“Car?” His voice was thick.

They moved unchallenged to the front. No one tried to stop them, but the stench of demons was strong. Had they left anyone alive? The only sound came from the other side of the fortress. Snarls and howls. The guard dogs must have something cornered. She hadn’t seen them, but they sounded big and fierce. When they got within view of the gate, Anna saw the stone wolves were gone, and the growling sounds were moving this way.

“Oh my God. Run!” She hurried toward the fence, half dragging the prisoner. She glanced back and saw the massive creatures, not stone now, but flesh and blood, eyes red, long fangs snapping like hellhounds.

“They smell my blood,” the prisoner said, pulling free. “Go on without me.” The wolves were only a hundred yards away.

“No.” She grabbed his arm and yanked. “You’re not dying on me now.” But she knew as injured as the prisoner was, the wolves would catch them before they cleared the fence. She needn’t have worried. The iron gate stood open. They ran through and kept on running. When Anna glanced back, the fortress was gone, though the snarling continued. She expected to see them leaping at her from thin air, but the wolves didn’t follow. Maybe they couldn’t move past the veil.

By the time they reached the car, she was slumped under the prisoner’s weight and sweating with exhaustion and fear.

“Not again,” the prisoner muttered, looking at the car.

“What?”

“I’ve been in one of these before.”

Anna heard a roar behind them, but this didn’t sound like the wolves. Voltar? Tristol? Whatever it was, they needed to get out of here now. She quickly helped the prisoner inside and reclined his seat since it seemed questionable how long he could remain sitting. Then she hurried around to the other side, started the car, and threw it into gear. With one eye on the mirror, she raced away from the fortress. Even lying down, the prisoner bounced around the seat so much Anna was afraid he’d hit his head on the door and that would finish him off. Holding the steering wheel with one hand, she leaned across him and buckled his seatbelt. Her tires squealed as she hit pavement, and the prisoner fell against the door.

She grabbed his hand. “It’s OK. I’m taking you somewhere safe. Try to rest.” And stop bleeding.

His eyes closed, and his body slumped. Anna felt his pulse. Not as weak as she had expected, but he still needed a doctor. If they didn’t get away from their pursuers, she was afraid they’d need an undertaker and not medical help. Bree’s house was closer. She could call Tomas the medic and have him and the other warriors meet her there. She had to warn the clan that Tristol and Voltar were here. If they didn’t already know. Were the demons working together or against each other? The vampires at Tristol’s fortress hadn’t seemed like intruders. Everything was insane. Was this how the apocalypse would go down? The world destroyed by a battle between vampires and demons. Or would the battle be humans against vampires and demons?

She glanced at the prisoner again, strong legs covered to the knee by his kilt, his shirt soaked in blood. Why were two ancient demons so desperate to get him?

She found a wad of napkins from a fast-food drive-through and pushed them against his wound. She had to keep him alive. It was up to her. Because if he was who she thought he was, then no one was looking for him.

* * *

Of all the Seekers, he had to be stuck with this one. Arrogant prick.

“Keep up,” the baldheaded man said.

Most Seekers were bald for some reason Ronan had never figured out. Maybe their heads couldn’t find lost things and grow hair at the same time. But not all of them were so bad-tempered. Probably overcompensating for his lack of height. He was a full head shorter than Ronan.

“I’m on your bloody heels,” Ronan said, tempted to move past him and really piss him off. Seekers hated it when someone went ahead of them. They’d found Anna’s car parked on a side road in the middle of nowhere. It was already dark, not the best time to search, but it was the only time this Seeker had open, else they’d have to wait another day for another Seeker to arrive. “Are you certain she’s here?” Perhaps she left her car here and rode with someone else.

“She’s here. Close by. Can you take it from here?” the Seeker asked. He seemed anxious to get back.

Was he kidding? This was his job. To find people. Find things. “Sure.” Asshole. He’d find Anna himself, now that he had a starting point.

After the Seeker drove off, Ronan picked up Anna’s tracks in the dirt. At least a woman’s. They must be Anna’s if the Seeker was right. The tracks were no more than a couple of days old. What was she doing in the middle of the woods? A minute later he saw the fence. He would have assumed someone wanted their privacy, but the gates were open. He sniffed the air. That wasn’t good. Demons. He pulled his collapsed sword from its sheath at his belt and pushed the button to extend it. The soft metallic ring sounded loud against the quiet of night. He walked through the gate, but there was nothing here but trees. From the looks of the gate, he’d expected an estate.

He studied the ground, trying to pick up Anna’s tracks again, and plowed headfirst into something hard. Still holding his sword, he staggered back. The right side of his body vanished. “What the…” He stepped forward and saw a large stone wolf. Several of them, all lined up like guards. Behind them stood a tall fortress. Smack in the middle of nowhere. Cloaked, just like the Albany castle. Ripples of alarm ran across his back. Two cloaked structures just miles apart? What were the chances of that?

Crouching beside the stone wolf, he studied the place to determine the best way to get inside. Anna must be here. He wasn’t about to knock on the door and see if she was a guest. The fortress was tall. Lots of windows to gain entry if he couldn’t find another way in. Good thing it was dark.

He heard a sound behind him, like ice cracking on his mountain lake in the spring thaw. Warm air touched his neck, and he turned. The stone wolf stared at him. But its eyes looked red. He must be imagining it. Ronan blinked, and the wolf blinked back. Its teeth were bared, and he saw its haunches turning from stone to fur. “Holy—” He jumped aside as the wolf sprang. Its shoulder bumped him, and he fell. Rolling to his feet, he lifted his sword and faced the snarling beast. It was huge, eyes level with his. No way he could outrun it.

Ronan waited until it attacked. When it was midair, he drove his sword into the beast’s heart. It was moving too fast for him to get out of the way. The wolf collapsed on him, four hundred pounds, not muscle and bone and fur, but crumbling stone.

The cracking sound started again. The eyes of the next wolf turned from stone to dull red. His whole body hurt, and it took all his strength to shove the stones aside. He leapt to his feet a second before a giant paw smashed down where his head had been. Time to go.

He sprinted to the left of the castle toward a tree with several low branches. He could feel the wolf right behind him. He grabbed one of the branches and swung himself up, scrambling to a higher branch. The wolf leapt, and Ronan climbed higher until its teeth were well below his feet. Several others joined the hunt, snapping and snarling as they circled the tree. If only he had his bow. He judged the distance to the nearest balcony. Could he jump that far? Before he could test his agility, the wolves put their noses to the air and ran off. They’d scented someone else to torment. He crouched on the tree limb, pitying whatever they’d targeted. He dropped down, landing on his feet, and hurried toward the fortress. He had to find Anna. He didn’t know what she was doing here, but it wasn’t likely that she was here by choice. Not with that hairy welcoming party.

The front door stood open. That in itself was alarming, even if he hadn’t just nearly been eaten by monster wolves. He didn’t hear anything inside. Holding his sword ready, he spun and entered. There were piles of dust everywhere. Like the ones in the battle with Druan. Bloody vampires. What the hell had happened here? Anna was tough, but she couldn’t have killed all these vampires alone. Maybe the wolves? A body lay near the staircase. Not human. Demon. Not Anna’s work. A demon would have disappeared if a warrior killed it. His blood started to pump harder. Bree said Anna was in danger. Was he too late? The wolves…maybe they were after her. He rushed back to the door as he called the castle for backup. The wolves were stone again. Whatever they were chasing had gotten away, or it was too late. But Anna could still be here. Someone was. He could feel eyes watching him.

He turned back to the wide staircase leading from the first floor. It was littered with piles of dust. He followed the trail of ash to the second floor and stepped over a pile of demon guts. This place must have been fancy without all the dust and blood.

The third floor had even more ash. More than dead bodies. The vampires had lost. At the end of one room, he saw a shattered door and found a room that had clearly been the site of a battle. Furniture smashed and things toppled off shelves. Someone was partial to emeralds.

He still didn’t hear anyone, but he could feel eyes watching him. The only thing he saw was a life-size portrait of a woman in a mirror. He continued his search while waiting for the others to arrive. If Anna was captive here, she might be in the dungeon.

He discovered other dead vampires and a few demons as he made his way to the dungeon. It was nicer down here than the living quarters of some castles he’d visited, and many he’d broken into, but its purpose was obvious the farther he went. He found a room filled with instruments of torture. Blood still stained the floor. He sniffed. Not Anna’s. After the vampire bite he’d gotten two years ago, his sense of smell was even stronger. He healed faster, moved quicker.

Still searching, he found cells with shackles on the walls and floors, and in the deepest bowels of the dungeon there was a room that had obviously been lived in. The door was open. Inside there was an unmade bed, a toilet, and a sink. His guts tightened into knots. There was something about the room, a smell, a feel, that made him sick. He hadn’t been attacked so far, so he ignored stealth and called out Anna’s name.

Where was she?

The wolves. The bloody damned wolves. She must have drawn them away.

* * *

The woman looked at the desecration. Tristol would be furious. All his hard work destroyed, and by Voltar, one of the League. She’d never liked any of them. Traitorous backstabbing bastards. But Voltar was the worst. Even Tristol considered him an enemy. She should have killed Voltar long ago. She would have killed him this time, if she’d been here. But she’d only arrived in time to see him fling the hybrid aside and run from the castle.

She had failed Tristol. She had worked hard to protect him, fighting battles he didn’t know existed, paving his way to glory. For centuries she had hidden in the shadows, watching and protecting from afar. But when he really needed her, she hadn’t been here.

Her gaze fell on the hybrid, who was standing in the shadow of a statue. Another enemy, but Tristol deserved this one. He’d stolen everything from the hybrid. The lost look on his face stirred her heart. He stared at the handsome warrior at the bottom of the stairs, jaw clenched under his beard. As the warrior started out the door, the hybrid started forward, then stopped. His shoulders slumped, and he dropped to the floor as if his legs had been cut away. He put his head in his hands, and she heard a raw, wounded cry. The kind of cry that only came when you were alone and thought no one listened. Her own eyes grew damp. He was bloody and bruised, would probably die from his injuries if she didn’t kill him on Tristol’s behalf. But something stopped her. Instead, she moved back to the emerald room. Nearly everything here had been destroyed from the battle. She moved in front of the mirror and touched the markings on the side. She closed her eyes, questioning her own sanity as the whirring began.

* * *

Ronan stepped outside the fortress, disturbed in a way he couldn’t explain. It wasn’t just Anna. Something else was wrong. He felt like stone, like one of those wolves. And there they were, still lined up, cold and hard, as if he’d just dreamed that not an hour ago they’d been trying to rip him apart.

He quickly checked the outside of the castle, praying they hadn’t gotten Anna, but he didn’t find any bodies. He did find footprints. Two sets. A woman and a man. The man was barefoot and limping. Ronan saw a drop of blood. And injured. Had they gotten away?