When Sloane woke, it was dark, cold and damp. Her shoes and sweater were gone. One arm was wrenched over her head, chained to a slimy stone wall. She was kneeling on more stone, water puddling here and there around her, gleaming in the greyish half-light. Almost dawn, maybe. The sea was close. Sloane could hear it, slamming away angrily at the rocks. A mile from shore, maybe less.

Her knees hurt and her free arm pulsed with the kind of pain that made focusing difficult, if not impossible. She couldn’t remember what had happened. Footfalls rang over stone, finally clearing some of the haze from her head.

“Are you thirsty, love? I’m thirsty.”

Before she could blink, Declan wrenched back her head, his fangs sinking deep into her throat. She gasped, then screamed as pain again sliced at her worn nerves. So much pain. She was dizzy and faint by the time he cast her back against the wall with a laugh.

“You taste awfully sweet, Isleen. But I won’t be killing you easy.” He laughed and drew a knife from his pocket as Sloane’s breath started to hitch, blood seeping between her fingers as she scrambled back against the crumbling stone wall. “No, sweets, I am going to hurt you. Do you know what my master did to your father’s whore?” he said conversationally. “Surely you’ve noticed her scars.” Declan grabbed a fistful of her hair, slamming her head into stone. Before she could catch her breath, he pressed her back against the wall, his weight easily countering her pathetic struggles. With a bright smile, he flipped the knife in the air. “He cut her. Over and over again. It was beautiful. So. Much. Blood.”

He stabbed the steel blade deep into her thigh, those vamp eyes bright as she screamed, her chains rattling in chorus against the stone. Declan yanked the blade down her leg, a millimeter at a time, his hungry gaze never leaving her face.

The dark beckoned again and she reached for it with both hands. But even in her dreams, the pain persisted. There was no relief from the nightmare. Mac. Where was Mac? Where was Aidan?

When she came to, Declan looked angry. It was lighter now. She couldn’t hear the sea and it was hot. Her captor was sweating and he almost looked scared as he undid her chains.

“I have to say, Heather was a lot more entertaining than you are.” His upper lip curled in disgust. “One cut and you pass out on me. How am I supposed to have any fun?”

He pulled something from his pocket. It looked like a stone, infused with an odd milky light. When the vampire tossed it in the corner, it was like he’d set off a smoke bomb. Just like at the beach, mist started to gather in one corner.

Magic, Sloane thought dully. He’s using some kind of magic.

He picked her up, obviously enjoying her cries as her broken arm flopped to the side and blood began to well again from the wound in her legs.

Grinning, those teeth a sharp promise above her, Declan licked his lips as he stepped into the mist. “Let’s get you home and have another bite, shall we?”

She passed out again.

When she came to, they were in a stone room again, one that looked vaguely familiar. Her cellar?

Declan raised his mouth from the wound in her leg as she struggled to sit up. Sloane was so cold and stiff, she barely registered his fangs leaving her flesh. Surely someone was above, waiting for word or looking for her. She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat was too dry to make a sound.

The vampire gave her a dispassionate look. “You’re dehydrated. Extreme blood loss will do that to a person.”

He wiped his mouth and got to his feet.

“I’m going to leave you here for them to find. It’s less than I would have hoped, but things are getting a bit tense right now. You won’t rot for long, never fear. Vampires have a great sense of smell,” he mused. “Which is almost a shame. I liked picturing Aidan finding your rotten corpse.”

With a careless shrug, he turned to go.

Shaking, Sloane struggled to sit up. She had made it to her hands and knees when Declan turned, that weird mist already starting to lick at his boots.

He laughed when he saw her. “Oh now you’re ready to play? Well too late, sweets, I’ve got to be going.” He lifted his leg, aiming a kick for her head as she stared up at him, knowing it was coming, but unable to move. “I really must be g—”

She grabbed his foot. Somehow her good hand came up to wrap around the damp leather and she found just enough strength to hold it. He swayed, still laughing. With the full weight of her battered, abused body, Sloane shoved as hard as she could. Declan’s laughter died as he flew backward into the wall.

That same back cellar wall Mac had warned her was so terribly unsteady.

As the rocks began to give way around him, the vampire screamed.

His arms windmilled and caught nothing but air. It was too late for even his otherworldly strength to save him. The wall slid clean away in a tumble of broken mortar, revealing the crimson rays of the most beautiful island sunset Sloane had ever seen. In its light, Declan’s skin bubbled and went dark, like a Polaroid cutout developing in reverse. One second the vampire was there, screaming and falling; the next second he was an outline of ash bursting apart into nothingness.

She didn’t even have time to smile before the roof collapsed, burying her in an avalanche of rubble.

Mac pulled her free less than ten minutes later. Aidan was still trapped by the sun.

“Two days,” he breathed over and over as he pulled her to him. “Two fucking days. I thought ye were dead.”

“He kept moving us somehow, there was this mist,” Sloane whispered, barely conscious. “Whenever he would step into it, we’d come out somewhere else.”

Mac nodded, brushing her hair back. “Aye, we finally figured it out. It’s how he got away from yer father on the beach, someone from Fae was helping him.” Vampires and fae were closely related after all, though Mac had no idea who there would help Declan. He’d damn well find out, but going to either Fae or the Otherworld right now would be ill-advised.

Lugh’s interrogation had been interrupted by Aidan screaming at Mac through the conch again.

The king of the Tuatha de Daanan hadn’t been happy about letting him go, but Lugh hadn’t tried to stand in his way. For now.

That would have to wait.

Declan was likely working with someone, Mac thought distractedly, one of Abhartach’s old cronies. That’s why he had never been able to sense the vampire properly on the isle. The mist of the Fae distorted all. It had to be someone terribly powerful, though, no mere—

He looked into Sloane’s eyes, his mind going blank, seeing what he’d feared for days. She was fading away. Leaving him.

The terror that filled him was so black and cold Mac’s vision blurred. He shook her once, hard. “Stay with me, love.”

“Trying,” she whispered, her eyes starting to flutter closed. “Just so tired.”

He put two fingers in his mouth, emitting a shrill whistle that blasted through the air like a high-pitched thunderclap.

It seemed to take an age, but less than a minute later, the white stallion appeared over the crest of the hill.

“He is called Finbar. Ye’ve nothing to fear from him,” Mac said, lifting her gently.

The great white stallion held still, his nostrils wide, feet planted, as she settled on his powerful withers. Sloane wrapped her fingers in his mane, or rather his mane wrapped itself around her fingers. Finbar’s will was his own, whether he agreed with his creator’s choices or not.

With an effortless jump, Mac landed lightly behind her, giving his strength to her back, his thighs bracing hers. He could still feel the pain that pulsed and flickered along every edge of her being, but it was fading away as exhaustion started to pull at her. Exhaustion . . . and something far darker and more permanent.

Mac heard his sister’s voice faintly in the distance and ice filled his guts. Responding to his master’s uncharacteristic fear, Finbar threw his head forward and began to run.

Faster than the wind they flew back down the hill, the sea growing nearer and nearer.

Sloane slumped further in his arms. Mac couldn’t look at her. He could only look at the water, willing it closer with every fiber of his being.

“Tha’s it, love,” he murmured. “Be easy, ye’re safe now. Just ride with me. Ride.”