"Don't they?" The faintest hint of a smile showed on his damned lips. I dragged my gaze up from them and gave myself a mental lecture about morality. "What do you think they're going to do when they find out their precious Zorya is married to a Dark One?"

I frowned. "If the Zorya has to marry one of their own people, as you say, they aren't going to be happy, but they're hardly going to do anything to me other than take away the stone and make someone else Zorya."

"That's not how it works," he said, his face hard and unyielding. Even as I marveled that I had wanted so badly to kiss him, the desire to do the same welled up inside me. I squashed it down mercilessly. "In their eyes, you have been tainted by your marriage to me. The only way they can have a new Zorya is by the elimination of the old one."

I stared at him in growing comprehension. "You mean they'd kill me to get a new Zorya?"

"Uh-oh," Ulfur said. "That doesn't sound good."

"You are wed to me," Kristoff said evenly, his face unreadable. "You cannot assume the full powers of a Zorya now, and thus you are useless to their purpose. It will be for Alec to keep you safe so that they cannot name a new one."

"I don't believe you," I told him, trying to convince myself that he was lying. To be honest, I wasn't sure he was, but something didn't ring true. I just didn't know what was what anymore.

He shrugged. "That's Alec's problem. He'll deal with you now. I've done my part."

"I'm not something to be dealt with, although I would appreciate talking to him," I said with as much dignity as I could muster. Which, given that I had just been sucking on his tongue, wasn't a whole lot. "As it is, I have a few questions for—look out!"

Three shadows rose up behind Kristoff, shadows that quickly resolved themselves into figures. It was a faint flicker of light off a long blade that had caught my eye. Kristoff slammed his hand into my chest, sending me crashing backward into a large stack of wooden crates. I hit my head hard on the wood, but by the time my vision cleared, I realized that he wasn't assaulting me, he had merely shoved me out of the way while he dealt with the attackers.

And deal with them he did. I had no idea where he carried the twin daggers that now flashed in his hands, but he whirled and attacked with incredible grace and power, sending two of the three men flying in opposite directions. One of them crashed at my feet. I snatched up an empty crate and brought it down on his head as he was about to rise, feeling immense satisfaction as the man collapsed unconscious to the ground.

The ghosts leaped around, yelling and calling advice, unable to interact with anything, their ghostly forms adding just another level of surreality to the situation.

Kristoff's fight with the other two men was over almost as quickly, increasing my respect for his prowess. One man he sent slamming into the nearest wall, which was enough to send the attacker sliding uselessly to the ground, where he lay in a motionless blob. The last man, the one wielding a sword, screamed something at Kristoff, and slashed at him with rhythmic strokes of the blade.

Kristoff parried them all, kicking out with one leg, catching the man square in the chest, which sent him, too, slamming against the wall. I was just about to cheer when suddenly I was yanked painfully backward by my hair, a burning sensation at my throat. The man I'd hit with the crate snarled obscenities as he dragged me backward, toward the other end of the alley.

"Touch me and she dies," he spat out, then gave as obscene a laugh as I'd ever heard, and continued in a foreign language.

"He can't kill our reaper, can he?" the elderly ghost asked.

"I don't think so," Ulfur said hesitantly.

"What'll happen to us if he does? The Ilargi will get us!" the teen wailed.

I squirmed, trying to get a purchase on the ground so I could twist out of my attacker's grip, but he kept me too much off balance.

Kristoff said nothing, just stalked toward us, his eyes as black as midnight. I shivered at the sight, understanding now what Anniki had said about the vampires. Kristoff wasn't human. He was something foreign, something dark and dangerous, and every instinct I possessed told me to get away before he caught me.

I screamed, my voice abruptly stopping when my captor wrapped his hand tighter in my hair before jerking me sideways into the brick wall. I saw stars again as pain burst out in red waves that left me nauseous and nearly unconscious. I grasped for something to keep me from falling into a deep, dark pit where I seemed to teeter at the edge, my fingers closing around a cold metal rim.

Air moved past me as my eyes slowly cleared, leaving me with a clear vision of Kristoff calmly wiping a bloodied dagger blade on the prone form that lay at my feet. I clutched the trash bin with all my strength, staring in horror at the body. Although my attacker had fallen facedown, I knew without a doubt that he was dead.

And Kristoff had killed him.

Right there in front of me.

If I needed any proof that what Anniki had said was the real version of what was going on, this was definitely it.

I looked into Kristoff's now smoky blue eyes and saw the rage he felt, saw fury and menace and triumphant victory. I was up and running down the alley away from him before I even knew my legs would still work.

Voices called out my name, one of them his, but I ran even faster, blindly careening off of walls and obstructions and even cars as I dashed madly through the city, sure of only one thing—Kristoff was a killer. Alec couldn't be like him. Could he?

Chapter 7

A light breeze ruffled my hair. "Pia? Are you all right?"

I looked up from where I'd been hunkered over, sobbing into my knees, right into the nostrils of a ghostly horse. I fought back the startled scream that threatened to burst out of me, sniffling instead and hunting desperately in my pockets for a tissue. "Ulfur?"

"Yes, it's me." His horse smelled my hair, then snorted into it with a shake of his head. "Ragnar, leave her be. She does not wish to pet you."

"I don't think I could if I wanted to," I said, giving up the search and dabbing at my damp nose with my sleeve. I pushed away the trash cans that hid me and got to my feet, a little wobbly, but not entirely surprised to find that the space behind the library where I'd collapsed was now filled with ghostly entities. "Oh, good, you found Karl and Marta."

"Yes, they were hiding near the park. There was another man, a sailor, I think, but he said he was going to search for rum and would find us later. You are hurt?" Ulfur's face was filled with concern, as were, in varying degrees, those of the other ghosts crowded around me. All except the smart-mouthed teen, and she was busy picking her nails until the woman I assumed was her mother cuffed her upside the head. "Did your husband harm you?"

"He's not my husband," I said, dusting off my clothing. "Well, that's to say, he might be, but if he is, he's neither legal nor wanted."

"You kissed him," one of the male ghosts said.

"That was… um… unintentional," I lied.

"It looked like you were enjoying it," Ulfur pointed out.

"I didn't say it was unpleasant, just that it was unintentional." I don't know why I felt quite so defensive about the kiss Kristoff and I had shared, unless it was over the immense guilt I felt at betraying his friend. "He's not really my husband. I may be married to him, but he's not a husband in the true sense of the word."

"Ah," the older ghost said, waggling his eyebrows at the teen's mom. "He hasn't bedded her yet."

A chorus of comprehending aahs followed that statement.

"You'd best be seeing to that right away," snarky teen's mom said with a knowing look. "Men like that have an appetite for women, and you'll not be wanting him to stray."