There had been a practical reason behind my breakfast binge. Disgusting the Denarians had just been a fringe benefit.

I needed every calorie I could get to fuel the magical triathlon I was about to run. Not only run, but run completely solo. My supernatural steroid in the form of Lasciel was untouchable this time around. I tried not to rely on her too much on principle. It'd make me lazy, wind us together more inexorably than we already were. One whiff of brimstone and the game was up. They'd know.

Lasciel was always there in spirit. My cheerleader and phone-a-friend extension all in one. She'd help me as much as she could, lending me knowledge instead of power. I could only hope that my boast in the restaurant wasn't just hot air.

We stood on a ridge a mile away from the compound. The place looked like a jagged wound in the otherwise pristine landscape. Environmentalists would storm this place in a righteous fury if they could see the deforestation that had taken place to set up the stone fortress below. It was a big brown wart on the otherwise sprawling, verdant landscape.

We'd been sheltered behind a blind for the last hour, watching the mercenaries during their shifts. We were starting to get a feel for their movements and some of their tells. Most of them held the indolent posture of security that had worked too many long, boring hours. There were a few who kept to attention, doing their due diligence but not enough. The crucial seconds that they were unwary would be their downfall.

I could probably have hidden us better behind a veil, but Nicodemus hadn't wanted to waste any of the energy required to undo the network of spells that waited inside. I couldn't come up with a witty retort, so I let it go.

We were all suited up for war. Nixon, Salem, and Thorn could have blended into any SWAT team, done up as they were in their dark uniforms and body armor. I'd spelled at least some of it, though it was nowhere near as complex as the stuff on my corset jacket. It didn't really need to be. The bullet-proof vests were the best that money could buy and the extra spellwork was just meant to ward off magical attacks. Unless there was a wizard among the mercs, I thought they were probably as safe as they could be for now.

Hannah was wearing a jacket similar to mine, spelled in exactly the same way. She'd tried to pay me for the work put into it, but I wouldn't accept. We were soldiers, fighting the same war. She needed the dexterity for on the fly magic and I had the perfect solution. She was armed with a revolver, just in case, though I doubted that she'd need it. Hannah had an enviable precision to her combat skills that I craved. She had her hair pulled away from her face in a style that managed to look effortless, though I knew it had taken some doing to tame her curls.

I was armed as well, the gun in a holster and my sword sheathed at my waist. Nicodemus had examined it very briefly when we'd donned our battle gear on the other side of the way. I felt like a jigsaw that the man was slowly piecing together. Heaven help me if he ever saw the big picture.

There were two major differences between Hannah's preparation and mine. First, she wasn't sporting the fancy experimental footwear I'd been working on. I wasn't entirely sure that the spells I'd laced into the tread would actually work the way they were intended. So only one of us would make a massive tit out of themselves if it failed. And the second difference was the bandolier I wore and the utility belt at my waist.

Instead of extra ammo the bandolier now stored sixty unwrapped mini Slim Jims. The utility belt contained no less than six mini bottles of the energy potion that Lasciel had helped me brew the night before. They'd taste like utter crap, but would reduce the amount of fatigue I felt. None of them lasted long, but I was hoping that the overkill would at least allow me to remain standing until the end of the day. If we made it out of this alive Nixon could drag my tired ass all the way back to Belize while I snored and I wouldn't feel an ounce of shame for it.

Hannah eyed my getup with a sigh. She was doing a lot of that these days.

"I don't think I've ever seen you react to a mission like this."

I shrugged one shoulder. "Vampires I get. Not saying that they're easy enemies or anything but...I understand them. I know how to beat them. An enemy that Nicodemus Archleone doesn't want to face without backup is one that I don't want to underestimate. If I overdid it I look silly. If not, it could save my life."

Nicodemus was looking at me again. Worse still, Anduriel was looking too. It was a struggle not to turn my gaze to meet his. My gaze was dangerous enough without the addition of my wizard's sight. My eyes would scream the truth at him.

I know you. I hate you. I want to watch you die slowly as you beg for mercy. You deserve it you evil piece of shit.

I felt it when his gaze cut away from my face and the knot of dread that curled tight in my stomach loosened just a fraction.

"Deirdre," he murmured. Just the one word.

The blade-thin girl disappeared into the Fallen's battle form, green scales spreading quickly over her skin, her dark hair fanning out all around her, transforming from soft, dark locks to blades about an inch in width and stretching ten or twelve feet in length. The thing had oddly jointed legs and four-fingered hands that ended in panther's claws.

I recoiled from her, even though I knew exactly what to expect. I didn't react half as badly as Thorn or Nixon, who both cursed quite loudly. Their hands flinched toward their guns before their reason caught up with the primordial terror that this thing struck into one's lizard brain. I had an added measure of disgust as well, knowing that I could transform into something equally deadly, if pressed.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Rending claws. Pale skin parting like rice paper, arteries spurting bright red blood...

Crap. I didn't need this right now. I shoved the memory away as hard as I could, boxing it up for later. I'd deal with it when I had time. When I opened my eyes again, three sets of eyes were staring at me. Nicodemus', the cherry red of Deirdre's demon form, and a set of phosphorus green that belonged to the Fallen.

"Sathariel," Lasciel informed me.

Huh. Nifty. But not really relevant at this point.

"Miss Lenhardt?" Nicodemus inquired pleasantly. "Are you quite alright? You look ill."

I stepped further away from both of them. "Fine. You could have freaking warned us."

"Hear, hear," Hannah said breathlessly.

"Apologies."

Yeah right.

"Deirdre will accompany Mr. Thorn, Mr. Dixon, and Miss Salem. Catch any stragglers that manage to escape. Miss Lenhardt and Miss Ascher will be with me."

Ick. I did not like the sound of that. In my effort to remain hypervigilant during our journey through the way, I hadn't actually asked Lasciel to go over what Nicodemus might have planned for us.

On cue, my comrades stalked forward through the brush, stealthy and quick as cats, disappearing after a few feet. They could all employ competent enough veils to fool human senses. They wouldn't need it. Not against purely human foes, though there were quite a number of them. I leaned forward, tasting my pulse at the back of my throat. I wanted to hustle every single one of them back to Belize. I had the horrible premonition this mission was going to get them killed.

I wanted a pair of binoculars. At this range I could only see shapes and colors as my friends fought their way through the lines of mercenaries. Time was indeterminate, my heartbeats flying by too quickly to be an accurate measure. Nicodemus had predicted five minutes maximum between the attack and the breaching of the first set of doors. Had five minutes passed? Or were my friends all choking on their own blood by now?

Nicodemus made a pleased little humming sound in the back of his throat. Then he extended both hands, one toward Hannah and another toward me. I gave it a wide berth, like it might spontaneously turn into a wriggling, hissing roach.

"With me, if you would, ladies," he instructed.

Hannah took his hand after only a moment's hesitation. I just stared at the hand for a too-long second. These hands had been used to torture Shiro. Had wielded a sword meant to kill my father. The greasy remnants of my bacon shimmied their way up my throat. I didn't want to do this.

"Miss Lenhardt?"

"I'm not the holding hands kinda girl," I hedged. "Can we, uh, fist bump?"

Nicodemus' hand shot out and clamped down around my wrist without warning. His grip was implacable, unshakable though I tried to yank my hand back purely on reflex. He tugged me close, wedging me beneath his arm. I panicked, bucked, tried to get away, my mind deciding that he had to know and now he was trying to kill me.

The next instant shadows seethed all around us and we parted ways with the ground. It felt like I was being hoisted skyward by a pair of strong, capable hands while my body lay cradled in something very like a hammock. The journey lasted all of ten seconds and then I was plopped down before the stone walls of the compound. My legs wobbled, attempted to buckle, and then I quashed the cowardly attempt at last.

"The hell?" I spluttered at him.

"Anduriel," Lasciel explained. "One of his many abilities."

Anduriel's form was like a living blanket of night, stretching over Hannah and I. Ah. So that was how he intended to keep us dry and toasty. Again, a warning might have been nice.

Nicodemus' lips curled in a fiendish little grin for a second before he schooled the expression. Clearly someone was enjoying a little schadenfreude.

"Inside. It is your turn, Miss Lenhardt."

Right.

I was relieved to see Nixon, Thorn, Salem, and Deirdre approach from our right. Thorn has a cut beneath one eye, and Salem had a bullet graze on one arm. But other than that, they appeared alright. Nixon was either unhurt or had been hit someplace the blood wasn't easily visible. Deirdre looked both unharmed and unfazed. Blood dripped off the edge of the nearest hair-blade. I shuddered. How many of the poor bastards had she killed? How many new murders had I become a party to?

I edged along the door and lingered. The inside of the compound looked as Spartan and bare as the outside. It was mostly a slab of undecorated dirt, with a few sheds dotting the place. A few decorative orbs that you see in gardens. What might have been the entrance to a staircase that descended belowground, and three doors that led into unknown space beyond. Though I couldn't see the source I could feel the buzz of magical power inside.

I concentrated and opened my sight.

Color and sensation slammed into me so hard that I took a step back, gasping. To my sight, the space just beyond looked like a spider's web. Enchantment draped the entire place, leaving gaps of only a few feet or so unaffected. It was enough to navigate my way through.

At least, that was what I thought at first. Then only ten seconds later the web rippled, shifted, and then formed an entirely new pattern, with new places unguarded. It did it several times as I watched, blinking stupidly. Complex spellwork indeed. I wasn't sure if I could do something like this if I had a year and all of Lasciel's considerable knowledge at my disposal.

"Well?" Thorn hissed. "What's in there?"

"A dragnet," I whispered back. "A really, really complex and shifting dragnet. Multiple layers of enchantment, every single one of them unpleasant. From what I can tell they're fixed to that orb there."

I pointed at the orb in the corner furthest from us. It was patterned like a mosaic with purple and green glass. It glinted at me, seemed to mock me.

"Can you undo it with the sword you took from that warden?" Hannah asked.

I shook my head. "They're all interwoven. I try to cut one I trigger the others. I have to smash that orb. Be patient with me. I'll figure out the pattern. Nothing is ever totally random."

It took an agonizingly long time, even with Lasciel's help, to figure out how the shifting spellwork functioned. Even once I'd parsed it out, I was still uneasy. Ten seconds between every shift. One false step would be deadly. Not only would I have to be clever, I'd have to be inhumanly fast or know the spell to counter it. Lasciel could assist me, make me faster than the average human. But again, it was a dead giveaway. I was intensely grateful I'd packed my fancy footwear.

The enchantments in the tread were built to trap energy as I walked. I'd been charging these up on the half-hour walk through the way and would definitely have enough charge to go fast. But the precision I'd need would be incredible. Too long of a burst and I'd go sailing through the beams and blow the whole thing sky high or splat into a wall. I'd have to activate the spell quickly, accurately, while trying to remember the pattern flawlessly, and perform feats of dexterity that would earn me a spot in the Cirque Du Soleil.

"Lasciel?"

"I will provide the skill necessary, my host."

I released a shaky exhale.

"Hope this works," I muttered aloud.

Then I plunged inside. I twisted and then activated the spell, producing a small starburst of magic beneath my heels. To the others, it probably looked like I'd stepped on one of those crackling fireworks the Jawas played with on the Fourth of July. It took me up and above the network of spells for just an instant. Then I tucked my body, fell, and landed in the newly created space a fraction of a second after the enchantment shifted. Every hair on my body stood on end, charged by the field of magic around me. It felt like being directly under the thumb of a vengeful god, waiting for the bolt to strike.

Twist, leap, flip. Every jump took me another few feet across the courtyard. I was fortunate to have kept myself limber, or this feat would have been impossible even with help. I was just beginning to believe that I might just pull it off.

And then the bullet flashed past. The crack was so unexpected that it threw off the count and I nearly missed my next leap. The next beam brushed me on my way past and heat blossomed against my back. Fire. If I hadn't enchanted the jacket to withstand it, I'd be lit up like a sparkler. Even so, it singed off an inch of my hair on one side.

Another bullet flew past, ricocheting off the stone where I'd been standing a few seconds before. Sparks skittered in its wake. I had to finish this fast before the gunman improved his aim. I couldn't see him. Where was the bastard? Sniping me from above? In one of the sheds? I couldn't tell and I had no time to figure it out.

I had three more near misses. The guy finally got lucky on the fourth. It was the final shift before I reached the source. The bullet caught me mid-air, impacting my back like a fist between my kidneys. The enchantment held, but I went flying, knocked off course by the projectile. It was sheer dumb luck that brought me crashing down on the orb.

The spellwork flickered like a guttering candle for a moment before dying off, disappearing as the source was destroyed.

And just as soon as the way was clear, in came Deirdre, scuttling toward one of the outbuildings. I didn't see what she did next, I just heard the scream, a choked gurgle, and the heavy thump of impact. I was grateful I wasn't paying too much attention because I was sure whatever I'd see when I looked at Deirdre would be a thing of nightmares.

I struggled to my feet, checking to make sure I still had all my bits attached and all my snacks in place. The physical effort and the magical expenditure were making me tired already. A shard of glass about the size of my fingernail was lodged into my palm. I pried it loose with a grimace and then shoved two pieces of jerky into my mouth, chewed, swallowed, thickly, and did it again. I didn't stop until I'd eaten ten and washed it down with one of the stimulant potions. When that was through I did feel marginally better. I still wanted a nap, but I didn't feel like my blood sugar had taken a nosedive.

I closed my sight at last as the others began to move at the front gate.

The rest of our band filed in cautiously and then with greater confidence when fiery death didn't rain down on them from above. Nixon reached me first, extending a hand to steady me.

"You okay?"

"I will be. Don't breathe too deeply. There's blood."

Nixon glanced down at my hands, grimaced, and nodded. I'd seen him ignore more, but I wasn't going to tempt him. Not when there was more to come.

Nicodemus approached next, followed by Deirdre.

"Quite impressive." It sounded like the admission was grudging.

He didn't care for me. Good. The feeling was mutual.

"Let's get the damn bathrobe and go," I groused, stalking forward. Well, it was less of a stalk and more of a stagger, but it carried me forward.

There were three doors that we could try and seven of us. We'd have to split the numbers unevenly.

"I'll take the farthest with Catherine," Nixon said.

Yes. A thousand times yes. I didn't care what I had to face, so long as it got me the hell away from Nicodemus.

As if the evil bastard plucked the thought out of the air Nicodemus said, "Miss Lenhardt will accompany Deirdre and I."

"It'd be wiser to split the teams by skill," I gritted out. "Hannah with Salem and Thorn, Nixon and I, you and Edwina Scissorhair."

Deirdre's hair scraped together ominously like butcher's blades and she looked like she wanted to carve off my rump and use it for roast.

Nicodemus' expression didn't waver. "You have not disguised your naked contempt for this undertaking. You may attempt sabotage. Thus, I will keep an eye on you to ensure you do not step out of line."

I boggled at him, mouth swinging in the breeze, not bothering to disguise my outrage. Me? He couldn't trust me? That was rich.

"No time to debate," Hannah said brusquely and took the middle door with Salem trailing behind.

Thorn shrugged and made for the farthest door. Nixon wavered for a few seconds, helpless to do anything but go along. Hannah was right. We had little time. We'd no doubt triggered more defenses. Growling out a frustrated noise, I moved to stand shoulder to erm...stooped shoulder with Deirdre. Nicodemus brought up the rear, hand resting lazily on his sword hilt. The spot between my shoulder blades itched as I anticipated the blade in my back.

The doorway led into a corridor that was long, dank, and dark. Deirdre sent out her hair as feelers, to stab into whoever or whatever might be waiting for us within. They made contact with nothing until we reached something heavy and wooden. I could only assume it was the door because chunks fell away when she finally twisted and withdrew the blades. She'd cleared a space wide and tall enough for she and Nicodemus to clear. I almost had to stoop. I stepped out before either of them could get any urges to slice and dice me, turned, and...

Came face to face with a Bengal Tiger.