“Livia?”

She blinked, then glanced down to see Bram propped up on his elbow, frowning with concern. There was no fire. The villa had been replaced by the warehouse. She wore no tunic, but stood naked beside the couch, her hands upraised as though on the verge of casting a spell.

“Livia?” Bram reached for her.

Anger and tension continued to blaze through her. She stepped out of his reach, mistrustful of herself. Riled as she was, she might accidentally hit him with a killing curse. “He came to me. The Devil.”

Bram was immediately out of bed, sword in hand, glaring into the darkness.

“He wasn’t here,” Livia said.

“You said he came to you.”

“We were in my villa. In Londinium.”

Lowering his sword, Bram said, “A dream. Nothing real.”

She shook her head. “Dreams are real. They exist in the boundary realm of the Ambitus. Through a dream, I gave Leo’s wife her magic. Upon waking, the power was truly hers. The Dark One visited me, Bram. He . . . tempted me.”

Bram sheathed his sword, yet kept it close. “Tempted you, how?”

“Power without limitation. The world’s magic would belong to me. Anything I desired could be mine.” Anger blistered her—she hated the Dark One for tempting her, his threats, and reminding her of her own fallibility.

“You wanted that once,” he said, “but no longer.”

“I was enticed.” The confession burned, though she would not look away from Bram’s incisive gaze. “It seems I am not as reformed as I’d believed.”

“Who of us is wholly good or wholly sinful?” He stared out as ashen dawn light sifted into the warehouse, transforming darkness into shades of gray. “Greed, rage—I feel them, still. And damn anyone who stands in my way.”

In the smoke-colored light, he was hard angles and brutal purpose, the same man with whom she’d created fathomless pleasure, and yet starkly different.

“Yet you won’t yield to that need,” she said, and she did not miss the caution in her words.

“Every moment’s a fight. For you, it’s the same.” He turned his gaze to hers. “The struggle won’t stop. So it will ever be. That bastard Devil offers you everything your wicked heart desires. Small surprise you’re tempted. It’s the way of villains like us.” He stepped close and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “We’ll keep each other on the path of virtue—dull as that might be. Us on our very best behavior is still more exciting than a pair of straying saints.”

“He made threats, as well.” Her hands curled, as if she clutched the Dark One’s throat in her hands.

Bram tensed. “Threatened you?”

“Both of us.” Her heart pounded as she thought of all the torments Bram would suffer after death. “They weren’t baseless. He’s still in possession of your soul.” They each knew what this meant, the eternal agony that awaited Bram.

He was silent for a long while. Finally, he said, “To hell with him.” His eyes were blue diamonds. “He must be pissing himself with fear if he’s cajoling and threatening you. It’s an old tactical maneuver. Undermine the enemy. Let them do the work for you. The battle is won before it’s ever fought. If we weren’t dangerous, he wouldn’t bother. But he is. Meaning, he’s frightened.”

“He tried to frighten me, too.”

“It didn’t work. Look at you.” His gaze moved over her, admiring. “Naked as the morning but ready to fight.”

“He threatened you,” she said.

Bram stared at her for a moment, then lowered his head and put his lips to hers with a kiss so sweet her heart shattered.

He broke away, frowning, his head tilted as if to catch a faint sound. She heard it, too, a scrabbling—the sound of claws belonging to large animals. And the sound was growing closer.

Without speaking, she and Bram threw on their clothing. As they did so, the scratching reverberated up the walls. Something climbed up the sides of the warehouse. The ceiling shook from the weight of heavy bodies, and the scratching of claws.

“He found us,” Livia said, grim. “Through my dream, the Dark One found us.”

Bram already held his sword. He grabbed her hand, and together they ran for the small side door.

The warehouse shuddered. With a crash and shower of splintered wood, the ceiling broke apart. Massive black-furred bodies fell from above, landing in front of Bram and Livia.

Rats. Three gigantic rats, each the size of ponies. Their eyes glowed yellow, and they hissed at Livia and Bram, revealing fangs and tongues of flame. Both their claws and metallic tails gouged trenches in the stone floor.

The creatures blocked the only way out.

As Bram raised his sword, Livia reached for her magic—an Etruscan fire spell—yet when she grasped at the power, it guttered and died like a candle caught in a gust. She strained for her power, again and again, trying different spells. Every time, her magic dwindled to nothing. She was still too weakened from her journey back from the dead.

Leaving her without any means to fight these Hell-sent beasts.

The monsters attacked.

Bram lunged the same time that one of the giant rats leapt forward. He aimed for the creature’s heart, but it dodged his strike, and his sword plunged into the creature’s shoulder. It squealed in rage and pain. He pulled out his blade and jumped aside, narrowly missing its whipping tail.

A second rat attacked, fangs first. He vaulted backward before it could tear a chunk out of his leg.

Glancing over at Livia, he saw her backing slowly away from the third beast, as the rat growled in its advance. Though she held her hands up, no glow of magic encircled them. She’d always been quick to summon her power.

“Use your magic,” he shouted.

“I cannot,” she yelled back. “I am still not strong enough.”

“Damn it,” he growled. She had no way of defending herself. Not even a mortal weapon.

He sprinted toward Livia, determined to protect her. But the two other monstrous rats blocked him. Both creatures attacked, keeping him from coming to her aid. He leapt and dodged, striking the beasts wherever he could. The damned things took far more damage than any normal animal might, their black fur glistening with patches of blood drawn by his blade.

One dragged a claw across his thigh, and pain followed in a burning line. He hardly noticed. He had to kill these things and get to Livia, safeguard her.

Peach silk flashed in the corner of his eye.

“Don’t run!” he shouted. Running meant turning one’s back, inviting attack. But she didn’t listen. She ran straight toward the couch.

As he held back two rats, he saw her tearing off the blanket. She put the couch between herself and the creature stalking her, twisting the blanket into a rope as she did so. The beast clambered up onto the couch, its lips curled in a snarl, the fur on its back raised up in spikes.

It would tear her apart.

To his shock, she didn’t run. Instead, she allowed the rat to attack, and shoved the twisted blanket into its mouth. The beast choked on the fabric. Its flaming tongue set the blanket alight. Fire spread quickly along the clot. The creature couldn’t drop the blanket in time before flames jumped onto its fur. In seconds the monster was engulfed. It careened around the interior of the warehouse, shrieking, then collapsed in a heap of charred fur.

As one of the rats made another feint at Bram, he slammed his foot down on its muzzle, pinning its head to the floor. He stabbed the beast directly behind its left shoulder, skewering its heart. It shuddered then stilled, blood spreading across the ground.

The second rat lunged, and Bram kicked it so the thing flew back. It collided with the desk. He darted forward and attacked, thrusting his blade between the creature’s ribs. He pushed hard, until the sword’s tip hit the wood of the desk. The beast squealed, thrashing and scraping at the air with its claws. He wouldn’t relent. Not until it went motionless, and the glow of its eyes dimmed, bereft of life.