Something told her not to cry out, not to call for the dog.

Who murdered Brenden? How many of the vampires had escaped Leesil's fire? Why had they lured Chap into the forest? If they wanted to kill the dog, they could have done it while he slept alone by the tavern's fire.

The dog's cry suddenly stopped. So did she.

Two breaths later, the wail burst out of the night again, and she could tell Chap had changed directions. He was chasing something through the trees. Or was something leading him?

She realized that crashing through the forest like a wounded bear would only give her away, so she gathered her skirt in one hand, clutched her falchion in the other, and moved more carefully through the trees.

Damn Welstiel. How had he known? Leesil was neither careless nor foolish, and he'd been certain nothing could survive the burning collapse of that warehouse. The brush was dense around her, and she stepped cautiously over bushes and through damp nettles.

Chap's voice was closer now. An odd relief grew inside her that she would see him within a wail or two. Then, like a bird shot in flight, his death song ended. It did not return.

Throwing caution aside, Magiere ran in the direction of his last cry. Falling into a small clear patch, she scarcely believed the sight.

A lovely young woman with dark brown curls and a torn red dress stood calmly, holding one hand out, speaking soft words. An arm's length away from her, Chap stood quivering and trembling. He growled, but his voice and expression lacked conviction. If he'd been a human, Magiere would have called him "confused."

"It's all right, my sweet," the woman said, her tiny, pale hand offering him a caress. "Come and sit with me here. You are very special."

Both dog and woman were so intent upon each other that neither noticed Magiere's entrance-though it could hardly be called a quiet one.

"Chap!" she snapped. "Get away from her."

Both sets of eyes turned in her direction, and the haze left Chap's expression. He shook his head and charged to her side. He whined, pacing back and forth around her and watching the small woman in red.

"Is that how you killed Brenden?" Magiere asked, falchion pointing at the woman. "You used some trick?"

The woman smiled, and Magiere felt its power like a physical blow. Small white teeth flashed from a face so gentle and innocent and warm that she might have been the source of love.

"You need to talk," she said. 'To tell someone your troubles. I know these things. You've lost your friend… Leesil? Is that his name? Come sit with me, and I will listen. Tell me everything and then perhaps we can find him together."

On a starkly conscious level, Magiere desired nothing more than to sink down beside this woman and pour out the last twenty years of her life. But she did not. Rage swelled up inside her, and fangs began to grow inside her mouth with a sharp, but now familiar, speed.

"That won't work," she half whispered. "Not on me." She stepped closer. "Are you armed? For your sake, I hope so."

Images from the woman's mind floated into Magiere's.

Teesha. This woman's name was Teesha.

"I think not," Teesha answered calmly. "Why should I when I have a swordsman?"

"I don't see him here," Magiere replied, but banter grew difficult, and she feared losing control.

There was no rage or lust for revenge or madness in Teesha's eyes. Everything she did, everything she said, was calculated. Magiere hesitated, uncertain. This creature's powers were different from Rashed's or Ratboy's.

Chap growled low, and Magiere clung to rational thought. Teesha backed slowly toward the tree line. This vampire was afraid.

"You didn't think I'd be here, did you?" Magiere asked. "Or you would have come prepared." The truth became clear. This was all some plan to remove Leesil and Brenden. "I can kill you, and you can't stop me."

She stepped forward to swing, but the ground where Teesha stood was vacant. A rapidly fleeing voice echoed through the trees.

"You'll have to find me first."

Magiere pursued. Behind her, Chap whined and then began barking loudly. She stopped and turned. Chap remained standing tensely in the clearing, barking at her, and Magiere's thoughts cleared again.

This undead woman was trying to draw her away from the real reason she'd come out here.

Wiping savage thoughts from her mind, Magiere ran back to Chap. "Go, I'll follow."

Chap turned and sprinted off into the forest.

Still panting, Leesil clutched the broken branch and forced himself to wait, to play the lame bird luring the fox in. If he attacked out of desperation, he would die.

Ratboy's pleasure and confidence were now marred. The blades thrust through his sides couldn't have hurt him much, but he was now openly angry. And that might make him careless again. He looked less human now and more like a filthy, feral creature.

"This is so much fun," he spit out, but there was less laughter in his voice than before. "I might even bring you home-except I have no home. Do you remember Rashed? Tall, dark-haired, dead eyes, big sword? Yes, I bet he'd love a word with you. That warehouse meant a lot to him, you know, more than simply a business. It represented freedom and his ability to exist in your world. Can your small mind understand such ideas?"

Leesil's chest hurt so badly that every breath cost effort, but he regained his composure and tried to appear restful. Pulling himself up, he flopped back to lean against the tree.

"If you'd stop your senseless chatter, we could go and meet him now," Leesil said. "I doubt he'd take this long to kill me."

Any remaining glee on Ratboy's face now faded. "Do you wish death?"

"Anything is better than listening to you."

Leesil tensed, anticipating a rapid lunge. When it came in a blur of movement, he fell back into the past and became a product of his parents' teachings, someone able to set aside pain, someone able to strike a focal point with fluid second nature and the right amount of force. His hand thrust out of its own accord just before Ratboy's hands could reach him.

The sharp, jagged end of the branch burrowed into the center of Ratboy's chest before either of them could grasp what had happened. A small spray of warm, black-red blood spattered Leesil's jaw and ear as he tried to roll out of the way.

Ratboy screamed in shock and what sounded like fear. The undead stumbled back, wildly clawing at the branch in his chest.

"Leesil! Where are you?"

Those words had come from out of the forest, not from the beggar boy's gaping mouth.

Magiere was somewhere in the trees. Relief flooded Leesil's mouth like water, but he found shouting impossible.

"Here," he tried to call. "I'm here."

One of Ratboy's hands found its way around the branch, and he pulled it out. But he behaved nothing like he had when he'd pulled a crossbow quarrel from his body. He was choking, and blood poured, rather than leaked, from his body. He alternately gagged and whimpered, pressing both hands over the hole in his chest.

"I hit your heart, didn't I?" Leesil managed to whisper. "I didn't pierce it completely, but I hit it. What happens when you bleed out? Will you fall limp, too weak to move, and lie in fear till the sun rises?"

Ratboy gargled spitting sounds and stared at him in panic. Approaching footsteps could be heard, and Chap's growls. The undead made a limping run for the trees away from the approaching sounds.

Ratboy disappeared through one side of the clearing as Chap burst through from the other. Magiere was close behind the dog. Through a haze of exhaustion, Leesil felt a tongue licking his face and Magiere's hands on him, searching for injury.

"Are you cut?" she asked. Then she asked louder again when he didn't answer immediately, "Are you cut?"