"Yes." Suddenly the dream that his mind had all but lost came back to him with shocking clarity, the golden hall and the long, lean figure in the golden robe changing into someone else, a smaller, stockier man with a handsome, open face. A face he had seen somewhere else. "b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," he muttered. "Callard." He stormed out into the corridor and down the stairs to the hall.

"Siobhan!" Andrew was coming toward him, looking worried, and he caught him by the arm. "Where is my lady?" he demanded.

"In her room, I would guess," the knight answered. "She was much shaken by the baron's death."

"The baron's death?" Tristan echoed. "What-?"

"Forgive me, my lord," Andrew said quickly. "I forgot you had not heard. The baron was found in his rooms this morning, dead.

Some of his servants confessed to Master Nicholas they had suffered a plague at his own house before they came here, but in truth, this looked like no illness I have ever seen. His throat was torn out."

Simon had come after him. "Did you tear the baron's throat out?" Tristan asked him.

"No," he answered with a bitter smile.

"My lord?" Andrew said weakly, obviously shocked.

"Find my daughter," Tristan ordered. "Take her to the priest in the chapel-stay near the cross, and surround her with knights. If any man other than myself or the duke should try to come near her, cut off his head." He thought of what Simon had told him of how Kivar had changed his shape to fool Isabel. "And if the man who comes is the duke or myself, question him closely," he finished. "Make him tell you Clare's mother's name."

"What was Clare's mother's name?" Simon asked as they pushed their way out of the hall.

"Alisande." As soon as he reached the courtyard, he broke into a run. "Her name was Alisande."

He sprinted across the bridge to the tower and up the winding stairs. "Siobhan!" He threw open the door to her room, but it was empty. "Siobhan!"

"Please, my lord." Emma came in behind him, wringing her hands. "They've gone."

He forced himself not to grab her. "Who is gone?" he asked.

"Lady Siobhan and the others," she answered. "All the ones who served Lebuin. They have escaped."

"Oh, no," Simon muttered, shaking his head.

"How, Emma?" Tristan said, putting his hands on her shoulders but keeping his tone calm. "How did they escape?"

"Some sort of tunnel, my lord," she answered. "Michael didn't want to tell me, but I made him. I begged him not to go."

"Where is this tunnel, sweeting?" Simon said. "Do you know?"

"Here," she said, meeting his gaze. "Under the druid's hill."

CHAPTER 19

Siobhan raised her torch as she rounded another sharp curve in the tunnel. "Siobhan?" Michael touched her arm. "Do you hear that?"

She listened-voices from the pa.s.sageway ahead. "DuMaine," one of the men said woefully. "We're dead."

"No one is dead," she snapped. None of the voices was Tristan, she was certain. But at least one of them was familiar. "Sean..."

She smiled just as her brother emerged from the dark, carrying a torch. "Sean!" Handing her own torch to Michael, she ran to his arms.

"Here she is," Sean laughed, scooping her up and swinging her around. "You see, Gaston? I told you she would find it."

The man she had thought herself rid of emerged from the shadows as well. "So you did," he agreed with a smile.

"Gaston found me and told me what happened to the baron," Sean explained. "My poor lamb..." He hugged her close again, kissing her hair. "Thank G.o.d you escaped."

"Sean, listen to me," she insisted, breaking free. "I have to go back."

"Are you mad?" he said, laughing. "Not this time, Siobhan. I will come back and deal with DuMaine after I know you are safe."

"I am safe with DuMaine," she said. "You and the men are not; he still means to take revenge on you. I tried to convince him you were gone, but he didn't believe me." Once again, he was staring at her as if she might have sprouted horns and started chanting the Black Ma.s.s. "But I cannot leave him. If you go, I can stop his coming after you, I know it, but even if I couldn't..." Gaston looked ready to laugh out loud. "Please, Sean," she said, catching hold of her brother's tunic and trying to ignore him. "Please, just let me go."

"What did I tell you, Lebuin?" Gaston said. "The demon has bewitched her."

"Be quiet!" she ordered, drawing her sword and lunging for him.

"Siobhan, stop!" Sean said, catching her as Gaston sprang back, his eyes wide with shock.

"Don't listen to him, Sean," she said, struggling to break her brother's grip. "The man is poison-even Callard himself did not trust him!"

"It may be too late for her, Sean," Gaston said, an edge of true fear in his tone. "She may be a demon herself."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sean scoffed. "Siobhan, be still-"

"Don't you see?" she demanded. "He is trying to turn you against me-"

"So what if he is?" Sean said, catching her hard by the shoulders. "You are my sister, remember?" She stopped fighting as he made her face him. "No one can turn me against you or you against me." He framed her face in his hands. "Is that not so?"

He means Tristan, she thought, her heart twisting with pain. Even if he doesn't know it, that is who he means. "Yes," she answered, barely louder than a whisper.

"Come with me now, Siobhan," he said. "I am not leaving without you."

"Yes." She looked over his shoulder to Gaston. "I will come with you."

Michael hung back to guard the rear without a torch, so he was the only one who saw Gaston stop to look around the chamber. "Of course," the courtier muttered, a strange light in his eyes. "How can I have forgotten? This way is already shut." He stepped on the skull of one of the skeletons, crushing it under his boot. "But no matter. There is another." He looked back to find Michael watching and smiled. Without a word, he turned to follow the rest.

Siobhan stood in the moonlit grove, watching the men load the last of her brother's stolen treasure from the stash in the caves onto horses. "This is a mistake," she said softly to Michael, standing beside her. "You should go, all of you, now." She thought of Tristan discovering her gone. He would think she had betrayed him, that all her words of love had been nothing but lies. "Holy Christ," she whispered, raising a hand to her eyes.

"Aye, love," Michael answered grimly. "We should be gone, and we should leave that lunatic behind." Gaston was now standing in the middle of the circle of trees, gazing up at the moon with his strange little smile on his face. "His master dying has cracked his wits at last."

"Sean," she said, going to her brother. "Why do we need this now? We should be gone."

"I will need gold to hire mercenaries," he answered as if he thought her own wits had gone dim. "We will need twice as many troops to take the castle a second time; DuMaine will be prepared."

"Sean..." Before she could form an argument to this madness, a strange sound made both of them turn. Gaston had begun to sing, a kind of tuneless chant in a language she didn't understand. "What in the name of h.e.l.l...?"

His voice grew louder, filling the grove, and all of the men stopped what they were doing to watch him as if spellbound. "Gaston, stop it," she said, moving forward. "Sean, make him stop." A queer, milky light rose up in pillars from the ground in a circle around them, a pillar before every tree. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d, what are you doing?" He looked back at her and smiled, but his song went on. She staggered as the ground beneath her feet began to shake. "Sean!" She turned to find her brother looking back at her, eyes wide, but the others were smiling or had no expression at all.

"What is it?" Sean demanded as if she should know. Inside each pillar of light, the ground broke open, and a thicker, greener light in the shape of a man shot out. "Holy Christ!"

"Draw your sword!" she called to him as she did the same, and he obeyed as if breaking out of a trance. The men were moving toward the lights as if walking in a dream. "Stop them!" She reached out and caught hold of Michael's arm, and he flung her away hard enough to knock her to the ground. "Michael, stop!" She flung her dagger at him, stabbing him through the thigh, and he fell, howling in pain. "What are you doing?"

He looked at her as if waking from a nightmare. "G.o.d's truth, I don't know." The others had reached the writhing lights and stepped inside, swords and daggers drawn. With a flash like lightning, each one changed, growing taller, with short, thick swords like Siobhan's.

"Behold our army, children!" Gaston laughed, but the voice was not Gaston's. "Now we will take your castle."

As if in answer, three great horses galloped into the circle. "Siobhan!" Tristan shouted, striking as one of the ghost warriors attacked. "Get back!" He lopped the man's head from his shoulders. Then in an instant, he was sitting up, putting his head back on his shoulders to become the ghost warrior again.

"Tristan, look out!" she screamed as he attacked again, knocking her love from his horse.

"Take the woman!" Gaston shouted, laughing with delight as he pointed toward Isabel's horse. "Bring her to me!"

"No!" Siobhan screamed, not certain where to attack first. "Sean, fight them!"

"We can't!" he shouted back. "They are our men!" "We have to!" She plunged her sword into the back of one of the half-dozen creatures attacking Tristan, and this time when he fell, he stayed down, a mortal man writhing in pain. "We can hurt them, but Tristan cannot!"

"Good!" Sean said, still standing back with his sword in his hand.

"Idiot!" More ghosts were rising from the cracks in the earth, ethereal but armed with swords. Simon was trying to fight his way to Isabel, but the ghosts swarmed over him like locusts, dragging him off his horse. "Sean, please!"

"Oh, b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," he grumbled, plunging into the throng around Isabel's horse.

Tristan saw Lebuin going after Isabel. With an oath, he drew his dagger, ready to fling it through the brigand's throat. Then he realized he meant to save her.

"Tristan!" Siobhan was still trying to reach him, fighting like she might have been a demon herself. One of the ghosts tried to lunge past her, and she ducked, driving her shoulder hard into his chest to knock him backward to the ground before stabbing him through the thigh. Behind her, he saw one of the ghosts strike Orlando from his horse, knocking him unconscious to the ground.

"Be careful!" Tristan tried to shout, but before the words were out, a blade had slashed across his throat. The same freezing fire he had felt when Siobhan struck him with her enchanted sword engulfed him as blood poured from the wound. He staggered to his knees, and more ghosts swarmed over him, stabbing him from every side.

"No!" Siobhan screamed, seeing him fall. The man she had struck was a human at heart, and her blow had brought him back to himself, clutching his gushing wound. But the cracks were still pouring out more ghosts by the moment, more than she could have cut down in a year. Simon's horse was rearing and screaming, striking at a teeming pile of greenish bodies writhing like snakes at his feet.

"Simon!" she heard Isabel sob. Sean was still trying to reach her, but the ghosts were fighting him back, and his sword was not enchanted. They dragged Isabel to Gaston, waiting with his dagger drawn. Meeting Siobhan's gaze with an evil smile, he grabbed Isabel's arm and slashed the blade across her wrist, driving her bleeding to the ground. Immediately the ghosts seemed to grow stronger, more solid, and the milky light in the clearing grew brighter, more like daylight.

"No!" Siobhan screamed, running forward. Without thinking, she drew the stake from her belt with her free hand. Gaston turned just as she reached him, and she drove the stake with all her strength into his heart.

"Good girl," he gasped, laughing, as she raised the sword. "Now finish me."

"My pleasure," she snarled, striking off his head.

The corpse fell backward, the head rolling away. Isabel screamed as a cloud of thick black mist poured out of the severed neck and gathered around Siobhan.

Tristan drove his hand through the spongy breast of the ghost bending closest over him, clutching at what felt like the heart and yanking it out in his fist. As the creature screamed and reared away, he saw Siobhan engulfed in a cloud of black. "No!" he roared, trying to stand.

"No!" Sean echoed, rushing forward. Siobhan could barely see him, could barely breathe. The mist was in her nose and mouth, drowning her, worming its way inside. She staggered, dropping her sword.

Suddenly Sean tackled her, shoving her aside. In a moment, the mist had released her, rushing into him instead. His eyes went wide, but he did not make a sound.

"Sean?" She touched his arm. "Sean, dear G.o.d, are you all right?"

"Enough!" he shouted, and the ghosts began to fade. The light was fading from the grove, and the cracks in the earth were closing up."It's all right," Siobhan said, falling to her knees beside Isabel, still bleeding on the ground. "It will be all right now." The green light was bleeding into the ground and disappearing, leaving the men looking as they had before, only dazed.

"Bring the girl," Sean ordered. "Tie the wizard to his horse." Tristan and Simon were both lying p.r.o.ne on their backs, the ground around them soaked with blood.

"Sean, we have to help them." She rushed to Tristan's side, and he looked up at her, his eyes clouded. "Tristan..." She laid a hand against his cheek, her throat thick with tears. "You are a demon," she reminded him. "You cannot die."

"Sean..." His throat had been cut, and his voice came out a strangled growl. "Not Sean..."

"What?" She turned to find her brother standing over her, holding his sword.

"I would have spared you." His voice was cold, the voice of a stranger. "You did not have to die."

She lunged for her sword, and he stabbed her through the stomach. "Sean," she whispered, falling to the ground. This can't be happening, she thought, her body going cold. This can't be real. He picked Isabel up by one arm and flung her over his shoulder.

"Sean, please..." Pain was spreading from her stomach like a freezing fire, making her feel sick. She spit out her own blood as Sean mounted his horse, Isabel flung over the saddle before him, limp as a corpse herself.

Not dead, Tristan thought, fighting with all his will to move. Not dead yet. If he had been Simon, he supposed he would have stopped to think about the consequences of what he meant to do, sift through the layers of heaven and h.e.l.l. But for himself, he did not have the time. Siobhan collapsed beside him, coughing blood, and he reached for her, closing his fist around her arm.

"Fight," he ordered. His voice was clearer now; he was slowly healing. But not fast enough, not if she did not fight to stay alive.

"Fight, Siobhan."

She pressed her cheek against his arm, wishing he would hold her, make her warm. "So cold," she whispered, tasting blood.

He rolled to his side, the pain in his own stomach making him feel faint. But his body obeyed him now; he could move. "Fight, brigand," he ordered again, making himself sit up. Rolling her onto her back, he drew her up into his arms.

"Yes," she murmured, clinging to him. The pain was less now, but the cold was terrible. "So good..." His arms were warm around her...how could a vampire feel warm? "Dying," she realized. "I'm dying, Tristan."

"No, you're not." He turned her face up to his, making her look at him. "You will not leave me," he promised, smiling down on her. "I will not let you go." He lifted her wrist to his mouth, sinking his fangs into the vein, and she cried out, struggling against the pain. But he held her fast, feeding until her heartbeat was no more than a flutter, his own strength returning with the blood. "Time to fight now, brigand," he said, his voice rough with love as he touched her cheek. "Time to live." He cut a gash over his own heart with his dagger and gathered her close, pressing her mouth to the wound. She made a sort of kitten's sound of protest, trying to push him, to turn her face away. Then he felt her taste the blood. Her teeth sank into his flesh, and a jolt of power like nothing he had ever felt raced through him, making him dizzy with love. Mine, he thought, cradling her close. Forever...

She lifted her head at last, the terrible power pulsing through her, making her feel drunk. Tristan was looking down on her, smiling but with tears of blood glistening red on his cheeks. "My love," she said, touching a crimson trail. "You always promised you would kill me in the end."

"Yes." He kissed her lightly on the mouth, and her arms came around him, wrapped around his neck as she wept on his shoulder.

He held her close with all his strength, his beautiful vampire love. "Now I have."