“And this world doesnae need another powerful Warrior who fights on the side of Darkness.”

“I know that, and I’ll never fight for Darkness again,” Stark said grimly. “I watched Zoey’s soul shatter because of a single act, so I understand about that, too.”

“Then weigh your actions carefully,” the queen told him. “In the Otherworld and in this world. And consider this—the young and naïve believe love to be the strongest force in the universe. Those of us who are more, let us say, realistic know that a single person’s will, strengthened by integrity and purpose, can be more powerful than a score of lovestruck romantics.

“I’ll remember. I promise.” Stark barely heard his own words. He would have sworn to cut off his arm if that had been what Sgiach needed to hear to get the damn ball rolling and get him to the Other-world.

As if she could read his mind, the queen shook her head sadly, and said, “Very well, then. Let your quest begin.” Then she lifted her hand and commanded, “Raise the Seol ne Gigh.”

There was a whooshing and a series of clicking sounds. The floor in front of the queen’s dais, just beyond where Zoey rested, opened, and a slab of rust-colored stone rose from beneath the floor. It was as tall as his waist, wide and long enough for a grown vampyre to lie on its flat surface. He saw the rock was covered with intricate knotwork, and on either side of the floor surrounding it were two grooves that were curved almost like a bow. They were thicker at one end than the other, and the narrow part formed sharp points. Studying it, Stark suddenly realized two things.

The grooves looked like massive horns.

The rock wasn’t really rust-colored. It was white marble. The rust color was stain. Bloodstain.

“This is the Seol ne Gigh, the Seat of the Spirit,” Sgiach said. “It is an ancient place of sacrifice and worship. For longer than we have memories, it has been the conduit to Darkness and Light—to the white and black bulls that form the basis of the power of the Guardians.”

“Sacrifice and worship,” Aphrodite said, moving closer to the stone. “What kind of sacrifice do you mean?”

“Aye, well, that depends on yer quest, does it not?” Seoras said.

“That’s not an answer,” Aphrodite said.

“Sure and it is, lass,” the Guardian said, smiling grimly at her. “And yie know it, whether yie will be of a mind tae admit it or no.”

“Sacrifice is okay with me,” Stark said, brushing a hand across his brow wearily. “Tell me what, or who”—he shot a sideways glance at Aphrodite, not caring that it made Darius bristle—“I need to grab and use for the sacrifice, and I’ll do it.”

“It’ll be you that’ll be the sacrifice, laddie,” Seoras said.

“I think it will help that he’s in a weakened state during the daylight hours. It should make it easier for his spirit to slip from his body.” Sgiach spoke to her Guardian almost as if Stark weren’t in the room.

“Aye, you have a point. Most Warriors fight the leavin’ of the body. Bein’ weak might make that part easier,” Seoras agreed.

“So what do I have to do? Find a virgin or something?” He didn’t look at Aphrodite then, ’cause, well, she obviously didn’t fit in that category.

“It’s you who’s the sacrifice, Warrior. The blood of another will not do. This is your quest, from beginning to end. Are you still willing to begin, Stark?” Sgiach said.

“Yes.” Stark didn’t hesitate.

“Then lie on the Seol ne Gigh, young MacUallis Guardian. Your Chieftain will draw your blood, take you to a place between life and death. The stone will take your offering. The white bull has spoken, and you will be accepted. He will guide your spirit to the Otherworld gate. It is up to you to gain entry from there, and may the Goddess have mercy on your soul,” the queen said.

“All right. Good. Let’s get this thing done.” But Stark didn’t go straight to the Seol ne Gigh. Instead, he knelt beside Zoey. Ignoring the fact that everyone in the room was watching, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently, whispering against her lips, “I’m coming for you. This time I won’t let you down.” Then he stood, drew his shoulders back, and went over to the massive stone.

Seoras had moved from his queen’s side and was standing in front of the head of the stone. Meeting Stark’s gaze steadily, he unsheathed a wickedly sharp dirk that had been resting in a worn leather scabbard at his waist.

“Hang on, hang on!” Unbelievably, Aphrodite was pawing around in the abnormally large metallic leather bag she’d lugged all the way from Venice.

Stark had seriously had it with her. “Aphrodite, now is not the time.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake, finally. I knew I couldn’t lose anything this big and smelly.” She pulled out a quart-sized baggie filled with brown twigs and needles, and gestured at one of the Warriors standing around the perimeter of the room, snapping her fingers and looking more regal than Stark would ever admit aloud. She had the burly-looking guy practically running to take the thing from her while she said, “Before you start what I’m sure is going to be some very unattractive blood-letting, someone needs to burn these, like incense, over here by Stark.”

“What the hell?” Stark said, shaking his head at Aphrodite and wondering, not for the first time, if the girl really was mentally damaged.

She rolled her eyes at him. “Grandma Redbird told Stevie Rae, who told me, that burning cedar is some kind of big, powerful, Cherokee mojo in the spirit world.”

“Cedar?” Stark said.

“Yes. Breathe it in and take it with you while you go to the Other-world. And, please, close your mouth and get ready to bleed,” Aphrodite said. She shifted her attention to Sgiach. “I think you’d consider Grandma Redbird a Shaman. She’s wise and definitely hooked into the whole earth-has-a-soul thing. She said cedar would help Stark.”

The Warrior she’d given the baggie to glanced at his queen. She shrugged and nodded, saying, “It cannot hurt.” After a metal brazier had been lit and a few needles added, Aphrodite smiled, bowed her head slightly to Seoras, and said, “Okay, now let’s get this thing done.”

Stark bit back the words he wanted to yell at annoying Aphrodite. He needed to focus. He’d remember to breathe in cedar because Grandma Redbird knew her stuff, and the bottom line was he needed to get to Zoey and protect her. Stark wiped his hand across his forehead, wishing he could wipe away the tired fog that settled with daylight over his brain.

“Dinnae struggle against it. Yie need tae be feelin’ out of sorts tae slip from yer body. It isnae a natural thing for a Warrior to be doin’.” Seoras used his dirk to point at the flat surface of the huge stone. “Bare yer chest and lie here.”

Stark pulled off his sweatshirt, and the T-shirt under it, and then he lay on the stone.

“I see yie have already been marked,” Seoras said, pointing at the pink burn scar of a broken arrow that covered the left side of his chest.

“Yeah. For Zoey.”

“Aye, well, then ’tis only right that yie are marked again for her.”

Stark braced himself, lying stiff against the bloodstained stone. It should have been cold and dead, but the instant his skin touched the marble surface, the heat in it began to build beneath him. Warmth radiated rhythmically from within it, like a beating pulse.

“Ach, aye, yie can feel it,” said the ancient Guardian.

“It’s hot,” Stark said, looking up at him.

“For those of us who are Guardians, it lives. Do yie trust me, lad?”

Stark blinked, surprised by Seoras’s question, but his answer was unhesitant. “Yes.”

“I’ll be takin’ yie to the place afore death. Yie need to be trustin’ in me to take yie there.”

“I trust you.” Stark did. There was something about the Warrior that resonated deeply within him. Trusting him felt like the right thing to do.