Blinking, Seth stared at Marcus. This was concern for Ami? Marcus had practically begged Seth to take her off his hands only an hour earlier.

“Well?” Marcus prodded.

Seth didn’t know what to make of it. Marcus’s head appeared to be firmly back on his shoulders where it should be. Yet Seth hadn’t expected such a swift, extreme turnaround.

“She’s fine.”

“She isn’t fine! Look at her!”

Seth did. His hands heated. The cuts and scratches on her exposed face, neck, and arms shrank, faded to scars, then vanished altogether, leaving only the butterfly closures, gauze bandages, and a few spots of dried blood. The bruises transformed from purplish black to brown, then tan, then yellowish green, and disappeared without a trace.

A relieved sigh wafted from Marcus. “Thank you. I wanted to take her to Roland, but she refused. She wouldn’t agree to see one of the doctors at the network either.”

“Ami has an aversion to doctors that borders on … well, I was going to say fear, but it’s really more like hatred.”

“Roland isn’t a doctor.”

“No. But all Ami knows of Roland is what she has witnessed during his visits with Sebastien.” Which were notoriously violent.

Marcus winced.

“Exactly.”

“Why isn’t she waking? Are you sure she’s healed?”

“Yes, this is actually a good sign.”

“What do you mean?”

Seth smiled. “She’s sleeping.”

Marcus looked at him with Yeah? And? stamped on his face. Then … “Oh. Are you saying she feels safe with me now?”

“Yes.”

Marcus seated himself on the other side of the bed and fussed with Ami’s covers.

“Tell me what you meant when you said the network has been infiltrated,” Seth said, watching his every movement.

Slim chose that moment to stroll into the room. Leaping limberly onto the bed, he offered his partially bald head to both Seth and Marcus for a rub, then settled himself on Ami’s chest.

“I called Reordon after you left,” Marcus told Seth, as he stroked the purring cat’s back. “He called someone named Marion and told him to come pick up the Busa and give me a ride. Five minutes later, dozens of vampires descended upon me. Upon us. Ami was with me by then.”

Chris Reordon was as loyal as they came. Seth knew he wasn’t the one who had deceived them. And Chris rigorously screened everyone he allowed into the network. All of his people should be trustworthy. Yet …

“You should have been there, Seth,” Marcus murmured, a wealth of admiration in his voice. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Vampires poured from the trees in an endless stream, and she didn’t hesitate to take them on. Not even after I shoved her into the car and ordered her to leave. Thirty-four, Seth. I could name dozens of immortals who would quail at those numbers.”

“I wouldn’t call it quailing,” Seth countered. “More like demonstrating intelligence and a genuine desire to live.”

Marcus ignored the sarcastic rebuttal. “Even as exhausted as she must have been, Ami fought as fiercely and expertly as any Immortal Guardian.”

Seth grinned, chest swelling with pride. “I told you she could kick your ass.”

Marcus laughed. “I believe she could.”

And damned if he didn’t sound a bit smitten when he said it.

That was a little disturbing.

“Is there anything I can do for her?” Marcus asked, brushing damp hair back from Ami’s temple.

“No. She’ll sleep a day or so until she’s rested and has regained her strength.”

“What about … uh …” Unbelievably, a flush crept up Marcus’s neck.

“Don’t worry about it. The last time this happened, she walked in her sleep and took care of her own needs if nature called.”

“Oh. Good. That’s … actually a little weird.”

Seth shrugged. “So is seeing dead people.”

“Point taken.”

“She won’t really be sleepwalking anyway. She’ll just be somewhere between sleeping and waking, completely responsive and capable of speaking and reacting as if she were fully conscious, but she won’t retain any memory of what she says or does when she is rested enough to wake fully.”

“Hmm. I knew a knight like that once. You could rouse him from a sound sleep, ask him a question, and he would answer it clearly, go back to sleep, and have no memory of it the next morning. It actually led to quite a few pranks at his expense.”

“I trust you won’t resort to such with Ami.”

Marcus frowned. “Of course not.”

“Good.” Seth rose. “I’d better go talk to Reordon. He’ll be furious when he finds out one of his own may be conspiring with vampires. Then I’ll see if I can’t get to the bottom of what happened.”

Nodding, Marcus rose. “You know, for a moment earlier, I thought Ami might have been infected.”

Seth stiffened. “She was bitten?” Ami’s physiology was different, neither human nor gifted one. He wasn’t sure what the virus might do to her.

“No-no. It’s just … Those bruises formed so quickly and her cuts … I thought she might be healing at an accelerated rate.”

A question hung in the words.

Seth chose his own carefully. “Some people bruise more easily than others,” he said with a shrug. It wasn’t a lie. Some people did. If Ami wanted to tell Marcus the truth, she would.

Reaching out, Seth placed his hand on Marcus’s chest and siphoned away his wounds and pain. He also peeked at Marcus’s memories of the battle and shuddered at how close to death Ami had come.

It was a hell of a thing. Seth had promised to protect her, then placed her directly in danger’s path.

Marcus rolled his shoulders and drew in a long, deep breath, probably the first since Seth had broken his ribs. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You look like hell. Grab yourself some blood and a shower and take tomorrow night off.” He didn’t want Ami left unprotected while she recuperated.

“All right.”

No arguments? Really?

Why did that leave Seth feeling so uneasy?

Offering a last good night, he teleported himself to Chris Reordon’s office.

Screams of pain filled Ami’s head. Agonized. Full of despair. So many she lost count.

Hour after hour. Day after day. Week after week. Month after month.

Strange, how they paused each time she drew in a jagged breath, even though she didn’t voice them aloud. Never aloud. Never again. Even if she could unlock her tightly clenched teeth.

Shivers racked her bare body. The cold steel against her back was wintry, the manacles at her wrists and ankles like blocks of ice. Even the leather strap stretched tight across her forehead was cold.

Why had she come here? She had been warned that humans would greet her with violence, but naively had hoped for warmth and friendship. Curiosity, perhaps.

Well, they had indeed greeted her with curiosity. But it was a vile, sadistic curiosity that she could never have imagined.

She tried to look around, but couldn’t move and, thus, could see very little. As usual, the monsters covered their hair and faces with green masks and caps. Their hands bore semiclear protective gloves when they swam into her range of vision.

Her torturers spoke behind those masks, but she couldn’t hear them. She had heard nothing but her own mental cries since they had deafened her an hour earlier.

One of the butchers leaned over and dangled a tool in front of her eyes that looked like something one might use to cut flowers or trim small tree branches. His eyes crinkled at their edges, smiling with such malice.

He hated her, took pleasure in hurting her. She wished she could understand why.

Ami followed his progress with dread as he circled the table and stood by her right side. His soft fingers—so warm compared to her own—slipped beneath hers, and lifted them from the steel surface.

What felt like the blade of a knife touched the underside of her pinky finger. Another touched the top. Agony shot through her hand and up her arm. More screams erupted in her head.

What had he done?

He leaned over her again to show her something, eyes taunting and watching her closely.

She struggled to focus on the small, pale, blurry ovals pinched between his thumb and index finger. The indistinct objects looked as though he had dipped one end in something red.

She didn’t know what they were, why he wanted her to see them, until he turned them over and she saw the nails.

Her fingers. He had cut off her two smallest fingers at the first knuckle.

Silent wails of anguish echoed within the confines of her skull. Roars of fury. Prayers for death. Vows of vengeance. Coherent thought fled, replaced by the spitting, slathering ramblings of an animal kicked once too often.

Then, amidst the madness: a voice. Deep. Calm. Soothing. One she had heard before and labeled a meaningless manifestation of her slowly fragmenting mind.

We are here, it said. He said. Louder. Almost as if he stood just outside the room. We will be with you soon, little one, and will take you far away from here.

Her mind silenced.

Just a little longer, then you will be free.

A cruel trick. Nothing more. Yet she begged the voice to hurry. To do as he promised and set her free. Or kill her and end her misery.

A scalpel sank into her chest, pressed deep, then began carving a path down between her breasts.

Tears welled. The bright white lights above her wavered, then solidified as the moisture spilled down her temples and her vision cleared.

Cold metal slipped into this newest wound, cracked her chest open, and left it gaping wide, her heart exposed to the monsters hovering around her.

Yes, only death would end this, she decided. She only wished she could take the monsters with her.

It was her last coherent thought before scalding electricity burned through her and everything went white.

Marcus couldn’t recall ever having seen someone become trapped within the confines of a nightmare before.