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inopportune moments.
Assan shoved me toward the door and I stumbled. Aidyn caught me, kept me from falling.
"Enough!" he snapped, glaring at his colleague, "we do not need her to break her neck on
the eve of our triumph."
What did you say?
I jerked myself out of his grasp, my momentary grief burned away by the heat of a fury so
sudden and searing I could barely breathe past it.
"Jasmine!" Vayl's voice buzzed distant in my ear, "What is wrong? I have never sensed
such anger in you!"
"How many people have you bled out, Aidyn?" I demanded, my self-control beginning to
shear away beneath the force of my feelings. "How many necks have you broken? Don't
play gentleman with me. I know better."
"What?"
"Jasmine, God Jasmine, get hold of yourself!" Vayl's advice held no more impact than a
whisper. But I did hear him.
"Oh yeah, I'll get hold of something." I grabbed Aidyn by the lapels of his Armani jacket.
Whatever he saw on my face made his eyes go wide and scared. Assan grabbed my left
arm, but I knew I could take them. A simple twist and push would put my hand at Assan's
throat, leaving the other free to tear Aidyn's head off, after which I would punt it against
the wall. Repeatedly.
Not yet. It wasn't a voice in my head, not really. Just a silvery bolt of reason that started at
Cirilai and shot straight into my brain. I dropped my hands as the door flew open and a
couple of Assan's goons trooped in.
"What are you doing here?" snapped Aidyn. "You're supposed to be policing the exits.
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We'll be sealing them any minute now."
One man, whose hair was the color and consistency of motor oil, spoke up. "Liliana has
been watching the monitors. She told us you needed help."
Assan snorted and let go of my arm. "Hardly."
Aidyn ran both hands through his hair. "Stick to the plan, people! You two," he jabbed
two fingers at Motor Oil and his smaller, greasier pal, "back to the exits. Liliana, Derek,"
he addressed a vent in the wall which apparently hid a camera, "you should have been
downstairs with the Senator twenty minutes ago. Now, move!"
The goons scurried to obey as, I imagined, did Liliana and Derek.
"That goes for you too," Aidyn told me, his entire demeanor a Kodak moment in badly
disguised wariness.
"Sure." I gave him a Lucille Robinson shrug, knowing that Jaz must be bottled right along
with her rage if we were going to pull this off. Knowing also that when the lid came off,
payback would be a bitch.
Chapter Twenty-Five
P r e v i o u s T o p
N e x t
The scene in the monster pit had changed somewhat during my brief absence. I had a
better view for one thing. Aidyn and Assan made sure of that. They escorted me straight
to the front row while the faithful, with the addition of Bozcowski, Vayl's ex and Derek
"Doomsday" Steele, chanted words in a language I didn't understand, but which my ears
heard as, "Over llama catcha fur." The Tor-al-Degan swayed to the rhythm of the chant,
her eyes half-closed as if in a trance. I should've cared more, but my proximity to Derek
had doubled me over, and I was close to adding my own mound of puke to the nasty
puddles of glop on the floor.
While I leaned against a column, trying to regroup, Bozcowski turned to face his
audience, holding up his hands for silence. "Today, victory is ours!" he said, baring his
shiny fangs as they applauded. "No longer must we watch our goddess hover between
worlds, frustrated and impotent. We have found our willing sacrifice!" He presented me to
the clapping crowd, a farmer proudly displaying his prize heifer.
I panicked briefly as they surged toward me, but they stopped short, staying at arm's
length, well beyond reach of the Tor-al-Degan's grasp. The noise they made swept over
me though, their whoops of joy pounding through my head like an ethanol-powered
knitting needle. The monster behind me squealed, her high-pitched response making my
eyes water.
Assan strode to the back of the pit, taking three large acolytes with him, while Bozcowski
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