"This is bullshit!" Sal said, grabbing one of the passing orderlies with a cobralike motion. "Why isn't anything being done for him?"

"Th-there's nothing to be done," the vamp said. He looked young, which didn't mean anything, but there was also very little power coming off him. And he wasn't very good at controlling his expressions. He glanced at Rafe and winced. "We had the healers look at him, but they said the damage was too extensive. That only his master had a chance of—"

"His master is hiding his cowardly ass in Faerie!" Sal snarled, her bloodred talons biting into the vamp's arm. "Think of something else!"

"There isn't anything else," the vamp said, starting to look a little panicked. "P-please. . I belong to Lady Halcyone. If I've offended—"

Sal released him with a disgusted snort, and he scurried away. From her expression, he was lucky that his lady and defender was a Senate member. But he was right. Vampires either healed themselves or they didn't, which was why it really worried me that Rafe hadn't dropped into a healing trance yet. Or maybe he had and he'd already come out of it unchanged. A sickening rush of dread pooled in my stomach.

I stared at him, remembering how quiet he'd been on the way back and how he'd disappeared in the lobby. I should have realized that there was a problem then, or if not, definitely when I took a shower later. The tip of my nose and the rise of my cheekbones had been sunburned enough to sting under the water. How had it not occurred to me that Rafe had to be much worse off? Nuclear-radiation-proof sunscreen or not, vampires under first level should never be out in direct sunlight. Everyone knew that; even people who hadn't grown up at a vampire's court. So how could I have missed it? How could I have gone to sleep and let this happen?

"Please, Rafe," I begged, my voice breaking. "Please—"

Sal had grabbed someone else, one of the Circle's healers as a guess, and dragged her forcibly over to the bed. She had black hair curling under her chin, an even tan and beautiful features. She managed to be unattractive anyway. "Release me immediately!" the woman demanded. "This is an outrage!"

"It seems we got a different idea of what constitutes an outrage," Sal told her. "Do something for my friend here or I'll demonstrate mine."

The woman flushed an ugly red. "We have already done what we could. Conventional medicine is of little use when the body it is being practiced on is already dead!"

"Then come up with something unconventional."

The argument continued but I stopped listening. Something unconventional. That was supposed to be my department. I was the one who'd inherited all this power, the one who was supposed to be able to fix things. But I didn't know how to fix this.

I tried to summon my power, but it wouldn't come. And attempting to force it resulted in the same thing it always did—giving me a headache and having it shy away like a skittish colt. So I tried to reason things out, but that didn't help, either.

I could go back in time and warn Rafe, tell him to leave with Marlowe and the others. But I didn't think he'd do it—I knew him better than that—and even if he did, it would only condemn everyone else in our car to death. We'd barely gotten out with Rafe at the wheel. No way would we have made it without vampire reflexes. And he was the only vamp who'd stayed.

There has to be something, I thought desperately. Something I'd missed, something I hadn't—

My power cut me off midthought. It had decided to come back, and with a vengeance. The makeshift clinic abruptly disappeared, overtaken by a vision so strong, I couldn't see anything else.

I was walking down a cracked highway half grown in with desert plants. I didn't encounter any people, but when I topped a hill and stared into the distance, I saw that I wasn't completely alone. The road was not just broken up and badly overgrown; it was a car graveyard.

Sunlight gleamed dully on the dust-caked surfaces of cars, trucks and SUVs. They were lined up in rows, like a rusted traffic jam, for as far as I could see. And although most of the vehicles were newer models, they didn't look like they'd moved for fifty years.

I started wading through the mass, but the cars were practically bumper to bumper and I decided it might be easier to walk on the sand. But when I stepped off the highway, the ground under my feet felt funny. It was dry and baked hard underneath, but on top was a layer of crumbling dust that crunched oddly under the soles of my sneakers.

I realized why a second too late, and jerked my foot back. But the bone I'd stepped on was dry and brittle enough that it crumbled to pieces anyway. More bones were everywhere, scattered like shells on a well-traveled beach. Staring ahead, I could see sand littered with white and brittle bits for what looked like miles.

After a minute, I continued through the maze, the glass from shattered windshields crunching under my feet. Some of the cars looked like they'd burned, but the pattern was random, not like that of an attack. Maybe the sun had reflected off of a shard of glass, igniting the fuel leaking from a decaying chassis. The blackened skeletons of twisted metal spotted the line, dark blotches against the field of yellow, like a leopard's spots.

Even the cars that hadn't burned were ruined, with drifts of sand and growing weeds obscuring any clues to what had happened. Every once in a while, I came across one with still-intact windows, but they were so caked with accumulated grime that it was hard to see inside. And layers of rust and dust had ruined the hinges.

I tried half a dozen of the best-preserved cars before finally finding one that I could force open. A billow of stale air rushed out, like the breath of a tomb, and something moved inside. I drew back with a little scream.

A desiccated body still sat in the driver's seat, held in place by a seat belt that had almost been bleached white by the sun. Forcing the door had jarred the remains, causing the head to detach from the rest of the corpse and fall into the floorboard. Its face stared up at me, turned to leather by the dry heat, a few tufts of brittle hair still sticking out from under a baseball cap and mouth caught in a frozen scream.

I stumbled away, but everywhere I turned, it was the same story—more tomblike cars baking in the sun. That's where the bones came from, I realized dully. From cars that hadn't remained sealed, from ones that animals could get into and—

I crouched down, my hand on a bumper, my head between my legs. For a long moment, I thought I was going to be sick. But nothing happened except that the dizziness finally passed and my eyes managed to focus again—on the dust-caked remains of a license plate.

My breath quickened, my heart suddenly pounding in my chest. I tried knocking the dirt away, but it was almost baked on, so I clawed at it with my fingernails. I finally managed to uncover the little plastic sticker with the year. And then I just stared, the colors all blurring together in a smear of primaries—red sticker, yellow dust, blue sky.

It was this year's date.

The vision shattered as abruptly as before, leaving me trying to breathe through a white-hot spike of panic. Hands gripped my shoulders and I couldn't break their hold. I heard voices, but I was hysterical, close to hyperventilating, and I couldn't make sense of them. Until a new voice spoke my name, the simple word melting into a rich, golden tone that washed over me like a benediction.

"It will be all right, Cassie." Mircea was murmuring the same thing over and over while stroking my back, my hair. And I kept trying to tell him that it wasn't, that it wouldn't be. Because my power kept showing me nightmares instead of the answers I desperately needed. Because I didn't understand what it was trying to tell me. Because Rafe was dying and there was nothing I could do to stop it.