"So here we are," Kate said.

"What, raiding pubs become too tame for you?" Jamie asked, smile faltering slightly.

"Let's just say I'm ready to go where I can do the most damage," Kate said. "As are my mates here. Irish all, except Jason, who's a Scot. Oh, and Max, who's a b.l.o.o.d.y Englishman, but we poured so much Guinness down his throat after a brilliant bar rout that he's almost an Irishman."

"Never," Jamie retorted with a grin. "Takes more than beer in your blood to take the English out of you."

"Takes the vampires stomping on us all," Kate replied, "to make you forget where the lad who's got your back is from."

"Well said, then," Jamie replied, his smile fading.

Skye's throat constricted. The ragged group reminded her of the ones they had fought beside in New Orleans, the ones who had died when Team Salamanca had left.

"Kate, you should know that we're on a suicide run here," Jamie said, all trace of mirth evaporated.

"Sounds like our kind of fight. Besides, Jamie, who else is gonna cover your a.r.s.e when you've run out of weapons?"

Skye bit back a snarky comment. It was good that they recruited more help. They needed to be more than just Team Salamanca if they were going to have a prayer of winning. And, she realized as she glanced behind her, she'd already brought an army of her own.

I have the witches. Jamie has the street fighters.

Poetic.

Skye nodded to herself. She liked poetic.

"The more the merrier," Skye said, holding out her hand. Kate took it. "We can do introductions after we get underway."

"Yeah, sooner I'm out of England the happier I am," Jamie said.

Skye couldn't help but laugh. The whole world had gone to h.e.l.l, and Jamie still hated England. Maybe it was true that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

CASTLE BRAN, TRANSYLVANIA.

AURORA AND LUCIFER.

With the sun soon to rise, Aurora used the excuse to retire to her private rooms. Lucifer and Dantalion had been discussing philosophy, which bored her to tears. Worse, though, they had moved on to discussing Antonio de la Cruz and speculating on what it was that made him different from other vampires.

When Aurora had first heard Antonio's name on Lucifer's lips, she'd frozen, terrified that he knew she'd briefly had Antonio in her grasp only to lose him. It was one of the many fears that she lived with, but it was the one that burned brightest. She should have brought him immediately to her master. Or killed him.

It was her fault that Antonio was free and Sergio was dead.

And if Lucifer found out, she'd end up the same way.

So she'd excused herself and retreated to her boudoir, where she paced for nearly an hour before forcing herself to go to bed. By the time the first rays of light stabbed at the blessed darkness, she was asleep.

And she was dreaming.

She found herself standing in a cell in Spain, staring at herself, vulnerable, human, awaiting trial by the Inquisition for being a Jew.

The same terror she had felt in that cell gripped her even as she watched the horrors she had once endured.

And then, in the dream, Lucifer came to her.

She shook as she watched. He spoke to her, told her what the Inquisition had planned for her. And she watched even as she remembered.

He pulled her against his chest, wrapping himself around her, m.u.f.fling her screams. He was as cold as the grave. His icy hand came over her mouth, and his other hand held her by the back of the head. She beat her fists against his chest.

He cut off her air supply, and she stopped hitting him, instead fighting wildly for air. The world dissolved into dots and blurs; her eyes rolled back, and she slumped into his arms. He loosened his hold slightly; and she began to suck air into her lungs, smelling him-the world-oranges, and roses, and pine trees. His arms were sinewy, his chest broad and muscular.

"Listen to me, Aurora Abregon," he whispered. There were more words, but she barely heard, barely understood, her fear was so great.

Gasping, Aurora let out a heavy sob. She shook her head and burst into tears. He covered her mouth with his hand again, and her body spasmed. Weakened as she was, she had no strength left to fight him.

"I can end your torment," he said, "in one of two ways. If you wish to live, nod your head. If you wish to die, do nothing."

Too exhausted to move, she lay still. He sighed and lowered his lips to her neck. A searing chill moved through her skin and crept into her blood. It burned. She didn't know what he was doing, but she whimpered.

"Do you wish to live?" he whispered.

Aurora nodded.

And as she watched and dreamed, she remembered the most important thing of all.

She had no memory of choosing to live.

She had nodded. She remembered nodding. But had it been her body spasming for air, her will to survive subverting her mind? Could Lucifer have been moving her head himself?

Aurora began to scream inside her dream. Because she didn't know. She didn't know if she had chosen. Or if he had chosen. Or if she had even known that she was choosing.

But she knew that she had never known what the choice truly was.

"He did this to me!" she screamed.

Silently.

And then she woke up, panting, gasping. She no longer needed the air, but her remembered self had needed it so desperately that she could almost feel her lungs burning.

She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, but didn't get up. She sat there, staring into the darkened room, remembering that night so long ago.

The night he had freed her.

When in truth he had enslaved her.

Rage and hatred and fear coursed through her. But in the end the fear won. He had thought her a fighter, but in his presence she was too afraid to fight. So she manipulated, schemed, seduced.

Her dark and glorious lord was far darker than she had let herself remember.

"And what were you thinking so hard about just now?" Lucifer asked suddenly from beside her.

She stiffened. She had never even heard him enter the room. She lowered her eyes, terrified that he might read the truth in their depths.

"I was thinking of you, and how overpowering my love for you is."

"Ah."

She licked her lips and continued. "Deeper than an ocean, higher than a mountain," she babbled, and what was worse, it sounded like some horrific song lyric. She hoped it wasn't. That would just be the most degrading thing ever.

More degrading than being locked in that cell, forced to choose?

She shook her head sharply, trying to dislodge the voice that seemed to mock her.

"What?" he asked.

"Words escape me to tell you how much I love you," she said, fighting to hide the tremor in her voice.

He placed a finger underneath her chin. "And what will you do, my darling, to prove this great love?"

Aurora felt the icy hand of fear on her even as she forced herself to smile up at him. Only one answer sprang to mind, and she went with it. "Why, bring you the traitor Antonio, of course."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

Blood on neck, blood on hands

b.l.o.o.d.y wounds across the lands

The scars we leave will never heal

The tortured pain you'll always feel

And count your blessings yet you must

We could have left you ashes and dust

For life itself is the cruelest game

And played by us, ne'er twice the same

TRANSYLVANIA.

JENN, ANTONIO, HOLGAR, NOAH, FATHER JUAN, AND ESTHER.

"The natives are restless," Jenn tried to joke, as wolf howls echoed through the monastery dining room. They'd been keeping it up since sunset. Her teeth were on edge. It was a couple of nights until the full moon, but apparently Viorica's werewolf pack was getting a head start.