Sid sank to his knees, hand clutching his throat. “It worked,” he said in utter disbelief. He took his hand away, looked down at the blood, and turned kind of pasty.

I was incredulous. “What do you mean, ‘it worked’?”

“I’ve never used that formula on anything that old. It worked on a six-hundred-year-old poltergeist last year, but I have to admit it was touch and go there for a minute.”

A strong hand rested on my shoulder, and I shivered. Mychael’s hand was warm and I didn’t realize how cold I was.

I turned my head to look up at him. “As always your timing is perfect.”

That wasn’t all I thought was perfect about Mychael Eiliesor, but I’d been trying to keep those thoughts to myself lately. As a red-blooded, breathing woman, believe me, it wasn’t easy. I could tell myself that Mychael was just your basic tall, hot, and handsome elf, but there was a lot more to him than met the eye.

The bordello’s hall was dimly lit, but I could see Mychael well enough, and what I couldn’t see, I knew all too well. Auburn hair, chiseled features, elven ears elegantly pointed and temptingly nibbleable. His eyes were that mix of blue and pale green found only in warm, tropical seas. Eyes that reflected a razor-sharp intelligence, watchful eyes that missed nothing.

He hadn’t missed what had almost happened to me.

“My timing could have been better.” I could hear the anger in his voice, aimed at himself, not at me. “You were alone.”

He stepped around me and knelt next to the unconscious man and pulled his hands behind his back, securing them with a pair of manacles. I heard the hum when the locks clicked. Magic-sapping manacles. If the man woke up and the specter along with him, neither one would be able to do any damage, at least not of the magical variety.

I took a shaky breath and blew it out. “Well, next time we won’t chase a specter into a cathouse while there’s an orgy going on. Did you know any of them?”

Mychael stood and chuckled softly. “Just all of them. A few visiting dignitaries, a minor elven royal, and more than a few Conclave officials.”

Sid whistled. “That must have been some party.”

Mychael grinned. “Let’s just say I got to see a different side of our government at work.”

I grimaced. “Glad I missed that; I got to see more than enough up here.”

“So it appears. Never let it be said that I don’t take a lady to interesting places.” Mychael glanced down at the manacled naked guy at our feet. “And speaking of having seen enough . . .” He turned and pounded once on the nearest door with his fist. “Blanket, please.” The words were polite; the force and the volume demanded a response.

Sounds of scrambling came from inside, and the door opened just far enough for a hairy-backed hand to push a blanket through. The door quickly closed, and at least three dead bolts were thrown. Mychael made good use of the blanket, and the naked, possessed guy was finally covered.

“One down, five to go,” I said. “I’m going to take this as a sign that our luck’s about to improve.”

“Raine, you were going to go to him.” Mychael’s voice was in my head, his words for me alone. It was a smart way to communicate, considering that where we were standing was about as public as you could get. And for a necromancer, Sid was a nice enough sort, but neither one of us wanted him or anyone else to know the details of what had almost happened.

“No chance.” I tried for a quip. “Neither one of them was my type.”

“Type doesn’t matter and you know it.”

“Mychael, I’m the only one who can track these things.”

“Next time you’ll track; we’ll retrieve.”

I wasn’t going to argue with him now. There’d be plenty of time for that later. First, I had to find the next escaped soul—before their ringleader found me.

Sarad Nukpana was an evil that I could almost smell in the air. I glanced at the man on the floor. I could see the faint, dark outline of the elven sorcerer trapped inside. And now the evil could touch me right back. The evil stalking me was breathing down the back of my neck. Not literally, but I could sense the gloating, the anticipation, the eagerness of Sarad Nukpana close to getting what he wanted.

Me.

Nearly two months ago, to keep Sarad Nukpana from sacrificing someone I loved like a brother to the Saghred, I had tricked him into picking up the stone with his bloody hand. In that moment, the Saghred considered him a sacrifice and took him, destroyed his body, and imprisoned his soul. As far as Nukpana was concerned, no body equaled my fault. The bastard would love to take mine.

It had been three weeks since Sarad Nukpana and his allies had escaped the Saghred, three weeks that I’d been hunting him—and he’d been haunting me.

I hadn’t even come close to finding him, not yet. The goblin was being smart; he had too much at stake to do anything other than execute his plan. Sarad Nukpana wanted the Saghred and all the kingdom-crushing power that came with it—that and vengeance against me and a number of people I cared about, Mychael included. Our best guess had him holed up in the goblin embassy where there were plenty of magically powerful and politically influential people to possess. Nukpana could take his pick. And even though Mychael was the top law officer on Mid, he couldn’t legally set foot in the goblin embassy. If he did, it’d be an act of war. Mychael wasn’t holding his breath that an engraved invitation was going to be delivered to his office in the citadel. And with the Saghred in the citadel behind heavily guarded and warded doors, Mychael wasn’t going to be inviting anyone from anywhere over for a visit.

We heard booted feet running up the stairs. Vegard didn’t even pause at the head of the stairs, but covered the distance to us with long strides. Vegard Rolfgar was a Guardian. He was also big, blond, and human; and as my personal bodyguard, he had his work cut out for him. Let’s just say guarding me was a challenge.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” he told me.

“Not your fault, Vegard.” I gave him a half grin. “How did you know you were going to get caught in a stampede of screaming, half-naked working girls?”

Mychael scowled. “You wouldn’t have been separated from him if you had waited rather than storming up here.”

“I wasn’t going to lose this one,” I said, a little more forcefully than I’d intended.

“Instead you’d rather risk losing yourself,” said his voice in my head.

Mychael knew what had almost happened as if it had been happening to him. And in a way, it had. Mychael and I were two-thirds of an umi’atsu bond; an intimate, magical bond that usually linked only two mages, binding them first through their magic, then through hearing, sight, and finally their minds and souls. After that, an umi’atsu bond could only be broken by death. Body and soul become one; magically mated, if you will. The level of magical talent I was born with came nowhere near mage level. Ever since the Saghred had latched onto me like a psychic leech, my so-so powers had gotten one hell of a boost, and no one knew what my limits were. And, in a first as far as umi’atsu bonds were concerned, there was a third mage bonded with us—Tamnais Nathrach, a goblin aristocrat, nightclub owner, and quasi- rehabilitated dark mage. Tam was also a good friend of mine. Some considered an umi’atsu bond much like a marriage, which made my intimate connection to two gorgeous and powerful men more awkward than I wanted to think about.

Vegard handed me a dark cloak. “You dropped this downstairs, ma’am.”

I took it and draped it over my arm. “Thank you, Vegard.” I’d been cloaked when I came in here, and no doubt Mychael wanted me to wear it when I left. Thanks to the Saghred, I was in enough trouble with a lot of influential people on this island; I didn’t need to add to it by being seen leaving the city’s most lavish and notorious bordello.