here. In their usual, quite ironic way.

  At the entrance to the desert portal, Keldwyn swung off his horse, gesturing to Jacob to draw close as he unhooked a saddle bag, tossed it to him. “More weapons, water.” Pul ing a pendant from his neck, he dropped it over his head. “This makes a ten foot perimeter of invisibility around you, so you wil not be slowed down by enemies. It’s a limited enchantment, a smal magic that won’t last much longer than a day or two. I don’t suspect you’l require more than that, however. Either your mind connection wil bring you quickly to her side to help her finish the quest within the proscribed time period, or you wil be dead.” He then pul ed out a seal that, as he chanted several words, started to glow red hot. “To get in, you must have the brand of the desert prisoner. It is tailored for Fae blood only, so after I mark you with it, you need to make al haste down that tunnel, because, being vampire, you wil heal it rapidly.”

  “And to get out?”

  “That requires an executor on the outside. When Lyssa has what Rhoswen wants, that door wil open.

  Her possession of Reghan’s soul essence wil al ow her to exit. The lack of the brand should al ow you to do so, if you maintain contact with her.”

  “Should?”

  Keldwyn lifted a shoulder. “Take your chances, vampire. Unless you are suffering a sudden attack of faintheartedness.”

  In answer, Jacob extended his hand. His skin was crawling, tingling, every muscle quivering with the need to go, to get through that tunnel and find her.

  She needed him, now. Actual y, she’d needed him now an hour ago. “Do it.”

  “I wil bide here for a time, and leave runners when I must go, in case you need assistance when you emerge with her.”

  “I stil don’t trust you,” Jacob said, locking gazes with him. “But thank you.”

  “I’m sure you are aware that thanking a Fae is an insult.”

  When Jacob merely showed fangs, Keldwyn’s lips quirked. “You are correct not to trust me, vampire. It’s best not to trust anyone.” Gripping his wrist to steady the canvas he was about to mark, Keldwyn jammed the brand against the top of Jacob’s hand.

  Jacob shuddered, clenching the hand holding the saddlebag and his own pack. It was urgency more than pain, as wel as a spurt of rage that they’d done this to his lady. When Keldwyn lifted the brand, he bolted for that darkness.

  He couldn’t see, an unusual thing for a vampire, but he stil ran ful tilt forward, assuming that the desert world was hungry for its victims and wouldn’t trip him up. It didn’t, not until the end, when he stumbled, rol ed out of pitch darkness and into blinding day, right into the base of a cactus.

  “Ow, fuck.” Yanking the needles free that had driven into his side, he pul ed out the cowled robe Keldwyn had packed for him. Though it was brutal y hot, the sun reflecting the white and ecru landscape like a mirror flashing in his eyes, he wasn’t bursting into flames. So far, so good. He squinted, pul ed the hood farther over his brow to help cut the glare, then took a closer look at that cactus.

  The twisted, distorted shape was eerily familiar. It looked as if it had once been a different being, something humanlike, now forever caught inside the succulent. Two others near it had the same look. He bared his fangs in a savage grin. His lady had been here al right. But that same thought sobered him.

  She’d had to hit the ground fighting. He studied the landscape, turning slowly to make sure tricks of the light and reflected sand didn’t make him miss anything. There. He saw a blot that might have been another set of cacti, then farther on, something like a pile of sticks. A staggering but distinct line of direction, stretching away to the horizon.

  Fuck. Panic gripped him as he realized he stil couldn’t hear her. More than that, he wasn’t feeling that buzz of connection that should have been there.

  Lyssa? Lyssa, where are you? Help me find you.

  Nothing. Tightening his jaw, he started moving, fol owing her battle remains. Mindlinks with servants had a range of a few thousand miles. In this odd world, where it was possible that many magical fault lines existed, he might be in the wrong quadrant to hear her. But she’d left him a trail. Increasing his speed, he focused his energy on that. He was grudgingly grateful for Keldwyn’s pendant, keeping him invisible from whatever these things were that had attacked her. Because he sure as hel couldn’t waste time hiding. Not that there were a great many options for concealment.

  As he ran, he lengthened out to his top speed, his vampire senses taking in every detail around him like the tracking radar of a missile. He saw how the shapes of the cacti changed, his grim forboding growing when he saw how the magic dwindled, creating nightmares. The first time he detected her blood trail, he stumbled and somersaulted across the hot sand. But he forced himself to get a grip on his emotions, started running again. It wasn’t the last time he found her blood. Eventual y, it was a trail even stronger than the evidence of her skirmishes. It spurred his speed and his temper. He cursed

  repeatedly as he thought of her here alone for nearly two days, while he’d been trapped in that upper bedroom for six hours.

  He would be so fucking glad to be back in a world populated by humans and vampires, normal Greenwich time and Taco Bel s that stayed open reliably past midnight.

  What seemed too many freaking hours later, he passed through another shimmer of energy. It was the second or third time he’d done so, but this time the featureless landscape was suddenly not so featureless. A haphazard arrangement of rocks lay ahead. Even more importantly, he felt his lady.

  Though faint, the sense of that connection was a relief so strong it swept through him like a sudden cool shower under the punishing rays. But it was a brief respite, because she was so weak it was like a bad cel connection, a lot of static and dropped dead spots.

  Drawing closer, he saw the rocks weren’t rocks at al , but bone, organs, and what appeared to be large amounts of scattered gravel. Whatever it had been, it had been very, very large. Lyssa? My lady? Answer me.

  He shouted it out loud then, as wel as thinking it with such intensity that he thought he might have borrowed some of his queen’s ability to move the earth. Because after a long, heart-stopping moment, he received a response.

  It wasn’t a word—merely a sound. A quiet, dying sound. But she couldn’t die. If she was dying, he would be dying, too. Because he was her servant, to hel with the changes to the marks.

  Jacob ran across that landscape of broken pieces. He saw shards of a jaw with three rows of teeth, some of them like elephant tusks. A portion of a face, the six eyes staring, stil eerily sentient. He was fairly certain he saw one of them blink.

  When he saw her at last, he was at her side in one quick surge of movement, his hand on her face, her matted hair. “Holy Mother,” he murmured. She was impossibly bloody, her skin corpse-pale. She clutched her father’s rose, and the other hand lay on the sand next to a desiccated bush, her fingertips nearly brushing a glitter of gemstone that glowed beneath the thin covering of sand. Apparently it was responding to the rose, two splashes of vibrant red in an otherwise colorless landscape. Colorless except for her green eyes, that opened at the sight of him.

  “My lady,” he greeted her, his voice thick.

  She studied him. When her trembling fingertips brushed his knee, it was a touch so welcome he felt it through his whole body. “Hal ucination,” she said.

  “My vampire servant, here in the bright sun.”

  “No. Real y here, thanks to a bit of Fae magic.

  Turns out you needed my help after al .” Her weak cough was so obviously painful he put his hands on her shoulders, trying to hold her together. Actually, you’re a bit late. Could have used you earlier.

  He wanted to smile, but couldn’t. “I was busy cutting my way out of tree,” he reminded her.

  “You want to spend . . . your last moments with me saying . . . I told you so?”

  A fist gripped his heart, squeezed. The time to avoid the truth was done. They both knew he wouldn’t die with her. When she’d nearly been taken by the Delilah virus, he couldn’t walk, the life draining from him with her. He felt none of that now, only the empty, aching sense a vampire experienced from the imminent loss of a servant. The vampire-servant mark she’d given him had in fact been broken. He couldn’t fol ow her into eternity.