"Not this drug," I told her as I went back to my pack and pulled out the thermos of coffee. "Though I don't think it's working as well as they want.

"I should have thought to bring water," I told her, holding a thermos cup filled with the noxious-smelling black stuff near her face. I know that most people like the smell, but for some reason I can't stand it.

When she didn't move I snapped, "Come on now, you don't have time to wallow. Tonight, when you're home, you can go catatonic if you want to. You need to help me get your father up and running."

I felt like I was beating a whimpering dog, but she sat up and took the small metal cup in a trembling hand. I'd been expecting that, and only filled the cup halfway. She grimaced at the taste.

"Drink it," I told her. "It's good for what ails you. Caffeine and sugar. I don't drink it, so I ran over to your house and stole the expensive stuff in your freezer. It shouldn't be that bad. Samuel told me to make it strong and pour sugar into it. Should taste sort of like bitter syrup."

She gave me a small smile, then a bigger one, and plugged her nose before she drank it all down in one gulp. "Next time," she said in a hoarse voice, "I make the coffee."

I grinned at her. "That's it."

"Is there any way to get the handcuffs off?" she asked.

"We've got a conspirator coming in a couple of hours," I told her. "He'll have keys."

"Okay," she said, but her mouth trembled. "But maybe you could try to pick them. These aren't the good ones, like cops have, but more like the ones you find at BDSM stores."

"Jessica Tamarind Hauptman," I said in a shocked voice. "How would you know about that?"

She gave me a watery giggle. "One of my friends has a pair he got at a garage sale. He locked himself in and couldn't find a key. He was pretty panicked until his mom picked the lock."

I took a good look at the keyhole. It looked suspiciously clumsy to me. I didn't have any handy bobby pins or wire hangers, but Zee's dagger had a narrow point.

I took one of the cuffs and tried to insert the narrow end of the dagger. First I thought it wasn't going to fit, but with a little pressure it slid in just fine.

"Ow." Jesse jerked her arms.

I pulled the dagger back and looked at the scratch on her wrist. Then I looked at the cuff where the dagger had slid through the metal almost as easily as it had the rope.

"Metal mage indeed," I murmured.

"What kind of a knife is that?" Jesse asked.

"A dagger. A borrowed one." I set it against the chain between the cuffs and watched the chain melt away from the edge of the dark gray blade. "Hmm. I suppose I'm going to ask more questions next time I borrow something from a fae."

"Can it cut all the way through the cuffs?" Jess held up the damaged one, which was already half sliced through.

I held it away from her bruised skin and cautiously slid the dagger between her wrist and the cuff. It looked like some bad special effect as the metal parted from the blade. A filmmaker would have added sparks or a bright red glow-all I could detect was a faint whiff of ozone.

"Who did you borrow it from?" she asked, as I cut through the second cuff. "Zee?" I saw his status rise from crusty old friend to intriguing mystery. "How cool." She sounded almost like herself, and it was a painful contrast to the purpling bruise down one side of her face and the marks around her wrists.

I didn't remember seeing the bruise on her face before the werewolf took her downstairs.

"Did he hit you just now?" I asked, touching her cheek and remembering the sight of the guard carrying her while she tried to be as small as possible.

She withdrew, the smile dying and her eyes growing dull. "I don't want to think about him."

"All right," I agreed easily. "You don't need to worry about him anymore."

I'd see to it myself if I had to. The veil of civilization fell away from me rather easily, I thought, taking the empty cup and twisting it back on the thermos. All it had taken was the sight of that bruise, and I was ready to do murder.

"You really ought to have more of this," I told her. "But I need the caffeine for your father. Maybe Shawn will bring something with him when he comes."

"Shawn?"

I explained about David Christiansen and the help they had promised in getting us all out in one piece.

"You trust them?" she asked, and when I nodded, she said, "Okay."

"Let's go take a look at your father."

Once I'd freed Jesse, there was little benefit to leaving Adam in chains, and all that silver couldn't be helping him any. I brought Zee's dagger up to bear, but Jesse caught my hand.

"Mercy?" she said in a small voice. "When he starts coming out of it, he's…"

"Pretty scary?" I patted her hand. I'd thought a time or two that her experience with werewolves had led her to think of them like pets, rather than dangerous predators. It looked as though that wasn't going to be a problem. I remember David saying that Adam had gone crazy when he'd come into the room, and I remembered the ruins of Adam's living room. Maybe the veil had been ripped from her eyes a little too thoroughly.

"What did you expect when he's helpless in the hands of his enemies?" I said reasonably. "He's trying to defend you as best he can. It takes a tremendous amount of will to overcome the stuff they've been pumping into him. You can't expect the results to be pretty."

I had been going to start with one of the chains, but Jesse's concerns made me realize that I was a little worried about completely freeing Adam, too. That would never do. Not if I was going to get him up and mobile. If I was afraid of him, it would rouse the predator.

Resolutely, I pressed the knife against the heavy manacle that held his left wrist. I had to be careful because the manacles fit his wrists tighter than the cuffs had fit Jesse. There was not enough space between his skin and the metal to slide the dagger in without cutting him. Remembering how the blade had reacted to cutting Samuel, I thought that might be a bad thing. So I let the knife rest on the metal without adding any force so I could pull it away as soon as it was through.

At first I thought it was the heat of my hands warming the haft, but as the blade broke through the manacle, I had to drop it because it had grown too hot to hold. Adam's hand slid off the chair arm to rest in his lap.

It took almost an hour to cut away the rest of the manacles and chains. Each time the knife heated up, it did so more quickly and took longer to cool off. There were scorch marks on the linoleum floor and a few blisters on my hand by the time Adam was finally free of the silver chains.

Jesse helped me to gather all the chains together and heap them on the bed. We had to be careful not to drag them on the floor because the sound of metal on hard surfaces tends to carry.

We were just dropping the last of it when I heard the sound of the guard's footstep on the stair. I dropped Zee's dagger on the bed with the silver, pushed Jesse toward the closet, and drew my gun. I aimed it about six feet up the door, and froze, waiting for the bolt to turn on the lock.

He whistled as he inserted the key and I steadied my grip. I planned on hitting him in the middle of his chest first, then two shots into his head. If he wasn't dead after that, he'd be incapacitated so I could finish him off. It would rouse everyone, but I had no options: I had neither time nor inclination to rebind the prisoners.

As I drew in a breath I heard a man's voice, distorted by the door and by distance so I couldn't quite make out what he said. But I heard the man outside our door. If I had to kill someone, I was happy it would be the one who'd hit Jesse.

"Checking on the prisoners," he said. "It's about time to shoot Hauptman again."

The second man said something else.