The beam of light that had been her lifeline flickered and was growing dim. The batteries in the flashlight were running low. She should probably turn it off to conserve the energy. After all, she didn't know for sure that Anthony was coming back.

At that thought, a flicker of rebellion stirred. There was thriftiness and being smart, and then there was needless paranoia. Justine had ordered him to come back with supplies, which meant he had to return. Leaving the light on, she wrapped herself in her rough blanket and sat in the corner, in the triangle of her little nest.

After that, her mind shut down, and she focused only on immediate necessities. While she tried not to eat her remaining supplies too quickly, once she had made the decision, she couldn't stop herself and practically inhaled the last of the nuts and the chocolate.

Afterward, she drank the last of her water, sparing only a little at the end to wash away the dried trickle of blood from the cut on her neck and the bite on her forearm. As she checked her wrist, she saw that the tiny puncture wounds had already scabbed over.

The food and water weren't enough. Her hollowed-out body clamored for more hydration and nutrition. In an effort to stop the discomfort, she pressed a fist into her abdomen, just under her rib cage, and huddled into a ball, but the pressure didn't help much.

The light had dimmed so that it only illuminated the area of her nest. She could sense Julian in the darkness, silently watching her, but instead of it bothering her, she almost found comfort in his regard.

She didn't care what he thought of her, and she was glad he remained silent, since usually when he opened his mouth it meant that sooner or later she would get infuriated with him, and she didn't have the energy for it right now. As long as he could watch her, it meant she wasn't alone in this horrible place.

Her gaze ran along the edge of the blanket, across the floor and followed the lines of the upended cot. Down, along and over. When she completed a circuit, she began all over again.

Julian's news had shaken her more than she liked to acknowledge. While she had known, of course, that Justine had jumped the rails, she hadn't realized just how far the Vampyre had gone.

There was no way that the details of such a significant massacre could be suppressed for long. How many people already knew about it?

Julian, of course, and the team he had taken to Justine's property, which must have been around ten or fifteen people. Then there was the human forensics team that Julian had sent in to investigate at daybreak. Xavier knew, along with whoever worked for him that he might have told. And probably a few more key people in Evenfall, like Dominic, knew what had happened.

That was too many to keep a secret. So the news of the massacre either had or would get out, and then what?

All the other members of the Nightkind council would have to decry what had happened, however they might feel about it in private.

In truth, some of the council members would be frankly indifferent. To them, attendants were inferior creatures, like pets, and no doubt they would view the killings as merely unfortunate, while others, Melly believed, were genuinely decent people, and she didn't think she was being naive.

But in public, none of them could afford any appearance of acceptance or indifference and hope to retain their seats, or maintain the successes of their businesses and the comfort of their lifestyles. The news of the massacre itself could ruin all of them, not only with the human population, but with the rest of the Elder demesnes as well.

And then what?

Melly's gaze completed another circuit. She started again.

Justine would be trying to do damage control. Maybe she could put the blame for the massacre on the one person who had gone missing Julian. But wait, that couldn't hold, because Julian had been in the public eye virtually the entire time when the murders had occurred.

So Justine might not be able to pin it on him personally, but she might try to pin it on his soldiers, who would have been in the position to carry out such orders.

No, the timing of that wouldn't sit right. Melly didn't see how it could. And Justine couldn't spin the killings as retaliation for what she had tried to do to Xavier, because that would mean she would have to admit to trying to murder a member of the Nightkind government.

She had to be on thin ice with her allies right now. They would not thank her for the increased precariousness of their own positions.

And none of them would consider backing a bid for power from her. Not in the light of current events.

That meant Justine had miscalculated badly. If the Vampyre hadn't realized that yet, then she would very soon. By her own actions, she would have alienated herself from her allies, and martial law was still in effect throughout the demesne.

She was losing her power base, and she was isolated. That meant she had no anchor, no way to achieve any of her goals, and no reason to hold back from any of her excesses.

It also meant that Melly and Julian were in an even more precarious position than she had at first realized.

Or were they? She chewed a thumbnail.

What it really meant was that the value of Melly's life had increased, while the value of Julian's life had gone down. Right now, Julian had value to Justine only if she had the time and the interest to torture him, and Melly was willing to bet that Justine was rapidly running out of both time and interest.

And Julian knew it. That canny wartime general had already parsed the value of his life against the value of Melly's. He had been so calm earlier when he had argued for Melly to use Anthony to get out, because he already believed he was going to die.

Her gaze snagged on something and stopped running the circuit. She focused on the underside of the cot.

And cocked her head.

Maybe she did have a magic bottle labeled miracles after all.

The thin mattress was meant to rest on a piece of canvas stretched to the rectangular frame and held in place by metal springs that were roughly three-quarters of the length of her little finger.

The width of the metal springs looked like it might be thinner than her broken pieces of hairpin.

Snatching a hairpin piece out of her pocket, she held it to the cot to compare. The springs were thinner. Not by much, but she didn't need much.

Halle-fucking-lujah.

If she could flatten two of the springs out on one end, she might be able to get the ends into the locks of Julian's manacles.

Screw plan B.

It was time she came up with her own plan.

Seven.

R.

ising up on her knees, she took her makeshift Vampyre stake and used the edge of one end to leverage prying off one of the springs. The task was frustrating and tedious. None of the pieces of what she had were meant to be used the way she wanted to use them, and her light source was getting dimmer by the minute.

She was concentrating so hard that Julian's voice, coming as it did out of the dark, made her jump. "What on earth are you doing now?"

If she told him, she could see all too well how that argument would go, and she didn't have the inclination or the time to waste on it.

"Never mind what I'm doing," she told him. "You focus on being held captive."

One spring popped loose and skittered across the floor. She retrieved it and started prying off another.

"Melly," said Julian. "You're cooking up something. What is it?"

"None of your business." A second spring popped loose. Feeling a real sense of hope for the first time since she'd been kidnapped, she jumped up and retrieved that one as well.

Now she needed to bend the ends at the correct angle. Sticking her tongue between her teeth, she used her stake to pin one end of a spring against the floor.

In the early 1990s, there had been a TV show, starring Richard Dean Anderson, about a genius that could make tools and bombs and shit out of ordinary, everyday items. What was the name of that show again?

Oh yeah. MacGyver.

Melly had loved that show. She whispered to herself, "I am a fucking genius."

The light grew even weaker. Her flashlight was going to give out at any moment. She worked at the spring until she had gotten one end bent out, then quickly started on the other.

"I don't feel good about this," Julian growled.

It annoyed her to no end that he sounded so damn sexy when he did that grumpy, growly thing. She used to love when he sounded grumpy-sexy.

The memory made her spine stiffen. She said, "Remind me, when did I start giving a shit about your feelings again?"

"That would imply that you gave a shit to begin with," he snapped.

Oh now, that one was too much to ignore. Her head came up, and she opened her mouth to blast him.

In the distance, a piercing, high-pitched whistle sounded, followed almost immediately by the sound of the ferals running away down the tunnel.

Real silence descended afterward, which was a major relief from all the nerve-wracking noises the ferals had been making in the background. The silence didn't last long. In the distance, a single set of footsteps sounded.

Quickly, Melly straightened everything up and draped the blanket over one end of the cot to hide what she'd done to the frame. When she was done, she tucked her stake into the waistband at the back of her trousers.

Julian told her in a quiet, clipped voice, "Whatever you're thinking of doing, just drop it and stick to our plan. Everything will be okay."

"Our plan? I don't recall agreeing to any plan." Glancing over her shoulder in his direction, she arched one eyebrow. "Don't you mean your plan? Which, by the way, sucks."

Metallic sounds came from down the tunnel. Someone was unlocking the gate. Please gods, don't let it be Justine again.

Aloud, Julian snarled wordlessly, while telepathically, he exploded. Goddammit, Melly!

Feeling almost cheerful at her success in needling him, she told him, I'm not listening to you.

When I get my hands free again, I'm going to throttle you.

Once again, I have to point out is that the smartest thing to say to the chick with the lock picks? Hush now, I'm ignoring you.

Light appeared in the tunnel and grew stronger. Despite her banter with Julian, her nerves were jumping and her stomach had tied itself up in knots. If the newcomer ended up being Justine, she thought she might throw up.

Julian must have been feeling the same kind of tension, because he finally fell silent.

She could have cried from relief when Anthony appeared. The Vampyre carried a full plastic grocery bag and a heavy-duty flashlight that was much more powerful than her cheap little one.

He glanced in Julian's direction. In the stronger light, Melly looked into the other cell as well. Julian had not only fallen silent. He hung limply in his chains, his head lowered, just as he had been before.

"I see he's still out of it," Anthony remarked. "He doesn't look very kingly now, does he?"

Fury tangled up her tongue, which was probably a good thing, as she was quite sure she wouldn't have said anything wise if she could have spoken.

After a moment, she managed to say, "Justine let the ferals feed on him too long."

Anthony directed his flashlight onto Julian. "I don't know, it looks to me like he's healing really well. She might let them feed longer next time."

Before the Vampyre could pause to think about the implications of what he had just said and wonder why Julian hadn't yet regained consciousness, she asked quickly, "Did you bring me a chicken sandwich?"

Long seconds trickled past, and she held her breath. Then Anthony's attention turned to her. Unexpectedly, he trained his light full on her, catching her in the eyes. "Yes, I did," he said from behind the light. "A really nice one. And some more chocolate too."

Blinded, she threw up one hand to shield her gaze, while part of her took note that he sounded a little odd. Like maybe he was being thoughtful, or deliberating something.

Or something?

"Thank you," she told him. "Look, do you mind pointing your flashlight away? I can't see when you're pointing it at me."

There was a pause that went on too long. "Sure," he said. He directed the light away.

Toward her little nest, and the cot.

Well, damn it. That wasn't much of an improvement.

"How's the mattress on that?" Anthony asked. "Any good?"

He was definitely acting oddly. Her people-reading meter swung to point at an orange caution sign, while she made herself give a casual shrug. "Tell you the truth, I've been too stressed to really lie down on it. I've taken some catnaps, sitting up and leaning against the wall."

Anthony told her, "Why don't you try it out right now?"

At first she didn't understand what she had heard. When she did, her stomach tied itself into tighter knots. Quietly, she asked, "What do you mean?"

Melly, Julian whispered. Be careful.

She didn't have any room to respond. All her concentration stayed fixed on Anthony, who shrugged. "I was the one who bought you the cot. I just wanted to know how nice the mattress was."

This isn't a fucking hotel, asshole, and you didn't do me any favors. She wanted to say it so badly. Instead, she offered him a tentative smile. "Can I have my food and water now, please?"

Another pause that went on too long. It strung her nerves tight.

"Sure you can," said Anthony. "I'll be happy to give it to you, just as soon as you take off all your clothes and lie down on that mattress."