Daughter of the Blood

pivoted, teeth bared, spearing Draca with eyes filled with cold rage. "And now?" he said too softly.
    "We'll ride the Winds," Prothvar said, pulling out his knife.
    "No time," Mephis countered. "It'll be too late."
    "Draca," Geoffrey said.
    Draca never blinked, never flinched from Saetan's glazed stare.
    "Saetan—" Andulvar began.
    Draca closed her eyes.
    A voice filled their minds, a rumble as if the Keep itself sighed.
    A male voice.
    "Sspear to sspear, High Lord. That iss the only way now. Her blood runss. If sshe diess now—"
    "She'll walk among the cildru dyathe. "
    So much sorrow in that voice. "Dreamss made flessh do not become cildru dyathe, High Lord. Sshe will be losst to uss."
    "Who are you to say this to me?" Saetan snarled.
    "Lorn."
    Saetan's heart stopped for a beat.
    "You have the courage, High Lord, to do what you musst do. The other male will be your insstrument."
    The sighing rumble faded.
    The cavern was very still.
    Turning carefully, Saetan once more faced the red-misted tether line.
    And the Blood shall sing to the Blood.
    Don't think. Be an instrument.
    Everything has a price.
    Locked in his cold, still rage, Saetan slowly drew on the power in the web, the power in his Jewels, and the power in himself until he had formed a three-edged psychic spear. With his eyes and will fixed on the Jewel chip, he sent a single, thundering summons.
    " SADI !"

5—Terreille
    "Sadi!"
    " Sadi! "
    " SADI !"
    Daemon jerked awake, head pounding, heart pounding, body throbbing. Groaning, he rubbed his fist back and forth across his forehead.
    And remembered.
    "Sadi, please."
    Daemon frowned. Even that movement hurt. "Surreal?"
    A gasping sob. "Hurry. To the Altar."
    "Surreal, what—"
    "She's bleeding! "
    He didn't remember making the pass. One moment he was cramped in the underground rectangle, the next he was braced against the tree, eyes closed, waiting for the world to stop spinning. "Surreal, get to the Altar. Now."
    "The uncles will be coming after us."
    The Sadist bared his teeth in a vicious smile. "Let them come."
    The link broke. Surreal was already riding the Winds to Cassandra's Altar.
    Daemon clung to the tree. His body could give him nothing. The Black Jewels were still drained and could give him nothing. Needing strength, he greedily drained the reserve power in his Birthright Red.
    " SADI !"
    The power behind that thundering voice hit his Red strength and absorbed it as easily as a lake absorbs a pail of water.
    Daemon clamped his hands over his head and fell to his knees. That power was tightening like a band of iron inside his head, threatening to smash his inner barriers. Snarling, he lashed back with the little strength he had left.
    "Daemon."
    Glacial rage waited for him just outside the first barrier, but now he recognized the voice.
    "Priest?" Daemon let out a gasp of relief. "Father, pull back a little. I can't . . . It's too strong."
    The power pulled back—a little.
    "You are my instrument."
    "No."
    The psychic band tightened.
    "I serve no one but Witch. Not even you, Priest," Daemon snarled.
    The band loosened, became a caress. "I, too, serve her, Prince. That's why I need you. Her blood runs."
    Daemon fought to stand up, fought to breathe. "I know. She's being taken to Cassandra's Altar." He hurt. Hell's fire, how he hurt.
    "Let me in, namesake. I won't harm you."
    Daemon hesitated, then opened himself fully. He clenched his teeth to keep from screaming as the icy rage swept into his mind. His vision doubled. He felt the tree against his back. He also felt cold stone beneath bare feet.
    The stone faded, but not completely. He slowly opened and closed his hand. It felt as though he were wearing a glove beneath his skin. Then that too faded, but not completely.
    "You're controlling my body," Daemon said with a trace of bitterness.
    "Not controlling. By joining this way, my strength will be a well for you to tap and, in turn, I will be able to see and understand what we must do to help her."
    Daemon pushed himself away from the tree. He swayed, but another pair of legs held firm. Taking a deep breath, he caught the Black Wind and hurled himself toward Cassandra's Altar.
    Daemon hurried through the ruins of the Sanctuary's outer rooms. The footsteps he'd heard a moment ago stopped. Now an angry Gray wall blocked the corridor that led into the labyrinth of inner rooms.
    "Surreal?" Daemon called softly.
    A sob answered him. The Gray wall dropped.
    Daemon ran toward her. Surreal waited for