The corpse’s hand went limp, severing the link between us. The contact break was too quick, and the room spun around me, bringing a wave of disorienting nausea. I snatched my hand from the corpse’s grip and tried to remember how to breathe. I thought my lungs knew what to do, but apparently they didn’t. I was gasping, but I wasn’t getting any air. A dim corner of my mind calmly informed me that I was about to pass out, like I didn’t already know that.

Mychael’s arm went around my waist, lifted me off my feet, and carried me out into the hall. There was air in the hall, blessed air, cool and fresh, and best of all it didn’t smell like dead elf general. Mychael set me on my feet and I bent over, hands on my knees, gulping air in great heaping lungfuls.

Mychael kept his arm around my waist and put his other hand on my back, and I could feel the pull of his healer’s magic as he helped my lungs pull in air and blow it out. My head started to clear.

“She’ll be fine,” I dimly heard him tell the Guardians posted on either side of the door.

No doubt they thought that I was one of those women who couldn’t handle being in the same room with a dead body. I could deal with dead bodies just fine; it was the ones that grabbed me that I had a problem with.

A shudder ran through me, ending with a tingling on the back of my neck that felt like the featherlight touch of a certain goblin psycho.

“Well, that shot my . . . concentration . . . straight to hell,” I managed and went back to gulping air.

Mychael didn’t say, “I told you so,” but he didn’t have to and he knew it. A lot of people would have called what I’d done stupid and/or suicidal. I called it the risks of doing my job. A lot of people would call my job stupid and/or suicidal, too.

“You’re damned lucky he didn’t do more than taunt,” Mychael said.

I froze. “You heard him?” I said in mindspeak. There were a lot of things those two Guardians didn’t need to know.

“Yes,” Mychael responded. “The words were for you; the message was for me as well.”

The umi’atsu bond we had with Tam, or the other even more powerful link that only Mychael and I shared. One or both had let Mychael hear everything. Good. When a corpse grabbed your hand and a phantom goblin whispered sick nothings in your ear, it was good to have company.

“Ma’am?” came Vegard’s concerned voice from behind us.

“Fine . . . I’m fine.” I swallowed and stood up slowly. If I did it too fast, I’d be right back where I started from. I glanced up and down the hall. There was another pair of tense Guardians stationed by the stairs. Their keen eyes were focused on us, hands on sword hilts, and those hands and hilts were glowing with deadly spells at the ready. All they were waiting for was word from their paladin that there was something inside that containment room that needed killing.

What needed killing wasn’t in that room. I didn’t know where Sarad Nukpana was, and what I’d gotten from General Aratus hadn’t given me much of a clue.

Or who he was going after next.

Even with only four Guardians, the hall was way too crowded. To Mychael, they were his trusted men. To me, they would be witnesses to questions I needed to ask out loud, but didn’t want them to hear.

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” I asked him.

“My office.”

It was private, warded, and had a well-stocked liquor cabinet. I wanted all three.

“Perfect,” I told him. “I could use a—”

The bottom dropped out of the temperature, and bone-numbing cold flowed up through the stone floor. The long muscles of my legs convulsed with cold; the shock of it sent a spike of pain through my body.

I’d felt it before.

“Oh no,” I managed through chattering teeth.

Mychael knew what was here; he’d fought on enough battlefields, seen more than enough men die.

And knew that Death always sent Reapers to collect.

I’d never seen a Reaper, but I’d felt one before. I’d been attacked by one. In the pitch-dark tunnels under Mid, it had come for me and for once I’d been grateful for the dark. What I’d felt was horrifying enough without having to look at it, too. The Reaper had attacked me, but it had wanted to go through me to get to the souls the Saghred held prisoner, using me as a straw to slurp them up. The Reaper had come too close to getting what it came for, with my soul as a bonus. Reapers were indiscriminate diners. The dead, the dying, and those who shared their bodies or minds with more than one soul—we were all fair game to creatures who acted more like a pack of starving wolves than anything else. Prey was just food they hadn’t eaten yet.

I was most definitely prey.

“Vegard, get Raine out of here,” Mychael ordered. “In my office, behind the wards, and seal them.”

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t move. I felt the cold flowing down the hall on one of the floors below, flowing away from us. “It’s not after me.” I focused my will and found them. “Two Reapers, one floor below.”

“The mage’s ghost,” Mychael growled.

Damn. The exorcist was working to separate it from the body it had possessed. One body, two souls, both weakened. Would the Reapers be able to tell which one belonged? Would they care?

A scream from below said they didn’t.

Mychael shouted commands and the Guardians stationed at the stairs charged down them, Mychael and Nachtmagus Kalta right behind them.

Vegard’s hand locked around my arm.

I didn’t have time for this, and neither did the man downstairs. “Vegard, let me go.” I tried to be reasonable, but I was prepared to be violent.

“Not this time, ma’am.” He’d been there for my first run-in with a Reaper. He knew how close I’d come then to being taken.

Shouting joined the screaming, and I felt more cold spots blooming below.

“There’s more coming,” I said urgently. “They’re outnumbered down there.” I could have done any number of things to get Vegard to let me go, but I was counting on his loyalty to Mychael, not to Mychael’s orders. If Mychael tried to stop those Reapers from feeding, they’d turn on him like a pack of wolves. “I can help him. I can sense Reapers, so I can probably see them.”

And probably no one else could. Just like the specters. I didn’t need to say it; Vegard knew it.

“Dammit,” he snarled, releasing my arm. “Not three feet from my side. Not. Three. Feet.”

We got downstairs and at first glance there were only four Guardians in the hall. I didn’t have to look much closer to see what else was there.

I could see them. Hellfire and damnation, I could actually see the things.

“Raine, get out of here!” Mychael shouted.

“I can see them,” I said. “And there aren’t two of them.” An insubstantial form slipped through the stone wall not ten feet from Mychael as if the wall wasn’t there. “Now there’re five.”

Nachtmagus Vidor Kalta stood utterly still in the middle of the hall, as if listening to something no one else could hear. “With more on the way.”

The terrified screaming continued from inside the containment room. It ended abruptly.

“Clear!” Mychael’s hands were glowing incandescent white, and I felt a tightly focused, controlled surge of power as he put his hands on the door.

And the door—four-inch-thick wood, banded with heavy iron—simply vanished.

I felt something cold closing in behind me and spun to face it. “Make that six.”

A Reaper floated there, mere steps away, watching me. At least I assumed it was watching me; the thing didn’t have any eyes.

An up-close look at a Reaper was something I never wanted.

Vegard took up a guard position in front of me, his glowing sword waving slowly back and forth. “Where is it?” He obviously couldn’t see it.

“Right in front of us.” I didn’t move; I didn’t want to give the thing any ideas.