I dropped Mychael’s hand. She knew we were here, and I wanted both of my hands free.

“Yes, elflings,” the demon queen purred when we materialized, pulling the Guardian closer. He gasped and shuddered; I didn’t blame him. Some things you just didn’t want touching you. “You all appreciate the helplessness of your situation. Soon you will experience helplessness as you never have before. The soul of another violating your body, pushing your soul aside, taking you completely. I have heard it said that you will remain aware through all of it-the taking, the possession-for the rest of your lives.” She smiled at us, pleasant, almost human, as if she’d just given us the best news in the world. “And you will be helpless to stop anything your new master or mistress wants your body to do.”

Just when I thought I couldn’t be more scared, someone came along and redefined the word for me. Killed by what you feared the most. Laurian Berel had been killed because of a dagger; he’d been terrified of daggers. I wouldn’t be that lucky. I wouldn’t be killed by what I feared most-I’d get to live with it, and wish I were dead. No control, helpless, completely at the mercy of another. Sarad Nukpana would love to have the job. He’d love to have me. I glanced down at the Saghred held tight in the Guardian’s hands. Colors swirled just beneath the surface, flowing, circling. Souls waiting and eager to get out.

“A sacrifice to use it; a sacrifice to open it.” My voice only shook a little. Good for me. A lot better than I’d expected. Fear, mixed with an urge to run, blended together with a desire to bloody my own blade with royal demonic black.

The queen inclined her head in a single, regal nod. “One must die, so that my lord and king may live again.” She gazed down at the dead elf. “He gave himself for a noble cause. Isn’t that what you teach your young ones, Paladin? Nobility and self-sacrifice?”

“He gave nothing.” Magic spun in the air with Mychael’s words. “You took.” He was a step closer to her; I hadn’t seen him move. “And you will pay.”

The queen laughed, bright and brittle-and nervous. She stepped back, pulling her prisoner with her. “And you will make me? I think not. You will not risk losing another of your own. That is a great weakness in you-you’re unwilling to lose even one, even when you have no chance of preventing it. Defiance in the face of futility. It is a weakness that my husband’s soul inhabiting your body will cure you of.” Her gaze turned lascivious. “You will be cured of many such weaknesses-and inhibitions.”

There were a few Volghuls around her that I could see; I was sure there were more in the dark. When it came to bad guys, there were always more in the dark.

“Kuitak?”

“Your will, my queen?” said a Volghul from the shadows at her right shoulder.

“If the paladin moves or uses that magnificent voice of his again, tear out his Guardian’s throat.”

In the blink of an eye, the Volghul had the man’s throat in his claws, and the demon queen held the Scythe poised above the Saghred.

“I have everything I need.” Her smile spread as she looked at Mychael. “A strong and desirable body for my husband to inhabit, and the elfling to wield the Saghred for us.” She spoke without turning to a pair of Volghuls standing behind her. “Find the goblin. He is here; I have caught his scent.” She inhaled in pure pleasure. “Still delectable,” she breathed. “Bring him to me; do what you will to the human with him.”

One of the Volghuls ran a quick black tongue over purple lips. “We hunger, Your Majesty.”

She dismissively waved her free hand. “Then feed on him, but be quick about it.”

My power was free to do with as I willed. No Hellgate distortion was holding me back, and the queen knew it. But the captive Guardian held the source of that power clutched in white-knuckled hands. If I tapped my Saghred-spawned power, would the Saghred take him? Would it take all of us? I had no idea what the damned rock would do.

I knew what I wanted to do, what I had to do. That Guardian wasn’t going to die. Mychael wasn’t going to be possessed by the demon king and then had by his bitch bride. I didn’t care what I had to do to save him, but he would walk out of here alive, soul intact. We all would.

She had the Saghred, but I was the Saghred. And I was really pissed off.

Mychael’s hand lightly touched my arm, telling me to wait. He was buying time. We didn’t have any time; the Guardian had even less time, and the smug demon not a dozen feet in front of me was acting like she had all the time in the world. She wanted Tam here to watch.

Tam.

He wasn’t here. That was what Mychael was waiting for. And from the silence, the demons hadn’t found him or Vegard. We would have heard that. All we heard was silence. Deadly silence. Killing quiet. I’d seen Tam do it before, and I was sure Vegard was equally qualified, and both of them couldn’t be more motivated. I put on my best poker face and kept it there-and I kept my thoughts on the captive Guardian and the sweetness of payback.

Tam was fast.

He rose up behind the queen’s guards like Death himself, and with one sweep of his demon-killer blade, two Volghuls lost their heads. From the surprised hisses and thumps in the dark, Vegard was having similar success.

Mychael’s voice rang out, and the Volghul’s claws clenched in rigid paralysis at the big vein in the Guardian’s throat. The queen snatched the Saghred from his hands and plunged the Scythe into it, slicing through the stone like living flesh.

My flesh.

I screamed. The Saghred and I were one. Flesh of my flesh. My screams turned to agonized gasps. No air. So cold. I tried to stay on my feet. I had to; I had to get that rock. I felt myself sinking to the floor. You’re not bleeding, Raine. You haven’t been stabbed. Get up!

Tendrils of multicolored light writhed their way out of the Saghred. I felt each soul flow up the blade as if it were coming out through my own skin. Elongated shapes of dark shadow and mist, breaking free into the air around us, circling, searching.

The demon queen saw it and laughed, high and wild, and utterly insane.

Until the light from Mychael’s hand took her in the chest and flung her backward, slamming her against the far wall. Tam was waiting for her.

Mychael caught the Saghred as it fell.

No. Oh please, no.

I heard Tam’s shout, Vegard’s roar, and everything slowed until time barely moved at all.

“Drop it!” It was my voice screaming at him, but I sounded so far away. Too far to reach him in time.

Mychael didn’t drop the Saghred; he didn’t even shield himself. He couldn’t do what he had to with shields in his way. He held the stone tightly against him and pulled on the Scythe with everything he had.

It didn’t budge.

Only for you, Raine.

It was a voice and not a voice. It could have been the rock; it could have been me. I was the bond servant; Mychael wasn’t. I had blood on me where the queen had slashed my neck. I was a Saghred sacrifice waiting to happen. Another wraith flowed up the Scythe to freedom. Maybe the Saghred was too busy spitting out souls to suck mine in. Maybe.

It didn’t matter. Mychael wasn’t going to die or worse because of me.

I was the Saghred; and the Saghred was mine.

I dragged myself to Mychael’s side and put my hand over his, over the Scythe. Something in the Saghred responded to my touch.

Or someone.

Mychael felt it. He moved his hand from the Scythe to grip the Saghred in both hands, holding it for me. I pulled on the blade.

And someone inside the stone pushed.

My father was pushing the Scythe out. When the blade was out, the gash would close. He knew this; he was telling me this. He would remain inside, giving up his chance for freedom.

My father was sacrificing himself.