This place won’t kill me. I will survive. I won’t break.
Curran smiles at me. He’s holding his hand out. I know he’ll come for me.
He’ll come for me. He just might be too late.
• • •
NOISE. LOW RHYTHMIC noise, like the pounding of some giant heart.
It keeps getting louder.
It keeps coming.
I’m hallucinating again.
Pain.
My left hand is gripping the grate. There is a chunk of brick on the other side of the grate next to it.
There is a chunk of a brick.
My mind started working slowly, like a rusty engine trying to will itself back to life.
Thud! Something hit the wall above us.
Another brick bounced off the grate.
I reached over and shook Ghastek. He hung motionless in his restraints. I could barely move him.
Thud!
“Ghastek,” I whispered. “Ghastek . . .”
His eyes opened slowly.
Thud.
Bricks showered the grate. In the dim light of the electric lamps, the shaft wavered, blurry, but I saw the hole about twenty feet up. Another thud. More bricks plunged down, bouncing off the metal. Someone moved at the top of the hole, leaped, and landed on the grate. Gray eyes looked at me.
Curran.
Please let it be real.
He stared at me. His eyes were horrified. “Kate? Jesus Christ.”
My lips moved. “Please be real.”
He pulled a metal hacksaw out of his backpack and started slicing through the grate. “Stay with me, baby.”
This was a dream. Another hallucination. Or Hugh screwing with my head. I braced myself. I would wake up and he would disappear.
Two others landed on the grate. Jim. Thomas, the rat alpha.
Jim saw me and swore.
“Get me out,” Ghastek whispered. “Please.”
“I should leave you in there, you sonovabitch,” Curran snarled. “Cut him out.”
Jim pulled out another saw.
The blade sliced through the bars above me. Back and forth. Back and forth.
Please be real. I reached through the bars and touched his fingers in cutoff gloves. His hand was warm.
“Hold on, baby. I’ve got you.”
A creature tumbled out of the hole and landed on the grate. Hairless and muscled, it crouched on all fours as if it had never walked upright. Thick curved talons crowned the toes of its feet. Its chest was wide, its hindquarters muscled like those of a boxer dog. A bone ridge protruded from its spine. The massive jaws unhinged and finger-sized fangs pierced the air. Its eyes, deep set and bright red, burned with hunger.
A vampire. An ancient vampire, so old it sent a shiver down my spine.
Curran whipped around. The vamp leaped. Curran’s right hand closed on the vamp’s throat. He spun, oblivious to the talons ripping at his jacket, and drove the undead’s head into the wall. The vamp’s skull bounced off the brick. Curran bared his teeth and smashed it into the wall again and again, his face savage.
The bones cracked. Undead blood splashed the bricks. Curran ran the bloodsucker into the brick one last time, and twisted its head off like he was wringing out the laundry. The vamp body fell one way, the head went the other.
“Show-off,” I whispered.
“Hold on. Almost through.”
He gripped the grate. The skin of his fingers turned gray—the silver burning him. Curran strained. His legs shook under the pressure. The last two bars bent, and he pushed part of the grate aside like a lid on a can. He dropped to his knees and reached for me. I slid out of my restraints. Someone must’ve turned my legs to lead, because they pulled me down like an anchor. I sank. The water rose over my neck and my mouth . . . He grabbed my arm, pulled me up through the grate, out into the air, and hugged me to him.
He smelled like Curran. He felt like him. I buried my face in the bend of his neck. His skin was so hot, it burned.
“Don’t die on me.” He kissed my face, pulling off his jacket. “Don’t die on me.”
I couldn’t stand. I just slumped there on top of the grate, holding on to him.
He wrapped me in his jacket, closed his arms around me, and jumped. Then we were in a narrow hallway. He carried me through it.
“I love you,” I told him.
“I love you, too.” His voice was raw. “Stay alive, Kate.”
“Ghastek . . .”
“They’ll get him. Don’t worry. Stay with me.”
“Where would I go?”
He squeezed me to him. “I’m going to kill that fucker.”
“Dibs,” I told him. “He broke my sword.”
“Fuck the sword. I almost lost you.” He kicked a door open and lowered me to a fire built on the concrete floor. “Andrea, clothes! Quickly.”
Curran ripped my shirt in half. My pants came off—someone was pulling off my sodden clothes. The heat of the fire swirled around me. Christopher swung into my view, his hair snow white, and held a thermos to my lips. “Drink, mistress.”
I sipped. Chicken broth. I drank again and he pulled it back. “Not so fast. You’ll get sick.”
“Hang on,” Andrea told me, and slipped socks on my feet. “Don’t ever pull this shit again, you hear me?”
“Sure,” I whispered.
“Here.” Robert handed Curran a shirt.
“What are all of you doing here?” I whispered, as Curran put it on me.
“We came to save you.” Christopher smiled. “Even me. I didn’t want to come back to this place, but I had to. I couldn’t leave you in a cage.”
He gave me more broth. I drank. Curran hugged me to him.
We were in some sort of large room. A fire burned in the center, eating the remains of office furniture. A pile of cubicle partitions rested against one wall. There were windows in the ceiling. The room looked like it was on its side. That made no sense.
“Where are we?” I whispered.
“You don’t know?” Christopher’s blue eyes widened. “We’re in Mishmar.”
Roland’s tower prison. I only knew what Voron told me of it. When the business district of Omaha fell, my father had bought the rubble from the impoverished city. He had taken colossal chunks of fallen skyscrapers, two, three, four stories tall, pulled them into a remote field somewhere in Iowa, and piled them onto each other into a huge tower, held together by magic and encircled by a wall. It was a vicious place, an ever-changing labyrinth, where exits sealed themselves and walls took on new shapes. Feral vampires roamed here. Things for which nobody had any name because they had no right to exist hunted here. There was no escape from Mishmar. Nobody ever got out.