“You have a rare opportunity right now,” she told him. “Not many people get a chance like this in their lifetime. You could ask for anything, and my mom would gladly give it to you. The sky is the limit. One quick phone call from you, and this could all be over in a matter of hours. She could protect you from Justine, give you legal immunity and make you rich.”

“You want me to betray my sire,” he whispered. “My very dangerous sire.”

“You know, my mom is really dangerous too,” she pointed out. “Not only is she wealthy, but she also has strong political ties all over the world, especially with the Demonkind. She has her own private army, access to the best magical users, and I’m pretty sure she might have invented the word vendetta. I guarantee you – she’s never going to give up trying to find out what happened to me. And the more time that passes, the greater the chances are that Justine’s going to slip up and give something away. Either that or my mom will uncover evidence that will lead to her.”

The problem was, of course, that Melly and Julian might not be alive when that happened.

From Anthony’s expression, it was clear he hadn’t thought of that. His eyes narrowed quickly on her.

She tried out another small smile on him. “On the flip side of the coin, right now, anything you ask for is yours if you want it. But if you do want to make that call, my mom will need time to act. You need to call her sometime when Justine isn’t expecting to see you for a few hours. She can’t get the opportunity to ask you what you’ve been doing, because you would have to tell her.”

Anthony frowned and rubbed his mouth.

After a brief pause to let what she had said sink in, Melly shrugged and said, “For instance, you could walk out of here right now and make the call. Otherwise you’ll have to wait for another window of opportunity.” She met his gaze and held it. “Do you want her number?”

He jerked back and strode away. “I’m done listening to you. I got shit to do.”

Dammit! She almost had him!

She called after his retreating figure, “Think about it, Anthony. You may not get very many chances.”

The Vampyre didn’t reply. As he took the lantern with him, the light faded.

She wasn’t ready to go back into the deep well of blackness that existed in the tunnels without any light source. Darting to her nest, she dug out her flashlight and turned it on. After having gotten used to the greater illumination from the lantern, her small flashlight’s thin, cold beam of light seemed terribly fragile, and all the surrounding shadows felt dense and heavy with an unseen malice.

Shoulders sagging, she listened as the gate opened and closed, and his footsteps faded into silence.

Out of the darkness came Julian’s voice. He sounded ragged and more gravelly than ever. “I forgot how you could talk up a bitch when you wanted. I thought he was going to go for it.”

Gladness and relief speared through her. She swung the flashlight beam around and trained it toward Julian. The illumination barely reached him. He still sagged in his chains, his head drooping, but the weak light caught and glimmered in his eyes.

“Julian,” she whispered. “I am so sorry about what happened…”

He must have shut his eyes, because that brief hint of a glimmer disappeared. He said, “How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?”

The words were as hostile as ever, but he sounded so unutterably weary as he said them. The combination twisted inside of her, until she felt angry and tearful at once.

Sniffing, she turned back to her nest and rummaged for the bag of nuts and the candy bar. While hoarding sounded good in theory, sometimes you just had to eat a little chocolate.

After swallowing a couple of mouthfuls, just enough calories to pick up her flagging energy, she forced herself to set the rest aside. While Anthony was supposed to bring more food, she couldn’t trust anything good happening in this hellhole until she saw it for herself.

When she got to her feet again, she tucked her stake into the waist of her slacks at the small of her back and began to sweep the flashlight back and forth over the floor in a steady pattern.

After a moment, Julian asked, “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for something.” A small, gold metallic gleam caught her eye. It was the piece of hairpin that had bent in the lock earlier. She darted forward to pick it up and examine it.

The small slender piece had bent so sharply in the middle, it was almost at a ninety-degree angle. The hairpins were made out of cheap, soft metal, and she knew from experience that if she tried to bend it back into place, it would probably break.

Still, there might come a use for it. She slipped it into her hand and made a fist with one end of the pin poking between two fingers. If nothing else, it could add some damage if she threw a punch. If she aimed well enough, she could even possibly put out an eye with it.

Shoving it into her pocket, she turned her attention to the cell door, stuck the end of the flashlight between her teeth and pulled out her makeshift lock picks.

“What on earth are you doing now?” He sounded as grumpy as a bear with a sore head.

“I’m coming to rescue you, so you might want to dial your rudeness down a notch or two.”

When the lock turned, she opened the door of her cell and walked out.

As Julian watched Melly pick the lock on his cell door, his emotions were almost indescribable. Not only was she alive, which was a miracle all on it’s own, but she also looked relatively unscathed.

The cut on her neck had already crusted over. Her face was smudged with either dirt or bruises, and there were more bruises on the tawny skin of her arms. Something – or someone – had raked her forearm, but it looked like the wounds had scabbed over. That was all the damage he could detect. She even sounded more or less calm.

She had pulled her tangled hair back into a braid. He had almost forgotten how she could do that. Her hair was curly enough that it could stay in a braid without a tie for at least an hour, if it wasn’t disturbed, but when they had been together, he had rarely been able to leave her alone for long enough to let that happen.

The relief that overcame him was more intense than any other emotion he had felt in a very long time. He said hoarsely, “What are you using to pick the locks?”

She spoke around the butt of the flashlight she held between her teeth, and while the words were a bit distorted, they were also easily understandable. “Pieces of a hairpin.”