"You ready?"

Murphy took a deep breath, in and out, and rolled her shoulders back. "Yeah."

"Okay. You know I won't be able to give you advance warning, right? My hearing's probably worse than yours now. No sense of smell, either."

"I got that, yeah. I'll hear her coming. She wears heels."

"Okay. Best case, I can get her to back off; maybe buy enough time for help to get here. Failing that, I'll try to give you a shot at her."

"Still not liking my odds."

"With luck, it won't come to that."

"Yeah. Get some rest. I'll wake you up if I hear her."

I eased down onto the foam pad, trying to spare my arms and shoulders, with little success. "Karrin," I said. "One more thing."

"What's that?"

I tried to think of a way to phrase it that wouldn't sound like a pathetic emo ballad.

"If I end up—" I began, then broke off.

Karrin waited for me to continue, then sighed. "I'll look after Harry," she said quietly.

I shook my head. "It's not that," I said. "I know you will. You always have. What I'm worried about…" I started to reach up to rub my face, then stopped short, wincing at the pain. "Look," I began again. "I'm not sure what's going on with Felicia, but I'm pretty sure Lara's not aware of it, or at least, that she's not backing it. This isn't a House Raith action. Try to keep Harry from restarting the war."

"If he did, he'd probably win," she said.

"I'm sure he would. I'm not even particularly worried about the cost, compared to last time. Malvora and Skavis would stay out of it; they'd leave us twisting in the wind."

"'Us'?" she said skeptically.

"Yes," I said. "House Raith is my family. This—the Domicile in particular—is my work."

"You came up with this?"

I turned my palms up—carefully. "Not the way it is now. Felicia's fucked it up beyond all recognition. But still: this is my House. Don't let Harry burn it to the ground. Even if—especially if—I end up dead. You can tell him I said so."

"If you're dead, why do you care?"

I was silent for a moment. "There are more interests at play than mine," I said carefully. "People I care about."

Murphy snorted. "You'll have to do better than that," she said.

"Karrin," I said. "I'll do everything I can to get you out of here. And I give you my word that I had nothing to do with bringing you here, or bringing anyone here against his or her will."

"Like that matters, with the White Court."

"No. Not even like that. I'm serious about this. These people aren't slaves. Or they weren't, on my watch."

"Just because I'm not on the force any more, don't think I'm letting this go," she said.

"I know," I said. "Later. Can we call a truce long enough to get us both out of here?"

Murphy gave me a long, slow, cold look. Finally she let out a carefully controlled breath, and nodded.

I settled back down and closed my eyes. I'd thought I wouldn't be able to sleep, but the sound of Felicia's heels was almost to the door when Murphy shook me awake.

Here's what Felicia saw when she came in:

Murphy was sitting on her heels with her back to the doorway. She didn't look around when the door opened.

I was lying with my head in her lap, shirtless and barefoot, most of my top half blocked from Felicia's view. Murphy was stroking my hair (its normal color; the sun had risen while I was asleep).

Here's what Felicia couldn't see: a section of two-by-four, tucked under the foam pad, lay just a few inches from Murphy's right hand.

Murphy's face, in stark contrast to her relaxed, lazy body language, was intent, blue eyes sharp and calculating.

My chest was covered with bruises, bandages and stains, and the tiny wound from the IV in the back of my hand was still oozing blood—red, mortal blood.

Felicia slammed the door. Murphy didn't flinch. Neither did I, though it was close.

"Karrin," Felicia said sternly, as if to a dog caught with its head in the garbage can. I felt the tug of her Hunger. Murphy's eyelids dipped slightly and she clenched her jaw, but she kept stroking my hair.

"Look at me," said Felicia, taking a few more steps into the room.

"Mmm," said Murphy, doing a creditable imitation of a deeply-enthralled doe.

"Get up, Karrin," Felicia snapped. Murphy, unseen, bit her lip hard as Felicia's Hunger made itself felt. It was clumsy and unsubtle, but not actually that weak. My body tried to respond, but gave up halfway. Thank you, pain and blood loss.

"Stay, sweetheart," I murmured to Murphy. I dug my thumbnail into the base of hers. She blinked at the little stab of pain and swallowed, eyes on mine. To Felicia I said, "Did you actually need a Taser to subdue a single, unarmed mortal? What would Father say? Hell, what would any of us say? That's just embarrassing, Felicia. Have you no shame at all?"

"Shut up," she said, and I heard the rustle of fabric.

"I mean, Empty Night, I'm half-mortal myself, and she's doing just fine for me. Even with you trying to poach her. As a matter of fact—"

"Shut up, Thomas!" Felicia said.

"Okay, granted, at my best you couldn't come close to matching me, but frankly—excuse me a moment, Karrin—" I got up slowly and turned to face my cousin. "—after Archleone infected me with his designer plague, I would have expected even you could outdo me."

Felicia stared at my bruises, my bandages, my unhealed wound. "What—" she began, then glanced suspiciously over at Murphy, who was still, head bowed, apparently lost in her own little world. Felicia turned slightly in order to keep watch on both of us at once. "What happened to you?" she said. She tried to sound contemptuous, but couldn't quite pull it off.

"As I said, a little gift from your friend Nicodemus. It blocks the Hunger from healing me, so I just keep accumulating damage. I think he was testing it on me to see if it worked. I hadn't planned on sharing, but since you saw fit to stuff me in a car with your thralls, and then shut me in here with the lovely Karrin, well... I think it's only a matter of time before you get to experience it too."

Felicia's eyes widened and flashed silver. I took a step towards her.

"The incubation period seems to be pretty short. Certainly not more than a few hours, maybe less."

Felicia took a step back. "Stay where you are, Thomas." She had one hand on her taser, but hadn't drawn it yet. I stood still, watching her closely, trying not to squint. In her uncertainty she'd forgotten to keep the pressure of her Hunger on us, and I knew Murphy would be waiting for an opening.

"Didn't you do any homework before you started treating with Archleone? His reputation's no secret. He doesn't have allies. He has servants. And victims. Which are you?"

"Shut up."

"Look. Do us all a favor. Call Lara, or whoever she left in charge, and tell her to quarantine the House before this thing goes any further. Can we at least agree on that much? Or are you too caught up in your little power play to care if we all go down together?"

She didn't answer. Her gaze flicked from side to side.

"Felicia. You need to hurry. Your thralls have probably spread it to the other thralls already. Archleone said the kine would act as carriers."

"Shut up," snapped Felicia. She was backing toward the door. Too far away for Murphy to take a swing at her, but on the plus side, Felicia didn't have a clear shot with the taser either.

Except, as it turned out, at me. I took one more step forward, and she drew and fired, striking me just below the collarbone, and my own body threw me over backward as Felicia darted out the door and slammed and locked it behind her.

Karrin got her hands between my head and the floor and kept me from strangling or concussing myself. Eventually I wore down from near-convulsions to twitching to shivering and was able to take actual breaths instead of desperate little gasps.

"That... went well," I said.

Karrin chuckled. "I can't believe I ever doubted you and Harry were related," she said.

"I haven't been giving him enough credit," I admitted.

"What do you think she'll do?"

"Not sure," I said. "That was more panic than I expected from her. Wonder if she had some reason to be nervous about Nicodemus already?"

"If she freaks out and sets fire to the building, we're fucked," Murphy mused.

"Not likely. It's up to code. Sprinklers and an automated alarm system. She could disable that, but it'd take some work."

"She may just come back and shoot us. And everyone else in the building, if she believes you about the risk of contagion."

"She might. Too much work, though. Be a hell of a lot to clean up, and she'd probably have to get out of town permanently. Besides, she's got to know people are looking for you. More like her to just run and leave the mess behind her. Or... shit."

"What?"

"Um... I'm actually sort of... marketable right now."

"Lara?"

"No. Not that I know of. But I've managed to piss off various powers from time to time. The Fomor, for example. Felicia could just let them know where I am."

"Shit."

"Yeah. We need to get you out of here."

Murphy yanked on the chain. The bolt didn't budge. "Good luck with that."

"I'm thinking reinforcements are in order."

"Good idea. How do you plan on getting in touch with them?"

"Give me a minute."

I tried Molly first: resting my fingertips on my tattoo and calling her, mentally and aloud, by both name and title. Nothing. Even if I'd had something to draw a circle with (besides my own blood, which I felt I'd lost enough of already), I didn't want to call Harry. He'd come if he could, and from what Justine had said, that might well kill him.

I seethed for a while. Weakness sucks. I'd never properly appreciated not having to deal with it. I reminded myself to be less hostile to my Hunger if I ever saw him again.

"Look," Murphy said, pulling her stick of lumber out from under the foam pad. "I managed to get this loose without anyone barging in here to stop me. Maybe I can dig through to the next room and find something there we can use. It beats just sitting here."

"Go for it," I said. "If nothing else, maybe the door'll be unlocked and I can get out and find a phone, or a crowbar, or something."

"Or just get out and keep going," she said.

"Hell no," I said. "I'd like my reunion with my brother not to be a barbecue, thanks very much."

She snorted and stepped into the bathroom, and in a few seconds there was the rhythmic sound of wood punching through drywall.

I tried very hard not to think about what might have happened to Justine.