lion

Edythe

"You think you know where Jules is?"

"Yes. She's been taken by the worst of our kind—and Beau now, too. But I'm going to do everything I can to bring them back, Sarah. I promise."

"Keep us posted, Edythe. Let us know how we can help."

"I will."

Night had fallen when our plane finally touched down at the airport. Just the way I'd had to time it—after all, one didn't get too many overcast days in the middle of late summer in Cairo, Egypt.

I was glad to have touched base with Sarah; at least now the wolves would have an idea of what was going on. Apparently Sam had already set out with Lee and Quil to look for Jules. I wished now I hadn't mentioned that it would all be happening in Europe, thereby giving them an idea of where to find us if they got ideas about taking action themselves, but there was nothing to be done about it now. However, at least I could hope they would be so focused on hoping to get Jules back they wouldn't consider seeking retribution for the breaking of the treaty—now that Beau was a vampire.

Grateful for the semester of Arabic I had taken back at Yale, I instructed the taxi driver where I wanted him to take me, handing him a rather large bill that made his eyes widen slightly, before I settled back into the backseat to think, and allowed my thoughts to race ahead.

Carine's acquaintances would take some convincing to help me. Although this coven's leader resented Sulpicia and the reign of the Volturi, I'd gotten the sense from Carine he valued his own skin too highly to ever come to the aid of a friend if it involved any risk to himself, let alone a friend of a friend.

Amun, perhaps the oldest vampire still in existence, and his original coven had once ruled Egypt as gods. But when the Volturi had decimated the Romanians, the most powerful and vicious coven of the time, Amun had seen the writing on the wall and abandoned his coven to save himself. Now I would have to be careful how I presented my case.

It was time to finally test the limits of my gift. To use its every advantage to its fullest extent, in a way I had held back from doing in the past. It was easy to guess what Amun desired most, and feared most—but often there could be a thousand facets to those broad feelings, and it was in their specificity that I could find the way to soothe his complaints, his anxieties.

Or so I hoped.

I gazed vaguely out the window as we passed over the great Nile River, and the imposing buildings and bright lights of the city of Cairo faded behind us. At last my eyes fell on the sight of three vast pyramids that towered over the landscape, surrounded by a smattering of smaller pyramids. Structures that the Egyptian coven of old had seen built, but existed at least a thousand years before Sulpicia and the Volturi were even thought of.

I felt my fingers curl in on themselves. It was a majestic sight—if I was successful, if I saved Beau and we were able to go back home together, I would have to bring him here someday.

Amidst the miles of barren sands, a broad patch of green became visible ahead, and the old taxi lurched to a stop just at the hotel entrance. I handed the driver a couple crisp bills—I had promised double the pay if he could get me here in half the time, and he had delivered. He accepted the American currency without question, and eagerly jumped out to retrieve the luggage I had brought along as a prop.

I started for the entrance, toting my bag along behind me, but the moment the taxi was gone I slipped around the side, disappearing amidst the lush greenery that surrounded the hotel on all sides.

The sky was dark overhead, dotted with stars, but though I could hear the mental voices of a few tourists still out wandering the expansive gardens, none noticed me through the heavy foliage in the darkness. I quickly cracked open my luggage case—I had bought it at the airport, packing it with a few ordinary essentials to avoid arousing suspicion if it was checked at airport security. However, it was the beige scarf I had bought at a shop at Egypt's Airmall along with a similarly colored dress that I was looking for.

I quickly drew the dress on over my clothes, then took the scarf and wrapped it around my head in the traditional hijab style. As a disguise it wouldn't pass any close inspection, but I wanted something that would allow me to travel during the day while blending in with the landscape and hiding the diamond-like shimmering of my skin in the sun, in case I didn't reach my destination before morning. The last thing I wanted was to get stranded somewhere until nightfall.

Darting quickly between palm trees and other vividly green, tropical plants, I made my way around the building, moving too fast to be seen by human eyes. Which was just as well—I was the very definition of a suspicious individual. If I was lucky, anyone who might catch a glimpse of me would just assume me to be a moonlighting American tourist, paying off some back-alley tour guide to take me up the side of the pyramid in the middle of the night—if I wasn't lucky, they might think me a terrorist.

As I raced across the empty sands, the lights of the hotel fading behind me, and I found a few stones under which to conceal my bag before going on, I thought about that. Terrorist—perhaps I was not of the human variety, but as far as vampires went, that may be exactly what I was becoming. I was, after all, planning to threaten the clan who were our government, our rulers, possibly fight them if I had to. I was a traitor, plotting revolution.

The thought made my stomach clench, my head spin. I had seen into the Volturi's thoughts, knew what they were beyond the image they liked to project—but even so, they were our rulers, our authority. I'd always considered myself a good citizen of sorts, at least in the vampire way, not a rebel.

However, I now shook my head. It was too late to be thinking about that. Saving Beau—that was what was important.

Drawing my scarf up over my nose and mouth to conceal as much skin as possible, I took off silently, sending up flecks of dust and sand in my wake.

Miles upon miles of sand dunes flashed by beneath my feet.

I was familiar with many of the great deserts of my country, everywhere from the Mojave desert with its sea of stubby Joshua trees, to the colder Great Basin Desert with its wall of mountains and ancient forests.

However, they were nothing to the unimaginable vastness of the Sahara. It extended nearly from one coast of Africa to other, with massive tracts of land so uninhabitable that nothing but the very hardiest of creatures could live there. For a human with ordinary senses, it might have felt entirely void of life.

I took only the vaguest note of the dietary options afforded by the local wildlife as I ran—nothing inspiring, the biggest mammals seemed to be Egyptian wild dogs and what I thought must be some sort of gazelle—focusing my sense of smell mainly on any hint of my kind.

Carine's thoughts on the location of these friends had not been precise enough to lead me directly to them. I knew the last time Carine had visited they resided within the borders of Egypt, in a south-westerly direction from Cairo. Amun considered the nomad way of life beneath him, and with how proud he had been of the home he and his coven had built, I could only hope he wouldn't have abandoned it. I would know soon enough—the most densely populated areas that would likely afford the best hunting would be along the Nile River, and if I were to catch the trail of one of the coven, it would surely be there.

I skirted the edge of the White Desert, with its chalky white stones rising in uneven shapes toward the sky. I could taste more wildlife here, but as our family kept away from national parks and particularly threatened species as a rule, I wouldn't be doing any hunting. I also tasted the scent of a few tourists, braving the chilly air of the Sahara's wild temperature swings to camp out amidst the geological wonders, and though I was not close enough to hear their thoughts, I circled out further to be safe.

It wasn't until I was passing by the edge of a small town and tourist hotspot, with its unique wells which supported a series of tropical trees, that I finally tasted the scent I was looking for—two scents.

A mated pair, if I wasn't mistaken. It was a bit of an older trail, but if they were the ones I was looking for, it still ought to lead back to their permanent residence. The rare rains of the Saharan summer would work in my favor.

Once again I took off, as swiftly and silently as a desert fox.

"Someone's coming."

The night was near giving way to dawn when my extra hearing picked up the voice, heard through the minds of at least two listeners. I had kept my extra hearing on hyper alert for hours to pick up every voice I could for miles, and this one came just at the very edge of my senses.

They were sheltered deep in an underground complex, and I caught glimpses of a modern room, couches decorated with elaborate mosaic patterns and a mahogany coffee table with a glass surface. Two females and a male.

I could not sense the thoughts of the leader Amun or his mate Kebi, but I knew immediately this was the coven I was looking for. One of the females reclining on one of the couches had perked up slightly at my approach—knowing exactly where I was in relation to them without any conscious effort.

I adjusted my direction, speeding across the sands like a silent bullet, kicking up sand and weathered bits of strangely translucent stone-like glass as I went. That I had been able to locate them within a single night was a miracle, but I didn't have a second to spare to marvel at my good fortune.

However, as I passed a jagged rock jutting toward the sky, I forced myself to slow. I couldn't afford to give the impression of being a hostile. I came to a stop on the edge of a small overhang, overlooking a maze of twisted dark rocks.

I proceeded warily—though I knew precisely where the entrance was from bits and pieces of information gleaned from the minds below, instead I followed the looping trail of the most recent of the scents, letting it guide my way. It wouldn't do to appear too informed.

All the while, I listened to the voices below.

"She's not someone that we've met before," the first voice said. "But she knows Carine. Carine's essence is strong on her."

"We should go see what she wants," said a second voice. This one was cheerful and vibrant, eager for any interruption to the daily monotony. "She'll find us soon anyway. We shouldn't be rude."

"You know what Amun would say," cautioned a third. "We shouldn't take risks. Maybe I should go."

This was answered with a laugh and affectionate kiss on the cheek. "Since when do we listen to Amun?" said the cheerful one. "Besides, you going up there alone? Sometimes, Tiam, I really think that between the two of us, you're the real thrill-seeker."

I paused beside a large dome-shaped rock. As the two approached, the cheerful girl taking the lead and her wary mate following not far behind, I caught flashes of the smooth stone of underground hallways lined with torches and decorations of ivory and gold.

I felt the sand tremble slightly beneath my feet, and as the quiet sound of their tamping feet reached my ears, I turned just in time to see the dome-shaped rock shift aside, sending bits of sand cascading down into the black hole that suddenly appeared in the ground. I would have assumed a pair of pale hands had moved the stone from below—if I hadn't known better.

A head of black hair woven in a series of elaborate braids appeared briefly over the rim, a moment before she nimbly leaped high in the air, landing lightly on a tall hump of stone not far from where I stood.

"Hello there," she said, giving me a warm smile and half wave. "We heard company coming. We've had dinner already, but if you want to come in for a bit and chat, visitors are always welcome."

The girl's skin had a distinctly olive hue beneath the immortal pallor, and gold jewelry jangled from her neck and wrists. She moved with the kind of ease and carelessness that came of an unshakeable innate confidence. Every now and again, she reached up to toy with one of the many gold beads woven into her braided hair, only to toss them back over her shoulder, where they rested halfway down her back.

A moment later her mate appeared, the male Tiam. His hair was also dark, but cut short and combed perfectly straight in a more no-nonsense style. He wore no jewelry, save a thin gold necklace around his neck, half obscured by the collar of a light vest. He stopped to stand beside the stone on which the girl stood, half in front of her, like a guard. Their eyes both glowed a light crimson in the early morning darkness.

"What is your business here?" Tiam asked, his voice at once cautious and authoritative.

Before I could reply, the girl laughed. "Oh come on, Ti." She glanced back at me. "Sorry about him. He just worries too much."

She leaped down from the rock, and casually strolled past him, in spite of the disapproving tension in his rigid shoulders, and stopped in front of me. Though below I had caught glimpses of a great underground temple, with stone pillars and tapestries not unlike something out of the throne room of one of the ancient pharaohs, her clothes looked more suited to the first room. A fashionable scarf with elaborately woven patterns loosely hung about her neck, and she wore a dark V-neck with sleeves that cut off just past the elbow.

"What's your name?" she asked. "Mine's Brena. This is my mate, Tiam. He's not as stodgy as he likes to pretend. Like I said, we love visitors, but we don't get too many around here."

I listened to her speak, but even more I focused on the underlying thoughts behind them. That they liked visitors was not strictly true—Brena liked company, but Amun purposely discouraged other vampires and covens from coming anywhere near his territory, or even telling anyone precisely where they could found. The careless comment that they didn't get many visitors was certainly the case, but she meant it mainly as an invitation for me to tell my story of how I came to be here. They already knew I was connected to Carine somehow, but they would wait to see if I said as much.

The power of the one I hadn't met yet was truly astounding. So far her use of it had been passive, just automatic habit, and I didn't yet have any real insight into how it worked. But I wasn't used to anyone but Archie having such foreknowledge.

I pulled down the scarf, which I still had pulled up over my nose and mouth, then drew it back from my head, letting it settle around my shoulders. I glanced toward the horizon, where the purple sky was beginning to show hints of red and gold—it seemed strange that Amun and his mate were not yet returned, from what I understood he did not normally take such risks. But, perhaps it was a stroke of good fortune—now I may get the chance to make my case to the others alone, and from what I sensed from their minds so far, they seemed far more agreeable.

"Edythe," I answered, turning my eyes back to Brena. "Edythe Cullen."

Brena smiled wide, and whatever small reservations she might have had about me seemed to evaporate at my honesty. "Cullen. Figured as much. One of Carine's coven. You have the same eyes."

She went on, "Come on, you've got to meet our sister. And our coven leader should be back soon, he and his mate are just out hunting. He can be a grouch, but don't worry about him."

However, as she started to turn, she shot an uncertain glance at the horizon. For the first time, her thoughts too turned to the question of why Amun and Kebi would have been gone so long. In the past, Amun had had his mate bring back their kills so that he and the rest of the coven did not have to go out, but when Brena had been brought into the coven, she had put a stop to that. Ordinarily now when they went out he was pushing them all to return as soon as possible, ever worried of attracting the Volturi's attention, but this night he had opted to remain out even as the others returned, on the excuse he and Kebi had not found good targets yet. It was—unusual.

Brena shrugged to herself. If they did not come back before daybreak, her coven mate would know exactly where they were if they needed to be tracked down. Without hesitation, she turned and leaped lightly inside the hole.

I waited a moment to see if Tiam would follow, but he gestured to me. Though the sweep of his arm was polite, mostly he didn't like the idea of the both of them having their backs to a stranger. At least if he came last, he would see it if I tried anything.

Rather than let myself fall all they way to the bottom as Brena had done, I opted to take the metal rungs, which had been embedded at intervals into the rock. I didn't want to make any sudden movements and give Tiam any reason for alarm, and I hoped that the seemingly vulnerable position of exposing my back in Brena's direction might inspire a little more trust.

Tiam slipped down just inside the lip of the hole after me, but as he reached out a hand to draw the stone back into place, out of the corner of my eye I saw the stone shift just before he touched it, grinding against the sand, though no sand fell on our heads. Tiam looked sharply at me to see if I had seen, then frowned down at Brena. I didn't look to see her reaction, though I knew she was giving him a slight shrug and an impish smile.

I had seen it on the periphery of their minds here and there—that Brena was talented in some way just as her sister was, to a degree that Amun didn't want anyone to know. However, it wasn't until Tiam's thoughts turned fully in that direction that I suddenly caught a glimpse of the full range of what it was. As my feet touched down on the ground at the bottom and I turned to face her again, I couldn't help but stare at her for a moment in awe—and, for the first time, just a little bit of fear.

The hole had only gone fifty feet or so below the desert surface, and now we stood in a small cavern with roughly dug walls, ringed by dozens of enormous boulders. Tiam started forward pointedly, determined not to grant another opportunity for me to guess at his mate's gift, then hesitated, glancing back at me.

"If you wouldn't mind closing your eyes for a moment," he said.

Brena rolled her eyes. "Oh come on, Ti. You know what Demi says when she talks about Carine. If we can't trust a member of her coven, then who can we trust?"

I didn't try to argue, only obediently closed my eyes. Not that it mattered—I could still see the room, first through Tiam's eyes, then Brena's, though now she was focused on giving her mate an exasperated look.

Tiam went first to one side of the room, shifting a boulder, then to another. It wasn't part of an elaborate code-lock or anything of that nature, he was merely trying to ensure that I couldn't use my hearing to determine which direction the real entrance was. I saw as he moved the real boulder—a slightly lop-sided one to the west, revealing a dark tunnel beyond. He went back and moved another boulder to the east, before he returned to me, and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"Okay," he said, "just follow my lead."

"This is ridiculous, Ti," Brena said incredulously, as Tiam walked me in a circle around the room, before taking me toward the tunnel entrance. "You are officially the worst host in the history of hosts. No wonder we never have guests." It's not like she wouldn't be able to find it again if she wanted to, she thought. You can't make one of our kind lose their sense of direction that easily. All this stuff Amun set up is for keeping out humans, not one of our kind. I can't believe you, Ti, you're just being plain rude.

Of course, Tiam already knew that, and he did feel a bit bad to be insulting me this way. However, he knew that if I didn't know the precise boulder, that might buy them a few extra seconds to either prepare to fight or run in case of an attack by a bigger coven. And he also had a notion that demonstrating for me how serious they were about secrecy might in and of itself preempt my trying anything funny.

I didn't resent Tiam's precautions. If a stranger whose intentions I didn't know came to my doorstep, I would do all I could to ensure Beau's safety as well, and that of my coven. He was wise to be wary—especially when they heard my request.

It wasn't until we had traveled some distance down the tunnel, which sloped deeper into the earth, and took several turns, that at last at Brena's insistence Tiam reluctantly told me I could open my eyes.

The walls of the tunnels here were rough and made to look natural, and I knew we were not taking the same gilded pathway they had taken before to get to the surface, but a longer, more circuitous way around. We branched off several more times, and though I had no trouble keeping track of which way we had gone, a human would likely have been completely lost by now.

Eventually we turned down a path that appeared blocked by rubble. However, Tiam stepped forward and, with one hand, pushed in one of the larger stones, where appeared an opening. The rest of the rubble around it remained locked firmly in place, whether glued together or just carefully constructed that way I didn't know, and as Brena ducked inside, Tiam and I followed.

We stepped out onto a small, raised platform overlooking an enormous room. Unlike the rough walls of the tunnel, this one was paved floor to ceiling in perfectly shaped blocks of burnished stone. Every section of wall was decorated, either with a painted engraving of a scene from Egyptian lore or in ancient Egyptian writings, and even a hanging tapestry of papyrus, vibrantly colored with scenes that I took to be, not of Egyptian gods, but of Amun and the others of his old coven, who had fashioned themselves as gods back in the days of the pyramids. Torches lined the walls on every side, while grand pillars rose in two lines forming a pathway back to a throne on a raised dais at the far end.

Seeing the place through the eyes of those who saw the room every day as they had passed through hardly did it justice. In spite of the urgency of my mission, I couldn't help but pause a moment to take it all in. It was just like a throne room of a great pharaoh out of ancient Egypt, with everything as crisp and new as it would have appeared back then.

"A drab place if there ever was one, I know," Brena said, coming up behind me. "Amun—that's our coven leader and creator, by the way—was in charge of the décor. But we managed to get a few rooms of our own."

Brena leaped down from the shelf of stone to the perfectly polished floor below, and I followed.

As we made our way around the edge of the room, Tiam bringing up the rear, Brena talked as we went.

"So, Edythe," she said conversationally. "Edythe of Carine's coven. You'll have to tell us more about what it's like being part of her coven. Tiam and I've never met her, but Demi's told us so much. Even ol' grumpy Amun doesn't have much to complan about her, which is saying something." She gave a hearty laugh.

"Carine is my creator," I answered. "I was the first of her coven, she saved me from the Spanish influenza. 1918."

I spoke softly, but easily. I hoped sharing details of my past without hesitation might make even Tiam more at ease around me.

"You're still a young one, then," Brena said with some surprise. "Carine stayed alone for a long time."

I nodded. "Yes. Carine knows that not all would wish for this life. She hesitated to force it upon any who would not fully understand what it was, even to end her own loneliness."

Brena considered that, humming thoughtfully to herself. "I'd like to meet Carine someday."

We came around the sidewall of the vast throne room, stopping in front of a door of stone. Tiam once again came forward to push it in. Beyond it was another corridor, with more doors and a series of torches along the walls. Many of the doors were cast in gold, with Egyptian symbols and decorations running along their surfaces, but toward the end of the corridor were several doors of heavy wood, carved and stained in obviously modern styles. Brena shot a grin at me over her shoulder.

"And," she said, "here we step out of dusty old ancient Egypt, into the twenty-first century. Refreshing, isn't it?"

Each of the modern doors was of a different style and different color of knob, as though a deliberate attempt to make them mismatched. While I found the infusion of the modern more an unwelcome interruption to the mystic aura of the place, I supposed Brena was entitled to her bit of rebellion. It was certainly more tame than my rebellious phase had been.

Brena went to one door with a black knob. She twisted it, and pushed her way on inside. She then gestured to me, and I followed.

I had already seen the room through the eyes of my hosts, and had been continuing to see it through the occupant still in the room. But now I picked out a few more details. A closed laptop sat on the coffee table, plugged into an outlet, and I noticed an enormous flatscreen television had been bolted to the front wall. A nearby bookcase was lined to capacity with DVDs, everything from old westerns to modern art films to new age thrillers. The only concession I could see that kept the room from looking completely like an ordinary living room taken straight out of the average house on the suburbs were the torches that lined the walls, in the same style as those outside, clearly more for ambiance than light.

My wandering eyes at last came to rest on the third member of this group of friends, this small coven within Amun's coven. She was reclining on her side on the longest couch, and she watched me with a kind of lazy curiosity. She sat up, though slowly, not in any particular hurry.

"Hey Demi," Brena said brightly. "Here's the visitor you mentioned. Edythe, she said her name was. She's a member of Carine's coven."

Demi—though I already knew her full name was actually Demia—slid to her feet, still with the kind of easy, indolent grace of a well-fed jungle cat. "Nice to meet you, Edythe," she said in a lilting voice. "We like to have some company once in a while." She extended a hand to shake, in an oddly human gesture that made me start in surprise.

I had already stretched out my hand to return the handshake before I understood that she, knowing I was part of Carine's coven and Carine's close interactions among humans, was mostly doing it to humor me. And also because touch, while she didn't really need it, made her gift stronger. It helped her read deeper into my past—not quite the way that Sulpicia did, seeing into my mind and heart, but in a way that made me feel uncomfortable all the same.

I withdrew my hand as quickly as courtesy allowed.

"So," said Demi, settling back on her couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table. "What brings you here, Edythe? A social call? Or something else?" In spite of her idle demeanor, her eyes seemed to sharpen, with a keen intuition that went beyond that of either her sister or wary brother.

I hesitated briefly, but saw no reason to hold back. There was no easy way to work up to what I wanted, and I couldn't afford to waste anymore time, especially since I suspected that when Amun returned he would make this a much harder sell.

"I'm so sorry to suddenly show up here unannounced," I began. "But yes, I have come in need of aid—Carine said that one of your number is a great tracker. And...there is someone that I need to find."

"Hmm," Demia said lazily. "And who might that be?" Her posture remained relaxed, but I could feel an undercurrent of interest in her thoughts. While Amun's strict rules trying to keep them away from the eyes of other covens had never chafed at her quite the way it had for her free-spirited spirit, all of her training to use her gift always made her sometimes wish for a chance to exercise it more fully. And her sister's adventurous spirit had, to some degree, rubbed off on her over the decades.

"My mate," I answered, and this time I turned my appeal half toward Brena. Even though Demia was many centuries older than her sister, she had never taken a mate, and I hoped Brena would have a more personal understanding of my plight. "He's...been taken prisoner."

They all regarded me for a long moment.

Demia smoothed the edge of her sleeve. "Well, as you might have guessed, I'm the tracker Carine told you about," she said. "Something like that wouldn't be difficult." Her eyes rose to meet mine. "Only..."

"Only it sounds as though you need a band of fighters, not just a tracker," Tiam completed.

I hesitated. They were right of course, one vampire alone wasn't likely to succeed against the likes of Sulpicia. She wasn't someone to be caught off guard or outwitted through her own carelessness or neglect. But I wasn't sure yet if I ought to push my luck.

"I just want him back and safe," I said finally. "When we find them, I'll do everything I can to free him. I...don't know if I could ask anyone else to take that risk."

"Just how big of a coven are we talking about here?" Brena asked. She looked down at her hands and flexed her fingers experimentally.

"You're going to need help," Demia murmured thoughtfully. "Reckless bravery won't save your mate."

Even Tiam was regarding me with something other than suspicion now. He glanced at Brena, trying to calculate how many she could use her power to take down alone while he could still ensure her protection.

I stared back at them, amazed. They were so quick to step up to help a stranger—even putting themselves at risk. Part of that might have been the perpetual boredom of a life mostly spent underground, sheltered away from others of their kind by their overprotective coven leader, but they were also moved to sympathy at the thought of my separation from my mate. They were not vegetarians, but I could see they were the good ones when it came to our kind.

"Well?" Brena prompted. "How many? You've got to know you won't get your mate back by yourself." She paused, then added, "You know, I'm kind of surprised Carine isn't here. Will she be coming along to help?"

Carine's voice whispered at the back of my mind.

...the impact on our worlds, both human and vampire, would be catastrophic. It is better that we leave him...

These were a good, honest sort. Could they really be convinced to help defy our revered rulers? I had been certain that surely Amun, whose own coven had been conquered and annihilated by Sulpicia's, would have indoctrinated his people against them. But the more I heard of their thoughts, the more they seemed to put little stock in their leader's opinions.

I gazed back at them, hesitating, trying to figure out the best next approach.

Demia was now staring fixedly at me—trying to get a lock on the mate of mine she had never met. The one who I would have spent the most time with, whose essence would be strongest on me. However, for the first time a sliver of suspicion crept into her thoughts. She felt others I was close to, but none who had come close enough to have been a lover.

I couldn't help but marvel as I watched in her mind as she worked her gift. She could track anyone, anywhere, and not only those she had met, but anyone I had met. Every mind had a particular taste or scent that lingered on the air or on the skin, and couldn't be hidden or washed away. To call her the greatest tracker in the world was not an exaggeration.

Whatever my fears, I knew I had to speak, before Demia concluded my story was in some way false. I said quickly, "You won't be able to follow my mate directly. He has a power—a power to make him untrackable. His mind is shielded from many powers. The only way to find him will be to track his captors."

Demia regarded me for a moment. At last she said, "How close have you come to these captors? Even I can't track someone if they've had no contact with anyone in front of me."

I nodded. "That—won't be a problem. I have met them. And—I expect you have as well."

They glanced at one another, each trying to guess what I might mean.

"Met them?" Brena said in confusion. "How can you know if we've met them or not? Who are they?"

I knew there was no concealing it. Still, I held back, just a second longer. "I only need someone to lead me to them," I reiterated. "I won't ask anyone to fight. I just—need my mate back safely."

They all sensed my tension. The truth I had been holding back saying. They gazed at me with uncertainty now, suspicion, and even though I knew I couldn't afford to tell them, I didn't have a choice.

"Who?" Tiam repeated at last, with a hint of force.

I took a brief breath. "Sulpicia of the Volturi."

Silence. No sound but the hum of electric currents through the walls to the modern appliances, beneath the soft crackle of the flickering torches. Just four still, frozen hearts—and a sea of abruptly blazing thoughts.

It was Tiam who moved first. He was suddenly standing between me and the partially open door, his back bent, nostrils flared. Demia too was on her feet again. Brena didn't move, only glanced at the others uncertainly, but she too reluctantly raised her hands.

"No," Tiam snarled. He had raised his arms, blocking my escape, and coiled his legs as though to spring. Demia eyed me with regret.

"Wait," Brena said, glancing at me. "We haven't heard the whole story."

"I think we've heard all we need to," Tiam said, lips curled back from his teeth.

Demia sighed deeply. "You know as well as we do, Brena." She looked at me again, almost apologetically. "You may be in the right," she told me. "We know better than anyone that the Volturi is not always kind, and we all respect and admire Carine greatly. However—I hope you understand. Those who know of treachery and fail to act, to the Lady Sulpicia, they are just as guilty. I'm afraid we can't allow you to leave."

Demia's thoughts flashed back to over half a century ago. When Sulpicia had scoured the world for anyone who had supported the rebellion that had killed her little thief. How the soldiers had come hunting for Amun, and it was only Demia's tracking that had allowed them keep out of Sulpicia's path until her wrath had died down. How they had returned to Egypt to find many of Amun's acquaintances who had hoped for the rebellion's success annihilated, the empty desert plains covered in scorch marks where their bodies had burned.

Brena too thought of the smell of charred immortals on the wind, the terror of their brief life as fugitives as Sulpicia's forces pursued them. Her eyes went briefly to her mate, who she could not imagine living without—then at last returned to me, only this time with pity.

They had me surrounded—Demia in front of me, Tiam behind, and Brena to my side. Brena's fingers danced in the air, ready at a moment's notice to summon her tremendous power, if needed.

I should have seen this coming. Perhaps a part of me had—that there had never been a means to convince them, no matter how clever or persuasive I might be. Now I saw in a blinding flash the only possible path to get what I needed—my only option from the beginning.

They were all fast. But having me outnumbered, they thought they already had me beaten—and I was faster.

I spun on Brena. Before any of them could react, my forearm connected with her collarbone, and I slammed her back into the stone wall so hard a crack shot from the point of impact like a lightning bolt. The coffee table turned over with a heavy crash, sending shards of glass everywhere, and I pressed against her neck, pinning one of her arms against the wall behind her and seizing the other with my free hand.

"Don't move," I ordered in a low, dangerous voice. We were standing directly beside one of the walls decorative torches, and I pressed my fingers against the side of her jaw, forcing her head back to an odd angle toward it. It would only take a second to wrench her head from her shoulders and set it to blaze in the flames.

Brena froze, as did Demia and Tiam behind us. For a second no one moved—then Brena sagged slightly in my grip, eyes sliding closed.

I felt as her mind shifted to the flames, and I realized dimly the torches were not so much a design choice as a defensive measure. A ready weapon in case of such an attack.

I shoved her again, hard, breaking her concentration and forcing her head down until the flames licked her pale olive skin. Her power was great—but it wouldn't make a difference. Not against someone who saw it coming.

"You try to use that trick of yours," I whispered, "and I will kill you where you stand. Then I will take your mate."

Brena's eyes opened, and she stared at the flames centimeters from her face.

"Yes," I said. "I know all about your gift. It's powerful, unlike anything I've ever seen—but you can't make it work fast enough to save you."

"How—" Brena began. That I knew of Demi's power was no surprise, Carine and Sulpicia both knew of it. But Brena had only been created within the last two hundred years, with little to no contact with anyone.

The time to play my hand had come. "I have a gift of my own," I said. "I see your thoughts, I know what you know. So as you might guess—none of you will be catching me by surprise."

Brena struggled uselessly, trying to pull her head away from the flame. "Are...you really part of Carine's coven?" she asked through gritted teeth.

I shoved her against the wall again, then let go of her arm for just an instant to snatch the torch from its holding. As I brought my arm around to seize her in a headlock, I said, "Don't think about it, Tiam."

Tiam had not moved from where he stood, but he had tensed, looking for an opportunity to strike when my guard was down.

I now turned to face them, Brena still in my grip. Both her arms were now free, but I had her head and the torch, and it did her no good.

"This is what we're going to do," I said calmly. "You're going to lead me to Sulpicia, Demia. If I fail and Sulpicia sees my thoughts, she'll understand you didn't have a choice. I will bring your sister to make sure you do as I say. Tiam, you will remain here. If you all cooperate, nothing will happen to any of you."

Demia stared at me for a long moment, trying to think if there was a way out of this. She knew I could be bluffing—but if my mate was really on the line, she doubted it. Sulpicia might come after them, but if she didn't agree, I would kill Brena, and might even kill Tiam before I was through.

Demia didn't speak, but I felt the moment she gave in. She started to turn toward the back, where I knew a hidden passageway behind the DVD case would take us back to the surface some distance away—and that was when she felt them.

Two familiar presences approached one of the hidden entrances. She had been so focused on what was going on here she hadn't noticed them before—Amun and Kebi. However, she froze for a moment—because they weren't alone.

She tried to hide it, the knowledge of just exactly who the others were. But it was already too late.

I had started to drag Brena forward, toward the hidden exit, but now I stopped. "Wait," I said, holding Brena where she was. Demia paused.

For several seconds I considered, weighing my options. This might be the bigger opportunity. Trying to reach Sulpicia with two vampires who would be looking for every chance to foil me in tow was hardly a guarantee I would reach my target, and trying to find a way to outwit Sulpicia on my own had always been a losing battle. This might be just exactly what I needed.

"Change of plans," I said abruptly. I let my arm fall from around Brena's neck, and shoved her forward, back in Tiam's direction.

She took several steps forward, then spun on me. Her eyes flashed with fury, her teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. For a moment, every torch blazed to the ceiling like flamethrowers, leaving scorch marks as black as pitch, and the ground trembled beneath our feet.

Hers was a great power indeed. The majority of gifts were those of the mind, or at most, they allowed sight of some place unseen, such as Archie's. But Brena could manipulate the elements, like a sorcerer from human legends. It was no wonder Amun didn't want anyone to know she existed—Sulpicia would be most interested to meet her.

I calmly held the torch at arm's length, as the flames sparked and hissed, rising in a mini inferno.

"How dare—" Brena began. "I should—"

"Strike me down where I stand?" I completed. I shrugged. "You can try. But I think I'm about to be the least of your worries."

Brena was not someone who angered easily. She and Demia both were almost always good-natured, and Brena especially preferred to go through her immortal life enjoying the good things than getting angry. But being used as a hostage to force her coven to put themselves in the Volturi's crosshairs was not something she could easily forgive.

Even so, as the seconds passed, the tension in her frame faded. The flames of the torches died back down, and I replaced the torch in its holding. I folded my arms, leaning back against the wall.

"We wouldn't have killed you, you know," Brena said at last, glaring at me. "We would have just made you stay here. Joined our coven."

"Yes," I said evenly, "I know."

"Would you have killed me?" she asked. "Taken Tiam next?"

I paused. "I don't know," I said honestly.

Tiam had quickly stepped forward, placing himself between Brena and me, tense as though ready for another attack.

By contrast, Demia's arms had fallen to rest at her sides. She knew I wouldn't be trying anything more. Even so, she eyed me with something like distaste.

Brena glanced at her sister. "What is it, Demi? What's happening?"

Demia sighed a little. "Amun is almost back. And... it feels as though he's brought along some guests. Guests the Volturi wouldn't care for."

Brena tilted her head a fraction in confusion, but Tiam sucked in a sharp gasp. "You don't mean—but why would Amun—"

"Sulpicia is weak right now," I answered. "A rebellion has threatened her rule. And—it would seem that your coven leader and the Romanians are eager to take advantage of it."

Brena's eyes widened. Tiam looked ill.

Images blossomed in their minds, of the stories they had heard—the brutality, the excess. While the Egyptians of old might have indulged in mass human sacrifice as they lived as gods, the Romanians had lived for war almost as much as blood. They spread fear like wildfire as they moved from territory to territory, conquering and feasting as they pleased, and enjoyed every moment of it.

Brena shook her head. "There must be some mistake. Maybe the Romanians got the jump on them and took them hostage."

"No," I said simply. "They haven't."

Demia gazed at me for a long moment. "You know what I'm thinking, mind-reader," she said at last.

I let me eyes slide closed, and I nodded once. "Yes."

"You have no idea what the Romanians are," she said in a low voice, her cool eyes never moving from my face. "You can't make deals with them. They're like wild jackals—lions. They're ravenous beasts that will devour anything they see fit. If you try to find help with them, they will tear you and your mate apart."

As though to punctuate her words, images from the minds of Amun's two guests drifted down to me. Memories of a past long gone, and fantasies of possible futures. All filled with unimaginable carnage.

I felt a deep shiver run down my spine.

"You may be right," I murmured. My eyes opened, and they bore back into hers. I pushed the images aside, and thought of only one—Beau, bent before Sulpicia, helpless in her grasp.

"I suppose it's a good thing then," I said softly. "I've always considered myself a lion, too."