She gritted her teeth and suffered through it. She was able to hold on to her rage only because it was obvious from the Fae’s flat, bored expression that the search had no sexual undertones. There was no way she could have sneaked a thin, flat lock pick in with her if she’d tried.

They locked her in the room. She shook out a blanket on the bare mattress and fell on it, listening as the two Fae spoke to each other in their Celtic-sounding language. One set of footsteps walked away, hopefully to bring her some kind of sustenance. She was going to have to choke down whatever they brought her so that she could stabilize and get ready for the next steps, whatever those were. She hoped it wasn’t meat.

It looked to be evening outside, gray and leaden with the promise of rain, which left the room shadowy. Her gaze tracked across the bare walls as she rested. Dragos? she tried. Are you there?

Nothing but a deadened silence. What did that mean? Cautiously she expanded her awareness. She couldn’t feel anything, no land magic, no other Fae, nothing but the chill heavy blanket of Urien’s Power. Was he able to suppress magic in his vicinity? If so, that was a pretty handy self-defense mechanism.

Her eyebrows rose as she looked down at herself. She wasn’t glowing. He must be able to suppress magic but not undo those spells already in place. Whatever the specifics, she was guessing he could sense any nearby upsurge in Power.

She went over her story again. Hey, peanut, get me under pressure and I rock.

But the story wouldn’t hold up for long. For one thing, she didn’t know the extent of Adela’s knowledge about her or how deeply the witch was involved with the Dark Fae. If she knew anything of the truth, sooner or later Pia had to assume she would tell Urien.

And about that Elven connection. Ferion knew of her real heritage, had spoken to the Elven High Lord and Lady and had been present at the teleconference. Did she dare hope that Urien’s Elven contact was not Ferion? He had treated her with such warmth. Did that mean he would not have spoken of her to the Fae King?

She tried to remember what Ferion had said aloud at Folly Beach and what he had said during their private telepathic conversation. She couldn’t. That was worrisome. But at least it looked logical that Ferion was not Urien’s Elven connection.

There were too many unknown variables, and not least among them was the fact that she didn’t have truthsense. Urien could well have been playing her or lying for his own reasons. So the only thing she dared hope for was that she had bought herself a little time.

Footsteps approached. She sat up as a key grated in the lock. Thing Two took a step inside. He set a tray down on the floor. He stepped out and locked the door again. She checked the contents of the tray.

Half a loaf of plain dark bread, apples and more water. Score.

She fell on the food. The bread was maybe a day old as it was just beginning to go stale, but it was still chewy and grainy and delicious. The apples were wonderful. They had a quality that made her think they were from an Other land, perhaps even this place. She ate everything, drank half the water and felt an immediate energy surge. Way better.

Now what? There were two ways out of this room. She pushed the tray against the wall so she wouldn’t knock over the last of her water. She went to inspect her window.

She stared, hardly daring to believe her luck. The bars on the window were on the outside of the glass pane. They were two simple vertical metal grills with supporting crossbars at top and bottom. They were hinged on either side of the window and secured with a padlock and metal chain wound around the end bars. What they looked like were replacements for old-fashioned window shutters. Someone had prepared this room for her arrival.

She eased the window open as quietly as she could and then paused to listen. Her two Fae guards continued to talk, undisturbed.

Urien might be able to suppress magic, but her mother had always said that magic versus intrinsic natural ability was a tricky thing to define, and in her demonstration Dragos hadn’t been able to feel her do anything. She took hold of the padlock and pulled. It fell open.

She slipped the lock off and unwound the chain. She hefted it, considering. It was nice and solid, more than a good yard in length. She doubled it, wound one end around her hand and swung it to get the feel for its weight.

It wasn’t a bad weapon for someone low on options. She dropped the padlock on the bed, drank the rest of her water and eased the metal grill open a couple of inches as she tried to peer down at the ground surrounding the house.

Either Urien or whoever was in charge of his security was clever enough to keep the area around the house free of shrubbery. The landscaping wasn’t very attractive, but it also didn’t give anyone a place to hide. She pulled back as a guard came around the corner and walked by underneath. Her luck only went so far, it seemed.

She watched for a while, counted to estimate the passage of time and kept track of the guards. The fifth guard was the original one, so there were four outside guards, one to a side, as they patrolled in a circle. Four plus Thing One and Thing Two, the inside guards at the windows in the meeting hall and no doubt some she hadn’t seen. Maybe Urien had a total of twenty men with him, a reasonable number if he wanted to move fast and quiet.

The way she looked at it, she had two choices: She could lock herself back in and bide her time, which was dicey. Or she could jump out the window, take out a guard fast and run like hell was after her. Extremely dicey.

She had no defenses or options if she stayed. She would be at the Fae King’s mercy and the story she had spun had its own built-in time bombs. And she didn’t dare come under any closer scrutiny. She couldn’t bear to think what would happen if he discovered she was pregnant with Dragos’s child.

So, in reality, she had no choice at all.

She watched the guards rotate again. Which one looked the sleepiest, the slowest, the most incompetent? Damn, they all looked good.

Well, dying just wasn’t an option. She was fighting for two now. “Hang on, peanut,” she whispered, bracing her foot on the windowsill.

As the next guard walked by, she pushed open the metal grill and leaped out. The thud as she hit the ground had the guard raising his crossbow even as he turned around.

He was fast.

She was faster.

She spun and used every ounce of centrifugal force she could muster as she lashed at him with the chain. She could tell by how it struck him in the temple that he was dead as he hit the ground.

She felt nothing, no mercy, no remorse, as she watched his body crumple. Huh. So this is what a killer instinct feels like.

Alrighty.

She snatched up his crossbow and assessed it at a glance. It was already loaded, a modern compound bow, light and sleek, with a telescopic sight and a quiver mounted to the main arm that held half a dozen bolts. She knew this weapon.

Hey.

Heart pounding, she sprinted for the corner of the house where the next guard would appear in just a few seconds. She pressed her back against the wall, took a deep breath and waited with the crossbow up.

She came face-to-face with the next Fae guard as he rounded the corner. His eyes went wide. She shot him point-blank and peeked fast around the corner.

From the glimpse she had of that section of the house it was longer, and there was part of another building visible nearby. Perhaps that was a stable? Where would they keep those dragonfly thingies, inside a building or outside?

She pulled back, reloaded the crossbow and counted.

Four ten thousand, three ten thousand, two ten thousand . . .

She couldn’t hear him but the guard had to be there. She rolled around the corner, shot him and yanked his body around, piling it on top of the other guard. She reloaded and counted.

She couldn’t believe it when the last guard dropped. She stared at his body, grateful that she was still numb. She had just killed four people in as many minutes, all so she could get more than just a few seconds’ head start.

Better make their lives count for something.

She dropped her bow, snatched up the last dead guard’s crossbow with a full load of ammunition and ran.

NINETEEN

A half hour had passed since Dragos had lost the connection with Pia through the tracking spell. Then he and his sentinels arrived at the junction of Highway 17 and Averill Avenue. They found police cars, an ambulance and a fire truck surrounding a black Dodge Ram pickup. He sent Tiago, Rune and Grym winging southeast into the Harriman State Park to look for a gray Lexus.

At almost forty seven thousand acres in size, the park was the second largest in New York and had over thirty lakes and a couple hundred miles of hiking trails. It also had a passageway to a large area of Other land.

Still shielding their presence from human sight, Dragos arrowed to the ground, followed by Graydon, Bayne and Constantine. After shifting, he raced toward the emergency response vehicles, flanked by the gryphons.

Graydon walked up to a policewoman and introduced himself. “What happened?”

“There was a shooting,” said the woman, glancing from Dragos to the gryphons with wide eyes. “The victim’s a middle-aged guy who was gunned down in the street. Couple kids found him—”

Dragos ignored the rest. He strode past the truck. There was one pool of blood. Bayne stopped to inspect the spot. The ambulance doors were open. He looked inside. Two EMTs were working over a man.

“He conscious?” he asked one of the EMTs.

“You can’t be here right now,” said the man, without looking up.

He reached inside, grabbed the man and threw him out of the ambulance. He said to the other EMT, “This man conscious?”

He nodded, eyes wide. “We’re working to stabilize him. We’ve got to get him to the hospital.”

Dragos climbed in and crouched by the stretcher. The victim’s eyes were glazed with shock. Dragos pulled the oxygen mask down. He demanded, “Was she alive when they took her?”

The man’s mouth worked. He was panting in short, shallow breaths and his color wasn’t good. “What . . .”

Dragos leaned closer. “The woman who was kidnapped. Was she alive when they took her?”

“Y-yes, I think so . . .” managed the man between gasps. “Shot her . . . shot her—”

The EMT’s hand came over his to take hold of the oxygen mask and ease it back into place. “Please,” he said to Dragos. “He’s already arrested once. You’ve got to go.”

Constantine released the EMT he had evicted as he climbed out of the ambulance. He stood, face white and hands clenched, as Graydon and Bayne jogged over. He said through white lips, “He thinks she was alive. He said they shot her.”

“Ah shit,” said Graydon as he blanched.

Constantine gripped Dragos’s arm hard. “Don’t go making her all dead in your head,” he said. “Remember, they drugged and kidnapped her the first time—they didn’t kill her. They want her alive.”

“You’re right,” he said. He looked at them, his eyes bloodshot. For the first time he managed to articulate what she had told him earlier. “She’s pregnant. Urien has my pregnant mate.”

The gryphons stared at him in equal measures of horror and dismay.

Then Tiago said, We found the Lexus. They crossed over in here.

Galvanized, the four raced away from the human scene and took to the air to join the others. Good news: the Lexus didn’t have any traces of blood. The constriction in his chest eased. He started to breathe again.

They located the passageway and crossed over to the Other land. Dragos had hoped against hope, but the tracking spell laid on her braid didn’t survive the disconnect and crossover. They would have to track her and her kidnappers by land.

Good thing they had one of the best trackers of any species on their side. Tiago loped across the ground in wide arcs, studying the ground, until he took off running in one direction. Rune and Graydon scouted farther afield while the others kept to the ground with Tiago.

Dragos kept to the air, shielding his presence as he scouted in circles, projecting ahead of Tiago’s trajectory.

Death was another good friend of his and flew in his shadow.

Pia had no idea where she was or where she was going. Story of her life, apparently. She had one goal: to run as far away from Urien as fast as she could get. She hoped he didn’t have any of those dragonfly thingies with him. If it came down to a ground race, she had a good fighting chance.

The rolling countryside was carpeted with thick clusters of forest and open areas carpeted with riotous profusions of wildflowers. She paused at the edge of a wood and ran her gaze quickly over the scene behind her. No sight or sound of pursuit.

Gold and purple and scarlet dusted the emerald green field she had just traversed. Her gaze landed on a brilliant purple flower with fluted petals like a lily as it spat out a long, feathery, stamenlike stalk, whip fast, and it caught a buzzing insect on the sticky end, which then retracted into the flower with its prey.

She recoiled. Let’s not consider that a metaphor for anything.

She slung the crossbow on her back and plunged into a forested area for ground cover. She avoided anything that looked like a path. If she managed to get far enough away, she would start thinking about how to hide her trail better, but right now she didn’t have time to consider finesse.

A light rain started to patter in the treetops, the occasional drop making it far enough to land on her. Maybe she’d get lucky and it would start to pour. A heavy rain would help to dissipate her scent.

The newly released Wyr in her was eager to stretch out her legs and dig into a hard run, but Pia’s human mind couldn’t help but be frustrated. Six months from now she would have had a chance to practice many of the tricks her mother had tried to teach her about how to obscure her path from pursuers. As it was, she didn’t dare try to tap into her Power in case she made a mistake and gave away her position.