"I doubt that they will. I believe he got to them."

"Who, milord?"

Sixx grabbed Pieraccinni by the front of his shirt and hauled him into the air with inhuman strength, the blade pressed against the man's throat. "Who do you think, idiot?"

The shirt ripped and Pieraccinni flopped to the ground. Lord Sixx retracted the wire and sheathed the knife. "Him. The Slayer. The human who stole the apparatus and uses it to kill more and more of our kind. The presence of the Lhal woman has been a minor disruption compared to the affront this man committed against us. Years have passed and we are no closer to finding him. We need to hold a festival, but we cannot until we recover the apparatus and punish this man who denies us our blood rite."

"Lord Sixx, I assure you that our best agents have been assigned to the task. The Inextinguishables will-"

"I want results, not reassurances," Lord Sixx roared as he raised both hands into the air. The walls suddenly buckled inward. From his vantage point, Alden felt a strange, arcane wind that prickled his skin and nearly sucked him into the room. He dug his heels into the door frame and held on to the door so that it would not fly open and alert the two men to his presence. Alden saw strange energies swirl and coalesce around Pieraccinni's body, shredding his clothing as he writhed in agony. Lord Sixx casually leaned against the desk and crossed his arms over his chest, as if he were not affected by the supernatural gales.

"Enough," Sixx said. The winds died away instantly. The tall man scratched the side of his nose. "Without the dampers I installed in this lair for you, exactly how long do you think it would be before you started to draw not only the ambient magic so prevalent in this city, but also a chunk or two of the weave that surrounds this world? You know what happens if you get too much magic, don't you?"

"Yes," Pieraccinni said, once again on his knees.

"Then we understand each other. Find the thief or I will lower the gates and let you drown," Lord Sixx said as he glanced at the closest of several large oil-burning lamps and gestured. The room was engulfed in pitch darkness for an instant, as if the eye of their ancient god had closed for a moment. Then the light returned and Lord Sixx was gone.

Alden watched Pieraccinni lie on the floor, sobbing and quivering until his fear and shame had passed. As the man rose and walked to the large clothes closet, stripping off his ruined tunic, Alden closed the door quietly and considered his options. After waiting in the hallway for several minutes, Alden knocked at the door.

"Come," Pieraccinni called.

Alden entered the room, his face cold and without emotion as he said, "Milord, I have something to report…"

Across the city, in the deserted building that had been a clothing mill and warehouse, Erin Shandower placed a new dressing on the cut above his left eye.

"So, you're the one," Krystin said excitedly. "You're the Slayer. That's what they call you, you know."

"Flattering," Shandower said, laughing bitterly as he regarded his rapidly aging face in the mirror.

"What? You're not going to tell me your life's story?"

"Not unless I have to," Shandower said as he regarded the other members of the group he had brought to his safe house. There were few comforts here. A cot, blankets, salves to treat wounds, stores of food, lanterns, and empty wooden crates were all that could be seen except for a few broken looms left against the far wall and a mound of debris that he had swept into the corner. The woman and her companions had barely spoken in the last few hours.

Krystin had railed against Myrmeen to explain why she had called the girl her daughter, but the beautiful brunette's dark eyes revealed only weariness and grief. Krystin gave up and lay down on the cot, pretending to sleep in the hope that the adults would talk about her. After a time she abandoned her ruse and went to Shandower, fascinated by his gauntlet and the power she sensed within him. Power, perhaps, to banish all of her nightmares.

"Erin Shandower," she said. "Why do I know that name?"

"This is not the time for discussion," Shandower said. "Perhaps in the morning we will talk."

Lucius rose. "I'll tell you why his name is familiar: He was a wealthy man. He secured the financing for much of the city's rebuilding fourteen years ago, after the great storm devastated Calimport. He was known for his public works and his talent for increasing the city's wealth."

Myrmeen looked up. "What are you talking about? The two of you know each other?"

"I know of him," Lucius said. "I told you, I take my responsibilities seriously."

"We all do," Reisz said as he placed his hand on Ord's shoulder. The young man sat beside him, quietly managing his pain over the deaths of his surrogate parents. He knew why Myrmeen had struck him: there was a good chance that more of the nightmare creatures were in the building and the fire would have driven them out of hiding. Although he had known the moment he had seen the flames that Burke and Varina were beyond saving, he would have tried to rescue them and probably would have lost his life in the effort. His adopted parents had wanted more for him than that and he had silently vowed to honor their lives and their wishes-after he saw the Night Parade destroyed. Ord looked up and listened intently to the conversation.

"According to all public record, Erin Shandower passed on about four years ago," Lucius said.

Myrmeen nodded and shifted her gaze to the long-haired man who walked across the room and joined them, Krystin close behind. "Do you want to explain that?" she asked.

Shandower pulled up a crate and sat across from Myrmeen. "You understand what I do?"

"Yes," Ord said, breaking his self-imposed silence, "you kill monsters."

"I'm waging a war," Shandower amended.

"The odds are six thousand to one," Reisz said stiffly.

"It doesn't matter. Four years ago, when I decided to undertake this mission, my name was too well known. Erin Shandower had a position and responsibilities. The idea of a public entity like myself fighting a secret war against the people of nightmare sounded absurd to me and so I arranged for my own death. A fire. The body they found was one of the Night Parade's, one that appeared human. I haven't used my real name in years. I don't know why I did today."

"You've been following us," Myrmeen said.

"Of course," Shandower said. "I wanted to see if you were true allies in my cause."

"I don't believe any of this," Reisz said. "Why would you give up all you had? Why throw your life away?"

Shandower's face darkened. "I was not born wealthy. When I was young I fell in love with a beautiful, exciting woman who was as poor as I was, or so I had believed. Shortly after we married, I learned that she was heir to a fortune. A year after our union, she inherited. I found that the breezy life of a rich man did not suit me. I had been a warrior. Restless, I fell in with practitioners of the art and went on a journey of discovery with them that lasted half a year. All I learned was that I had been a fool to go away.

"When I returned to Calimport, my wife was dead. She had gone mad and taken her own life, or so the story went. I didn't believe it, and my investigation led me to forbidden knowledge. I found her killers."

"The Night Parade," Lucius said.

Shandower nodded. "I learned a great deal about them, including the fact that the great storm of fourteen years ago was not a storm at all. A festival of evil occurred here."

"But I remember the storm," Myrmeen said.

"Of course," Shandower said. "The monsters mask then-festivals by creating false memories in the survivors, such as storms, plagues, attacks by raiders, whatever they like. During the festival, they take every child that is born that night. The time was approaching for them to hold a new festival. I decided to try and stop them."