Winds that blow freely,

Bring forth your gales,

Cleanse and seal this place,

So that which would do harm may not leave this place.

In unison, the demons whirled around to face her, mouths gaping at her, eyes glowing red with hatred. They clawed at the wormlike creatures, snatching them up as the cleansing wind began to whirl around the room. Shrieking in fury, the demons thrust the worms into their mouths, gobbling fast in an effort to get something in return for their daylong vigil. Even as they devoured the worms, they rushed toward the opening where she stood unflinching, her hands as graceful as ever, determination in her every move as well as in her voice.

The demons hit an invisible barrier and were pulled back toward the center of the room. The wind whipped around the walls of the room in a circle, traveling faster and faster, howling, seeking prey. It caught at the shadowy figures and tugged, dragging at their reluctant forms, pulling them apart until they looked more like dust particles scattered in the air.

Still the shrieking could be heard. The walls of the room swelled outward. The ceiling raised higher, the bloodied runes writhing, looking as if they were alive and making an effort to counteract Branislava’s commands. She kept the wind building speed, calling once more for aid from above.

That which is bound by darkness,

I call forth light.

Fire that burns and cleanses bright.

I call forth your energy, separate and dispel,

That which would be bound, sending it back to hell.

The particles in the room slowly began to be drawn into the very vortex of the wind, spinning faster and faster, a funnel of black sand and shadow. Hands emerged, great long bony fingers tipped with claws, and just as suddenly were pulled back into the maelstrom. Faces pressed through the twister, mouths screaming, eyes distorted and then those too disappeared.

Branislava kept the pressure on, building on the power fed to her by Tatijana, Skyler and Ivory. She refused to relent, again weaving symbols in the air, the pattern intricate, a replica of the runes written in blood on the walls and ceiling, but in reverse order.

As fire burns and ashes fall,

I call forth the abyss, hear my call.

Open your maw so that I may return,

That which was born of blood and must be returned.

Heat burst through the room. Orange-red flames danced up the walls and licked across the ceiling, devouring the runes. As the fire spread and leapt higher, the demons shrieked and moaned in protest. The cleansing wind continued rushing around the room, howling in fury, fanning the flames until every last rune was consumed. The demons tried to flee the firestorm, but the winds were too strong for their insubstantial bodies. They were drawn in by the ferocious gale and consumed by the flames.

Branislava drew a deep breath and allowed the wind and flames to slowly subside. She felt her legs tremble. Turning, she went into Zev’s arms, uncaring who was watching and might see her weakness—her vulnerability. She needed the comfort of his strength, of the rock that he was for her.

“I know now what the three of them were doing when Xavier seemed to kill Xaviero and then Xayvion,” she murmured into Zev’s shirt. She lifted her head and looked at her sister with stricken eyes. “They were practicing bringing each other back from the other side. That’s what Ivory saw. They were practicing for a time just like this one.”

“Do you mean he intends to bring Xavier back?” Razvan asked. His voice was steady, his face expressionless.

“He needs a soul, or a spirit,” Tatijana said. “To send down the tree of life.”

“Arno, a council member?” Zev asked. “Or his son, Arnau, an elite hunter?”

Branislava sighed and pulled herself out of his arms. “No, Zev. He means to trap you or me. Once he extracted the information from Arno, and he knew I was his enemy, he knew he had the ideal person for his plan. He wants the two of us dead. I have mage blood. Xavier is my father. He would recognize my soul or my spirit immediately. Xaviero is probably rubbing his hands with glee right at this very moment.”

Zev shook his head. “Well, he doesn’t get you or me. Too bad for him. If he wants to see his brother so badly, we’ll just have to arrange a little trip for him.”

“What’s next, Branislava?” Fen asked.

“We go in, just Zev and me. There’s no point in risking anyone else. If we fail, Tatijana and Fen should just burn the body right from the doorway. There has to be another trap set inside, around the body itself. He knows someone will attend the body.”

“Can you build a circle of protection around the body before you touch it?” Skyler asked. “At least then, while you’re doing whatever needs to be done, you can’t be attacked from outside the circle.”

Branislava inclined her head with a small smile. “I think that’s a good idea, little sister-kin. Wish us luck.” She turned and hugged her sister fiercely.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” Tatijana whispered. “Right here. I’ll be waiting.”

Zev stepped through the doorway first. She knew he would. Of course he would. He wasn’t about to allow Branislava to go into danger without checking it out himself. She followed him, one hand fisted in his shirt as she stepped into that demonic room. Her breath left her lungs in a rush of fear. It was a gut reaction she couldn’t stop, and Zev instantly flooded her mind with warmth and assurance.

“I can feel him, Zev, that’s all. I’m all right,” she declared. “His presence is strong in this room. It just threw me for a minute, that’s all.”

Zev crouched beside the body, hands reluctantly keeping away from Arno, even though she felt his need to touch the man in a kind of salute. He looked at her over his shoulder. “I’ve got this one, Branka. I’m your detail man, remember?”

She nodded. Zev knew Arno far better than she did. If there was something out of place he would spot it. “Take your time,” she cautioned. They couldn’t afford a mistake.

“The stake isn’t right,” he said. “The cord holding his medallion of the Sacred Circle isn’t the one he normally wears.” Without touching the fallen council member, Zev peered closer, studying the small intricate tattoo on Arno’s wrist. “This isn’t right, either, Branislava. Can you look at this for me? I’ll show you what it should look like and you tell me what’s different and why.”

In his mind, Zev produced an exact replica of the Sacred Circle tattoo worn on the wrist by every member. He felt Branislava look it over carefully before she studied the one on Arno. He heard her suck in her breath sharply.