"Er, right. I just… didn't know they were called that."

Trsiel grinned. "You thought they were ghosts?"

"Of course not. I-"

He threw back his head and laughed. "What did you do? Try to talk to them? Entreat them to go into the light?"

I glared and stalked past him up the stairs.

After two rooms of being ignored, Trsiel offered an olive branch by way of a story, one about the woman I'd just seen. The White Lady. Ghost hunters can be the most ingenious breed when it comes to inventing ghastly tales, but ask them to think up a name for the ghost of a woman dressed in white, and they give you "the White Lady."

She was Janet Douglas, widow of the sixth Lord Glamis. She'd been burned at the stake for witchcraft, accused of conspiring to poison King James V. Her true "crime" was being the sister of Archibald Douglas, who'd expelled the young king's mother from Scotland years before. Political revenge-with a pretty, popular young widow for a pawn.

Last stop: the crypt.

I expected to descend into some dark, dank basement. Instead, Trsiel led me back to the main entrance at the foot of the clock tower, through a door to a set of narrow stairs that led up. We climbed the stairs into a long narrow room with a rounded ceiling.

"What's at the other end?" I asked.

"The dining room."

"Oooh, a dining room just off the crypt. Now, that's a feature you don't see very often these days." I looked around. "Okay, where are the stiffs? I really hope they didn't stick them in those suits of armor."

"This is actually the servants' hall. Where they originally ate and slept."

"And they called it the crypt? That can't be good."

Trsiel shook his head and prodded me forward.

"What? I'm not moving fast enough?"

I stopped. If I were a cat, my fur would have stood on end. I looked around, but all I saw was a mishmash of antiques, and two small windows at the end of the half-tunnel room.

"It's strong here, isn't it?" Trsiel said. "The strongest point, though, is in there." He pointed to the wall. "There's a room on the other side. Legend has it that Lord Glamis walled up a group of Scottish clansmen inside, sealed it, and left them to starve to death."

"Is it true?"

He nodded. "That one, I'm afraid, is more than a tall tale."

"So what we're feeling is another kind of residual. A negative energy instead of a physical form."

Trsiel went silent, cocking his head to look at the wall, eyes narrowing as if he could invoke an Aspicio power of his own and look within.

"That can happen," he said slowly. "And it would make sense in a place with such a violent history. Only one problem with the theory. Residual emotion only affects the living. The infamous 'cold spot.' Ghosts don't feel it. Neither do angels."

"If the Nix was here, I bet her visit had something to do with whatever is making us jumpy-whatever is on the other side of that wall."

"There's nothing there. I've been-"

"Doesn't hurt to check again, does it?"

"It isn't-it's not pleasant in there, Eve. There are-"

"Skeletons, right? People die, they leave bones. Nothing I haven't seen before."

He opened his mouth to argue. I stepped through the wall.

Chapter 31

HALFWAY THROUGH THE WALL, I STOPPED, EYE TO EYE socket with a skull. With an oath, I wheeled to see a skeleton leaning against the wall, face-first, hands raised, dark brown streaks above every finger bone… as if he'd died trying to claw his way out.

I turned and saw another skeleton. And another. A half-dozen of them were propped against the wall. At the foot of that wall lay piles of bones. Splotches of dried blood streaked the brick and plaster.

Walled in.

My gaze tripped over a pile of bones in the corner, neatly disarticulated and deliberately piled, each marred with scratches. Gnaw marks.

A movement to my left-Trsiel, reaching to steady me. I shook my head and strode farther into the room. The moment I did, all thoughts of those skeletons vanished as my brain and body kicked into hyperalert mode, every muscle tensing, ears straining, gaze darting about. I definitely sensed something here. Felt it-a heavy, palpable warmth, like a dry-heat sauna.

"Was I not clear enough the first time?"

The words whipped past me on a blast of hot air. The demon-repelling spell flew to my lips, but I bit it back.

This wasn't the Nix-the voice was male, deep, and resonant. Unsettlingly hypnotic, like the angel's… and yet not like it.

"Impertinent imp," the voice said. "Did you think-"

The voice stopped, and a warm current caressed my face. I stood my ground, and started the spell. A low chuckle breezed by my right ear.

"That will hurt you more than it will hurt me. I see you are not the same as the first. Two demon bloods in one day. What have I done to deserve this?"

"Two?" I paused. "Someone was here earlier, someone with demon blood. A Nix."

The voice drifted to the back of the room, as if settling onto the moth-eaten sofa there.

"Hmmm, a half-demon ghost. I can't recall the last time one of your kind has come this way. Who's your sire?"

"Answer my questions and I'll answer yours."

A faint snarl. "As impudent as the other. Do they not teach you respect these days, whelp?"

"Tell me who it is I'm supposed to be showing respect to and I'll consider it."

"If you don't know already, then I'm not about to tell-"

A noise from Trsiel, whom I'd almost forgotten was there, still by the wall. When I turned, he beckoned, backing it up with a telepathic "Let's go."

A sharp laugh sounded across the room.

"A third?" the voice said. "Truly I am blessed. And an angel, no less. Forgive me if I don't prostrate myself."

Trsiel marched into the middle of the room, chin up, trepidation falling away. "Identify yourself, demon."

"Demon?" I hissed under my breath. "I thought you said there was no demonic activity here."

Trsiel pulled his chin up higher. "I said, identify yourself-"

"Oh, I heard you, and I decline the invitation… Trsiel."

Trsiel's jaw tightened.

"Okay, forget the introduction," I said. "You said someone else with demon blood was here today. What did she want from you?"

The demon's chuckle wafted around me. "You honestly expect me to answer that, whelp?"

"Not for free, no."

"Ah, you wish to bargain for your answer?"

"No, Eve," Trsiel said. "Not with him. We'll find another way."

"I don't believe she was asking your opinion, half-blood."

Trsiel stiffened. A long raucous laugh swirled around us.

"Don't like that, do you?"

"I am a full-blood," Trsiel said.

"So you've been told, and so you wish to believe, but you know better, don't you? You are no more akin to the full-bloods than this pretty half-demon whelp is to me."

"Come on, Eve," Trsiel said, wheeling. "He'll tell you nothing but lies."

"I'm not the one who's lied to you, Trsiel. Oh, but your Creator hasn't lied, has He? He never said you were a full-blooded angel. He just doesn't care to correct that misconception. No sense sowing more dissension in the ranks. Quite enough of that already-"

"Eve," Trsiel said, voice sharpening.

"Why don't you ask Him, Trsiel?" the demon continued. "Ask Him what you are. Or does this great warrior of truth prefer the comfort of lies?"

I turned to Trsiel. "Don't listen to him. He wants you to leave-wants us both to leave."