Wynn turned her serious brown eyes on Sgaile. "Then make certain no one else gets past you."

He nodded to her. "We must hurry."

Leesil hated that Wynn was right. Gripping both blades, he slipped between the heavy doors, whispering sharply, "No one gets past us."

Magiere turned and faced her half-brother, his sword in hand.

As always, her dhampir instincts never picked up his undead presence.

In a somewhat tattered cloak and scuffed boots, his hair was slicked back from his forehead and his white temples were tinged ocher in the cavern's dull glow. He was still as poised as when she'd first met him in Miiska-and as arrogant as when he'd revealed his nature to her in the sewers of Bela.

He didn't look surprised to see her.

That should have puzzled Magiere, but it didn't.

Welstiel had followed her.

In all the years he had desired the orb, he'd never found it-never could-which was why he'd toyed with her. He needed her, and for more than just bypassing the guardians he'd believed were waiting in this place.

But he had nothing to say now that Magiere wanted to hear.

All his manipulations of her had left a trail of innocents, dead and butchered, in his path, from her own mother, Magelia, to the first owner of her Sea Lion Tavern, and on to Chesna, torn and bleeding to death on her father's porch. Welstiel was a monster, regardless of their sharing a father- who'd given neither of them a choice in what they were.

Magiere hesitated with a quick glance at Li'kan.

The white undead gave Welstiel no notice, gazing only at the orb with her fingertips poised on the metal hoop about her throat.

Magiere didn't care to face Welstiel out on the narrow bridge above the chasm. She had to either lure him to the platform or drive him back to the hollow of the cavern's entrance.

"No, not at all what I expected," Welstiel repeated.

"What didn't you expect?" she asked, hoping he might advance.

"I am moved by the sight of you." But his tone carried no such sentiment. "Your black hair, that old armor, and you… so determined that you actually found it. We are alike, you and I. We share the same blood."

Her welcome old anger finally came to her.

"I have blood-you don't. We're nothing alike!"

"No? But you can feel it, just as I can."

Welstiel held both arms out wide in a grand gesture, sword still in hand, and smiled softly.

Magiere did feel it-her hunger had become distant, like a vague memory. She felt all of the dhampir within her, yet her mind was clear.

Welstiel lowered his arms. "Take it, Magiere. Bring it to me. I understand it as no one else does, and what it can do… for us. It is freedom from what our father put upon us."

And Magiere saw the tactic she needed.

Her intentions for the orb didn't matter. Telling Welstiel it belonged with the sages would only keep him arguing. She was tired of his coy persuasion, always pulling her off balance or driving her where he wanted.

"I understand it," she hissed. "No more hunger, yes? No more hunger… for me!"

She settled a hand on the orb's spike, tilted her head down, and cast him a mocking glance.

"I don't share what's already mine!"

Welstiel's eyes flicked toward Li'kan, but the ancient undead remained enraptured by the orb. Magiere slid her falchion from its sheath, sweeping the blade up before her, and Welstiel shifted his gaze to it.

Magiere felt sickened for an instant. Her half-brother had made this weapon, connecting him to her. And still, he hesitated upon the bridge.

Did he wonder if he could survive against a hunter of the dead, the thing he'd helped create? No, his real fear was making the wrong choice and losing his prime desire-the orb, his obsession.

Magiere grew anxious. She'd never been good at manipulation. She met things head-on, the only way she knew how to win. And she couldn't wait any longer.

She took a step onto the bridge toward Welstiel.

A presence-another undead-expanded in her awareness, and she stopped.

Chane walked toward them along the narrow stone bridge, longsword in hand.

He too looked weatherworn, but his red-brown hair was cut jaggedly shorter than the last time she'd seen him-on the night she'd taken his head in Droevinka. As he drew closer, she saw the scar around his throat. Vapor rising from the chasm left a sheen upon his pale skin.

Welstiel never looked back; he simply smiled. The odds had changed.

But Chane's sudden appearance didn't make Magiere fearful for herself. She had left Leesil and the others to watch her back, and yet here was Chane. So what had become of her companions?

Where was Leesil?

"I have no need to kill you, Magiere," Welstiel said. "Just bring me the orb… and after I leave, you and yours can go."

Chane halted and flinched sharply. His gaze fixed on Welstiel's back.

Magiere had no time to ponder Chane's strange pause. She'd never faced Welstiel in a straight-up fight, not as she had with Chane. And Chane had nearly bested her twice. Her main advantage now became the bridge's narrow path. Only one of them could come at her at a time, if she blocked both from getting to the platform.

Even if Welstiel did get past her, Magiere didn't believe Li'kan would allow him near the orb. She shook her head slowly.

"You're such a coward," she said. "Always in hiding, killing the defense-less in the dark."

"I saved you!" he answered, and anger leaked into his voice. "I brought you to that village myself! I left you armor and my own weapon, and amulets that kept you alive, until you faced who and what you are."

"So selfless!" she spit. "Take my head then, and you can have it all back… along with your prize."

Welstiel suddenly half-crouched upon the bridge, clearing Magiere's view of Chane.

"Kill her," he said calmly.

Magiere tensed.

Chane swung his longsword back and forth like a pendulum. With glittering hatred in his eyes, he arched the blade back and up-and then lunged in behind Welstiel, dropping low.

Magiere went rigid, but Chane didn't leap toward her.

He grabbed Welstiel's left forearm and slammed Welstiel's hand upon the bridge. Welstiel fell to one knee. Before he could turn or jerk free, Chane brought his sword down.

The blade split through Welstiel's gloved fingers and clanged upon the stone.

Welstiel cried out in pain-and Magiere's instincts sharpened.

Welstiel's undead presence flooded Magiere's awareness, like a curtain ripped away from a window to expose the night outside. He dropped his sword, and it clattered on the bridge as he grabbed his maimed hand.

Chane snatched up Welstiel's severed fingers and backed up along the bridge.

"Kill her yourself!" he rasped and turned to run.

He reached the cavern's entrance hollow and vanished in a pocket of darkness beyond the reach of the chasm's light.

Magiere held her place in stunned confusion.

She watched Welstiel's pale face twist. Black fluids dripped from his fingerless hand as he stood up, looking after Chane. Then he whirled to face her.

Open fear flickered across Welstiel's features. He quickly snatched up his sword and backed along the bridge.

Magiere spasmed as another undead presence filled up her senses.

Beyond Welstiel, the muscular undead with the iron bar stepped into the chasm's dim light.

"Here!" Welstiel shouted. "Defend me!"

Magiere rushed onto the bridge to take Welstiel's head.