“Did Hoyt speak to you?”

“He didn’t have to. I have eyes.”

“I don’t know how we’ll resolve it.” She put the broom away. “We’ll find a way. Does it matter to you?”

“Not in the least. It’s of interest to me.” He got a bottle of wine from the counter rack, studied the label. “I’ve lived among you for a considerable amount of time. Without interest, I’d have died of boredom long ago.”

She steadied herself. “Loving each other makes us stronger. I believe that. We need to be stronger. So far, we haven’t done very well.”

He opened the wine, got down a glass. “No, you haven’t done very well, particularly.”

“Cian,” she said as he turned to go. “I know you blame me for King. You have every right to—to blame me and to hate me for it. But if we don’t find a way to work together, to mesh, he won’t just be the only one of us to die. He’ll just be the first.”

“I beat him to that by a few hundred years.” He tipped the glass toward her in a kind of salute, then walked out with the bottle.

“Well, that was useless,” Glenna muttered, and turned back to finish the dishes.

He would hate her, she thought, and likely hate Hoyt as well because Hoyt loved her. Their team was fractured even before it had a genuine chance to become a unit.

If they had time, nothing but time, she would let it lie, wait until Cian’s resentment cooled, began to fade. But they didn’t have that luxury of wasting any more of the precious little time they’d been given. She’d have to find a way to work around it, or him.

She dried her hands, flung the cloth down.

There was a thump outside the back door, as if something heavy had fallen. Instinctively she stepped back, reached for the sword braced against the counter, and one of the stakes lying on it.

“They can’t get in,” she whispered, and even the whisper shook. “If they want to spy on me while I’m cleaning up the kitchen, so what?”

But she wished she and Hoyt had had better luck devising a spell to create a protected area around the house.

Still, she couldn’t let it frighten her, wouldn’t let it. She certainly wasn’t going to open the door again to have a chat with something that wanted to rip her throat out.

But there came a kind of scratching, low on the door. And a moan. And the hand gripping the sword went damp with sweat.

“Help me. Please.”

The voice was weak, barely audible through the wood. But she thought...

“Let me in. Glenna? Glenna? In the name of God, let me in before they come.”

“King?” The sword clattered on the floor as she leaped toward the door. Still, she held the stake in a firm grip.

Fool me once, she thought, and kept well out of reach as she opened the door.

He lay on the stones just outside, his clothes bloody and torn. More blood had dried on the side of his face, and his breathing was a thin wheeze.

Alive, was all she could think.

She started to crouch down, pull him inside, but Cian was beside her. He shoved her aside, lowered down himself. Laid a hand on King’s battered cheek.

“We need to get him in. Hurry, Cian! I’ve got things that can help.”

“They’re close. Tracking me.” He groped blindly for Cian’s hand. “I didn’t think I’d make it.”

“You have. Come inside now.” He gripped King under the arms, dragged him into the kitchen. “How did you get away?”

“Don’t know.” King sprawled on the floor, eyes closed. “Missed the rocks. Thought I’d drown, but... I got out, got out of the water. Hurt pretty bad. Passed out, don’t know how long. Walked, walked all day. Hid at night. They come at night.”

“Let me see what I can do for him,” Glenna began.

“Close the door,” Cian told her.

“Did everybody make it? Did everybody... thirsty.”

“Aye, I know.” Cian gripped his hand, looked into his eyes. “I know.”

“We’ll start with this.” Glenna mixed something briskly in a cup. “Cian, if you’d go get the others. I could use Hoyt and Moira. We’ll want to get King into bed, make him comfortable.”

She bent to him as she spoke, and the cross around her neck dangled down, swung toward King’s face.

He hissed like a snake, bared fangs and skuddled back.

Then to Glenna’s horror, he got to his feet. And grinned.

“You never told me how it felt,” he said to Cian.

“Words fall short. It needs to be experienced.”

“No.” Glenna could only shake her head. “Oh God, no.”

“You could’ve taken me here a long time ago, but I’m glad you didn’t. I’m glad it was now, when I’m in my prime.”

King circled around as he spoke, blocking the door out of the kitchen. “They hurt me first. Lilith—she knows amazing ways to give pain. You know you don’t stand a chance against her.”

“I’m sorry,” Glenna whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. She said I could have you. Eat you or change you. My choice.”

“You don’t want to hurt me, King.”

“Oh yes, he does,” Cian said easily. “He wants the pain in you nearly as much as he wants your blood in his throat. It’s how he’s made. Had she already given you the gift before they threw you off the cliff?”

“No. I was hurt though, hurt bad. Could hardly stand. They had a rope around me when they tossed me off. If I lived, she’d give me the gift. I lived. She’ll take you back,” he said to Cian.

“Yes, I know she will.”

Glenna looked from one to the other. Trapped, she realized, between them. He’d known—she saw that now. Cian had known what King was before he’d let him in the house.

“Don’t do this. How can you do this? To your brother.”

“I can’t have him,” King told Cian. “Neither can you. She wants Hoyt herself. She wants to drink him, the sorcerer. With his blood, she’ll ascend even higher. Every world there is will be ours.”

The sword was too far away, and she no longer had the stake. She had nothing.

“We’re to take Hoyt and the other female to her, alive. This one, and the boy? They’re ours if we want them.”