Suddenly, from the shadows where Ord and the blackskinned man had vanished, the tall, lanky teenager appeared. He seemed dazed as he cried, "My face! He was trying to take my face!"

Another figure burst from the darkness, a young man who might have been Ord's twin. This boy's face was contorted in a mask of rage, and he launched himself at the wobbly-kneed teenager with undisguised hatred. The first Ord turned and drew his sword at the sight of the advancing doppleganger.

The entire party's attention was drawn to Ord and his duplicate. Varina was the first to respond. Without hesitation she released a set of blades hidden on her right arm, then she drew her hand back and propelled the center spike toward the back of the teenager who had first emerged from the smoky mist. The sharp blade burst through the soft leathers of his back, piercing his heart from behind. An inhuman scream filled the alley as the true Ord snatched his sword away from the duplicate, who had fallen to his knees in agony. Ord cleaved the creature's head in two, his sword sinking down to the monster's collarbones. Blood as dark as ink sprayed from the creature as it fell in a heap, twitching and convulsing.

Ord backed away, trembling. "How did you know?"

"His face," Varina said. "It was fresh and new. Your old scars had not appeared."

Cardoc glanced down at the corpse, which had not stopped moving. The two sections of its head were merging, healing. "This one is still alive. We may get some answers from it."

"By the gods," Ord muttered, "what does it take to kill these things so they stay dead?"

The mage felt a sudden chill in the air, the same sensation he had experienced an instant before the red-haired man's fires had erupted seconds earlier. He gestured quickly, casting a sphere of protection around the adventurers.

The red-haired man stood at the end of the alley, a separate spear of fire bursting from each of his hands and mouth. Each of the three ragged tongues of flame struck the walls and were deflected perfectly to incinerate the bodies of the monsters downed by the Harpers. The flames never approached the obsidian sphere hiding the adventurers.

Seconds later, it was over. The corpses were nothing but ash that was quickly dispersed by the heavy winds that followed the arcane fires. At the end of the alley, the deep shadows once again congealed around the spot where the red-haired man and dark-haired woman had stood. They were nowhere to be seen.

Cardoc released the sphere of protection and surveyed the area for further threats. Burke finally spoke. "Where in the fiery hells of Cyric were you?"

"Ord closed the door in my face. I cannot walk though walls. I had to go around the long way. Those shadows" the mage shuddered-"were alive and tried to stop me."

Myrmeen moved past the others, then ran toward the end of the alley. Cardoc and the Harpers followed. The man and woman were gone, and the shadows were quickly dissipating. All evidence of the Night Parade's presence was vanishing before her, along with all hope of ever finding her daughter.

Ord pointed upward. "Look!"

The Harpers trained their gazes at the rooftops. "I see nothing," Burke said. "What was it?"

Ord shook his head. "The leg of a spider, I'm certain. It scampered over the edge of that rooftop."

"The spider would have to be the size of a man for you to be able to see it at this distance," Reisz said.

"Yes," Ord said as he took a few tentative steps forward, "I know."

On the rooftop, Imperator Zeal glanced down at the humans, the fires within his breast continuing to rage.

"Tamara," he said, his voice distant, the call of the fire surging within him like a drug. The beautiful, lean, muscled woman approached him, a dangerous smile upon her exotic features. She appeared in her mid-twenties, and her hair was a very dark brunette, almost black. Zeal turned and ran his hand through her gorgeous, shining hair, which was long and given to curls, then he stared into her fine, dark eyes flecked with crimson. Only the most delicate traces of lines could be seen beneath her eyes and around her mouth. Her complexion was soft and light. She had a small bust, generous hips, and long legs. There was an elegant flow to the lines of her body. She wore a black-and-red shift that would fall away quickly when she made the change. Sandals protected her feet and a waist sash carried her valuables.

"My love," she whispered as she leaned close and kissed him, her tongue snaking into his mouth to taste the intense heat within him. She pulled away and caressed his face. "You know why I didn't help the others." "Of course," she said with a knowing laugh. "No man may command Imperator Zeal, save for Lord Sixx." "And yet a woman can bend me to her will," he snapped. "He humiliates you and you take it. He treats you like a buffoon, a servant, and yet you give him nothing but love and loyalty. Perhaps he is justified in his treatment of you.

"He's jealous of you," Tamara said for perhaps the hundredth time. "He fears you. He does not understand that every time his words lash you in public, he merely strengthens the love of the people for you."

"Even if that is true, his fears are not warranted," Zeal responded. "I am not an ambitious man. What would I do with the power of the Night Parade at my command, if that is what you are urging me to take?"

Tamara gave no answer. Imperator Zeal suspected she had another motive for wanting him to depose Lord Sixx, as wealth and power had never especially interested her. In his heart he prayed that his beloved and trusted friend would not force him to choose between them.

She touched his lips with her finger. "I love you, husband. If you wish me to keep my opinions to myself, I will do so."

Zeal shook his head. He knew that was a lie, and even if it were true, he valued her counsel and the audacious fire that burned within her. Glancing at the alley once more, he saw that the humans were leaving. The assassins that Zeal had sent against the humans had been his Inextinguishables, the elite of his enforcers. Many of his kind could be killed with a simple knife thrust; they were as vulnerable as any human. How would it look if he allowed the killers of the Night Parade's finest to go free?

"We should kill them," he said. "It would be a simple matter for us. Even the mage-"

"Let them live," she urged. "The edicts of our kind tell us that we are to avoid direct confrontation whenever possible. This scene will draw attention."

"They will not stop," he said.

"They must. There is nowhere left for them to turn."

Zeal's hands bunched into fists. "They know we exist."

"Who would believe them?" she said as she kissed his throat and licked a single bead of sweat that descended along the hard, glistening muscles of his neck. Below, the humans on the street were quickly out of view.

"You are certain they will stop?" he asked.

"Of course," Tamara said as she turned the red-haired man to face her. "What choice do they have?"

With a passionate cry, she threw her arms around her husband, kissing him full on the mouth. He returned the kiss greedily, roughly caressing her hard, trim flesh. The call of the flames rose up within his body.

As they kissed, small piles of trash burst into flame on the rooftop.