Music welcomed us as we entered the necromancer's mountainside mansion. It was a gentle, classical piece emanating from speakers tucked into ceiling alcoves. I couldn't recall hearing music the last time we visited, but my senses seemed more attuned now. We were greeted by Dmitry's faithful servant, Igor, but he wasn't the only one to attend to us. I noticed at least half a dozen more bodies than before, all buzzing around the estate like worker bees.

Vincent and I were given the same room as before, overlooking the labyrinth, while Wren got settled into the room beside us, making it easy for Henry to be transferred from one caretaker to the other through a shared bathroom. Pitchers of water sat on each table, along with a plate of lemon wedges. There was even a rocking chair added to our room. Apparently, Dmitry had given explicit instructions to find one that provided maximum comfort.

Igor seemed overly eager to describe every amenity his gracious master had seen to before our arrival, ensuring we had a pleasant and relaxing stay. I did my best not to roll my eyes as a maid calling herself Truly pointed out the fuzzy slippers and thick, terrycloth robes left expressly for our use. No way was I sticking my feet into something that might be hiding a malicious spider.

While we waited for Dmitry to make his grand entrance, Wren spent time in front of the dressing table. She enhanced her already large eyes with a set of lashes she called her secret weapons, and I twisted her dark, wavy hair into a French braid. After that, she changed from her traveling clothes into a black, calf-length dress sprinkled with red roses.

The cut of the dress allowed her right leg to slip through the silky fabric as she walked, and the low-cut bodice revealed just enough cleavage to force a glance. The look offered the perfect blend of subtlety and distraction. Given that the only weakness Dmitry seemed to possess was his fondness for a woman's company, we were playing to that weakness without shame.

When Igor summoned us for dinner, Vincent assumed the protective Lion King role, toting his cub into the dining room, who had been sleeping fitfully inside his car seat. As expected, the table stood empty apart from place settings. Vincent was shown to his chair beside the head of the table. Then, ignoring Igor's attempt to seat me on the opposite side, he pulled out the chair next to him, gesturing me into it and setting Henry down between us.

Wren was seated across the table from Vincent, and when Igor helped her settle in, I noticed him admiring her cleavage. At least, her plan was working on the staff.

"His grace will attend you any moment," he said as he performed a small bow. "I have been instructed to open a bottle of pinot noir. A special favorite of the master. The grapes are grown in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania. Is there something else I can get you?"

"I'd love some black tea, if you have it," I asked. I'd been jonesing for a caffeine boost.

"Indeed, we do. Luba, our driver, enjoys it every day with her mid-day meal. I will return promptly with your beverages."

When Igor left the room, Wren spoke as she leaned across the table. "If only we could train Bates to adopt the decorum of that nice man."

"That nice man was checking out your rack," Vincent told her bluntly.

"Don't be a prude, Vincent. That's the point, isn't it?" She threw him a dismissive wave, and I watched as she scanned the room, taking in her surroundings. When her gaze landed on a painting of two robust, nude women entwined on a bed, a smile tweaked her lips. "Dmitry certainly appears to be a collector of fine paintings. I recognize that one from an exhibition at The Met. I just can't recall the artist's name."

"Zat piece is called Sleep, and vas painted by Gustave Courbet."

Everyone turned in their seats as Dmitry crossed the room. He approached the table in calm, graceful strides, and I couldn't help thinking he had been hiding around the corner, waiting for the perfect time to stage his entrance. I refused to let him think I was impressed, but I had to work hard not to react to his appearance.

It wasn't that he looked strange, the way he had during our summer solstice visit. He looked far from it. Dressed to the nines in Ralph Lauren and outfitted with a green ascot, Dmitry reminded me of a character from The Great Gatsby. His polished head shimmered against the glow of the chandelier, and he wasn't even wearing his funny sunglasses, granting his striking, aquamarine eyes center stage.

There was almost a handsome quality to him, and I was momentarily taken in. Then he offered a smile that he probably thought was attractive, and I saw right through to his undead heart. Unfortunately, Wren appeared to be blinded by Dmitry's false charm, and a blush colored her cheeks as his sparkling gaze landed on her.

He swept up next to Wren's chair, completely ignoring me and Vincent, and performed a respectful bow. Blinking her secret weapons lazily, Wren offered her hand to him, allowing him to kiss it. "Do not tell me you are Vincent's mother. I simply refuse to believe it."

"You may believe whatever you wish. I won't argue," she said with a demure smile.

Dmitry stood there a moment with Wren's hand resting inside his, and I saw a muscle twitch in his cheek. "I am very glad you chose to accompany your son and daughter-in-law all zis way. I vill do everything in my power to ensure a pleasant visit."

Liar.

Dmitry took his seat and finally acknowledged Vincent and me. "Velcome back, Mr. and Mrs. Valentino. I trust zhe journey vas uneventful?" He lifted one eyebrow, making me think he knew we had stayed too long in Bucharest. Then again, it was probably just his usual strange behavior.

"It was adequate," Vincent said dryly.

Leaning over the arm of his chair, Dmitry pretended to show interest in our son, who was no longer asleep and had begun to glance around fretfully, like he was trying to find the exit. "And your son appears healthy. Zat is good. My congratulations to you both."

"Thank you." Vincent didn't sound at all thankful, but Igor was back, and he zipped around the table filling our glasses with wine, cutting the tension. Dmitry didn't seem bothered by the obvious frost in Vincent's tone, and he began talking about the excellent meal being prepared by his superb kitchen staff.

"It looks like you've increased your workforce," I said. "I don't remember there being this many bodies at the estate on our last visit."

"I have found a need for more help in recent months." Dmitry never glanced my way as he delivered his taciturn reply, and he busied himself with a plate of rye bread that had just been set on the table. I reached for Vincent's arm and gave it a squeeze, sending him a questioning look. Had he noticed the blow-off too? The subtle lowering of his eyebrows told me he had.

The meal proceeded without incident, although we hadn't quite made it through before Henry decided it was his turn. Wren made to stand up to fetch him, but I gestured for her to sit. She and Dmitry were engaged in a spirited conversation about the second bottle of wine that had been opened, and I didn't want to break the spell.

"He's probably ready to eat," I said as I lifted Henry out of his seat and bounced him on my shoulder. "The meal was delicious, but if you wouldn't mind excusing me, I need to retire to feed my son."

Both Vincent and Dmitry stood as I left, and Vincent promised to check on me soon. Like an obedient dog, one of the servants hurried over to carry the car seat to my room. While I was grateful for his help, I had hoped to make a quick detour to snoop around. There hadn't been any sign that Terra was on the premises, and I could only hope it didn't mean she was locked up in one of the cells with her zombie comrades.

Henry nursed like he'd been starved for days, suckling desperately and using his little hands to latch onto my shirt and kneed my breasts. I rocked him steadily, singing a few silly tunes my mom sung me when I was young. I had to compete with the constant melodies playing overhead, but neither seemed to soothe him. I couldn't help thinking he was picking up on my anxiety.

It wasn't until I stopped singing that I heard something else behind the strings and woodwinds. Something that didn't blend at all with the rhythm of the music. The sound was low and guttural, like a growl. I knew the sound well. Both gollums and demons were prone to growling. Was I hearing the moans of the undead? Was that the reason for the background music?

I didn't like the images that came to mind as I strained to listen, so I tried to ignore it, focusing solely on Henry and his suckling noises. Just as he dozed off, Vincent arrived. He looked rattled, and after checking that Henry and I were okay, he walked to the window to scowl out of it.

"Are you alright, Vincent? What happened after I left?"

"Dmitry and Wren are taking a walk through the labyrinth. He didn't take his lascivious eyes off her through the entire meal. Now, they're alone in the garden."

"Your mother is capable of handling herself around men. Besides, isn't this what we wanted? She came along to distract him, and it seems she's doing a pretty good job of it."

Breathing heavily against the glass, Vincent ground his teeth. "Dmitry isn't like other men. She would be defenseless against him. I need to follow them."

"No, Vincent. We need to follow the plan. While your mother distracts Dmitry, you sneak downstairs and see how many new recruits he's added. According to Christoph, there have been nine demons reported missing in eastern Europe alone. Who knows about the other regions."

"I know the stats," he said without lifting his focused gaze. "But there are eyes everywhere. In front of every door. I had a damned maid follow me to our room. I'm sure Dmitry has instructed them to watch our every move."

"Maybe the maid was appreciating your fine assets." I offered a smirk, but I was the only one. He didn't budge. "You're the stealthiest gollum I know. I'm sure you'll think of something." I stood from the rocker and carried Henry to the bed, pulling back the covers one-handed. "I'm going to take a short nap with Henry. You're welcome to join us, or you can go play hide and seek with the staff."

Vincent finally turned away from the window, releasing the scowl that had kept his eyebrows in lock down. He tucked me and our son in, then leaned over to kiss us both. "You're right, as usual. Sometimes I wonder if I had a shred of restraint before we met."

"Who says you have any now?" This time, I saw a smirk, and he left me with that endearing image, pulling the door shut behind his fine assets. After making sure Henry was asleep and waiting until I was sure Vincent wasn't returning for something he'd forgotten, I slipped out of bed. I had no intention of taking a nap, but if I'd told Vincent what I was up to, he would have told me to forget it.

First, I searched for the switch that controlled the speakers. There had to be a way to cut the music off inside the room. After looking in all the places no one would think to look, I walked to the built-in bookshelves that stood beside the door, a logical location for a switch. Since the lights were controlled by a chain hanging from the ceiling fan, I hadn't thought to wonder why there wasn't a wall switch. The estate was old, but it had clearly been modernized when electricity came along.

Starting with the middle shelf, which seemed the most likely place to hide a knob or toggle, I pulled books out two-by-two, stacking them on the rocker. I didn't have to search long before I found both a knob and a switch hiding behind the books. Assuming the knob adjusted the volume, I went for the switch first, flicking it down. The music stopped. Just to be sure I hadn't flipped the main switch, I listened at the door, and when I heard the music playing in the hall, I figured I was safe. Now, it would be easier to hear the strange growls I'd noticed earlier.

I followed the sounds to a vented grate near the base of the wall and crouched in front of it. The rush of conditioned air blew against my face, which felt amazing, but I wasn't there to cool off. Unfortunately, I couldn't hear the sounds anymore, or maybe the mechanical hum of the A/C was covering them. So, I waited for the drone to stop, which was nearly as distracting as the music, and my legs were just beginning to complain when the growling started up again.

Sitting on my bottom, I tried to decipher the noises carrying through the vent. It sounded like a single voice, and the voice was muffled, like they were gagged. Whoever it belonged to was tired. They only seemed able to release one long, morose groan before stopping, probably to take a breath. Inspecting the vent, I noticed the latches were easy to disengage, and, a second later, I was looking into an air duct large enough to fit an average-sized human.

Flashing back ten months ago to my experience with a demon who was determined to drag me through the ductwork of the Governor's Mansion, I decided it couldn't hurt to investigate these growls and see where they were coming from. Actually, I had already decided it before Vincent arrived, but I couldn't see him fitting his body through the hole in the wall. He was definitely not average.

I shimmied through the opening but didn't get far before my generous backside resisted the junction between the metal frame and the duct. The fact that I was alone, made it a lot less embarrassing, and with a stifled grunt, I wiggled myself through and proceeded on my way.

The growling continued in its stop and start pattern, guiding me in what I hoped was the right direction. Fortunately, the ductwork appeared to have been installed this century, and I didn't see any rat droppings as I scooted along, passing various grates as I went. When I came to a three-way intersection, I was forced to make a choice, and I stopped crawling to use my supernatural hearing, a gift I didn't realize was a gift until the Valentinos found me.

The sounds lured me to the right, where the muffled growls grew stronger, but how far would I need to go before I reached my target? What if some nosy housekeeper found my son unattended? The thought sent a shiver through my bones, and I pushed myself on. I had already committed myself to this mad scheme. I needed to see it through.

When I came to another intersection, I stopped again. The voice was very close now, possibly at the end of the duct to my left. Knowing I didn't have all the time in the world, I shimmied the last few feet until I came to another vented grate. Despite the fact that I'd become acquainted with small, tunnel-like spaces, I found myself on the verge of hyperventilating as I rested in front of it.

Peeking through the slats, I was only able to see a foot or so above the ground, but it didn't take me long to recognize the objects in the room. It was Dmitry's gallery. The unusual shape of his infinity staircase stood in the center, all metal and grace, with a collection of marble columns dotting the perimeter.

But where was the groaning coming from? I saw nothing that resembled a body, although I heard the moans clearly now. After giving the room a thorough search, at least as thorough as I could manage from my compromised position, I decided it was time to retreat. At least, I had discovered the location of the voice. And, whoever it was, didn't want to be there.

Backing up turned out to be a little more problematic, not only from a directional standpoint, but I had begun to hyperventilate again. Maybe I wasn't as comfortable with small spaces as I thought. Closing my eyes, I used my other senses to shimmy backwards, hoping the turns I had made were correct, and I opened my eyes only to confirm my location.

When I recognized the grate that led to Wren's bedroom, I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd made it back unscathed. Then I heard a door open and close. It sounded very close, and my heartrate skyrocketed. I backed up as fast as I could and started squeezing my derriere through the open grate, when I heard the deep rumble of my mate's voice.

"Reese. What the hell are you doing?"

"Oh. Hey, Vincent," I grunted as a pair of strong hands grabbed my waist and pulled me loose. "I heard a noise and thought I should investigate."

Vincent helped me to my feet, and based on his pinched expression, he wasn't terribly pleased to find me wiggling backwards out of a hole in the wall. "It must have been a damned interesting noise for you to crawl through the ductwork."

We sat together on the edge of the mattress, and I reached over to stroke Henry's cheek as he lay slumbering like an angel. "Well, after you left the room, I heard these growls. I thought they might be coming from Dmitry's undead demons, but once I turned the music off, I was able to hear a single voice. And, whoever the voice belonged to was probably gagged. The growls were muffled. I traced the sound to that air vent, and when I noticed how easy it was to open the grate, I decided to do a little scouting."

Glancing at the still open grate, he shook his head. "Sounds like something you'd do. So, did you find out anything useful on this scouting expedition?"

"Yes and no. I found out where the growls were coming from. Inside Dmitry's gallery. But I had a limited view of the room from the duct, so I crawled back. All in all, I guess it was a wasted trip. If Dmitry is torturing someone inside his gallery, he certainly isn't going to invite us in."

"What makes you think they're being tortured?"

"I could tell by their mournful tone. Whoever it is sounds exhausted and unhappy."

"Why don't we ask for another tour? We can tell him we were so impressed by his collections, we wanted more time to browse. Both of us know how much he likes to brag. If he denies us entry, we'll know he's hiding something."

A feeling swept through my body as we sat there contemplating the necromancer's evil deeds. It was the same feeling I'd had as we drew closer to the estate; a sense of urgency that, if not dealt with soon, could lead to tragedy. I slipped my fingers around Vincent's hand, tugging his arm toward me. "Did you find anything useful on your scouting expedition?"

His chin touched his chest as he heaved a frustrated sigh. "A big fat nothing. The servants were on me like vultures on roadkill. I ended-up walking through the maze and spying on Dmitry and Wren."

"Oh, yeah? Hear any juicy bits?"

"Nothing of great importance. Dmitry talked about buying another estate in Asia. No doubt he's planning to use it as barracks for his future undead army." He turned to face me, letting me read the worry in his stormy gaze. "How are you feeling? Any strange symptoms since we arrived?"

I knew Vincent was good at picking up on my emotions. We had both been suffering from nerves before the trip. "I feel like something bad will happen if I don't act soon, but I don't know if that's just me worried about the plan, or something else. Why do you ask?"

Vincent pulled his hand out of my grasp and stretched his fingers. "For starters, your hand feels like it's on fire."

My mouth fell open, and that's when I noticed his hand was red as a beet. "Oh, my God, Vincent. I'm sorry. I didn't realize..." I lifted my hand to inspect it and gasped when I saw an orange trail following the lines of Isis's mark. When I lifted the other hand, that mark was glowing too. Was the goddess trying to tell me something?

I jumped when a knock came at the door, and I immediately stuffed my hands into my lap.

"Mr. and Mrs. Valentino?" Igor said politely. "Are you in there?"

"Yes! What is it?" Vincent boomed a little too loudly.

"His grace would like you to join him in the solarium. I will escort you there."

I let Vincent tuck our still slumbering son into his playpen, since my palms were still glowing even after I'd repeated a calming mantra. Then Vincent and I followed Igor to a massive glass room. It occupied the entire rear corner of the estate, allowing the sun to fill the space with light and warmth. Although the sun had nearly vanished behind the mountain range bordering Dmitry's home, I immediately felt revitalized as I entered the space. We were also treated to an unhindered view of the maze.

"It is beautiful, dah?" Dmitry said as he stood across the room pouring drinks into insanely large shot glasses. By the looks of the bottle and the clear liquid being poured out, I knew it had to be vodka. "During zhe vinter, zis is zhe best place to watch zhe snow fall."

"I'm sure it's magical," Wren offered from her position on a richly upholstered sofa. She sat cross-legged, allowing the split in her dress to fall open and expose both legs all the way to the thigh. Dmitry's gaze stayed on her more than it did on the drinks. If he still suffered from vision impairment, it wasn't obvious now.

He picked up the three glasses and walked them over to Wren, handing her one as his eyes devoured her body like a hungry wolf. His expression changed, however as he continued on towards me and Vincent, turning cold and flat. But there was something else too. A hint of uncertainty played on his face as he handed Vincent his glass.

"Zis is zhe finest vodka produced today," he explained as he walked away. "I know you do not partake, Reese, so zhere is water on zhe table if you vish to pretend."

I blinked at Dmitry's retreating back, then at Vincent, who offered an apologetic shrug that said Yes, he's a strange fuck. Just go with it.

"I'm good, thanks," I said. "So, Dmitry... You mentioned the last time we met that removing the curse would take some time. How long are we talking, and what does it involve?"

After positioning himself at the opposite side of the room, Dmitry turned and held up a finger. "First ve toast. Zhen ve talk." He lifted his glass, waiting a moment for Wren and Vincent to follow before reciting his toast. "To long lives and even longer deaths."

Dmitry emptied his glass in one go, while Vincent and Wren just looked at each other. "That seems like a strange thing to toast to," Wren said. "Unless, I suppose, you're an Egyptian goddess. In that case..." Leaning forward, Wren took the pitcher from the table and poured me a glass of water, holding it out as I walked over to accept it. "A toast. To Egyptian goddesses and the strength they give us."

"I'll drink to that," I said as I brought the glass to my lips. But before I could drink, Vincent snatched my arm, causing the water to dribble down my chin. I didn't get a chance to question him when he jerked his head across the room. I followed his gaze to the necromancer, who watched with a devious and all-too-eager smile.

"Ah, come now," Dmitry crooned innocently. "Zat vater comes from zhe purest source. Vhat reason vould I have to poison it?"

"I can think of several off the top of my head," Vincent said. "Why don't you take a drink and prove it's pure?"

Snorting, Dmitry waved Vincent's request away as he refilled his glass with vodka. "If I had vanted to poison any of you, ve vouldn't be here having zis conversation."

"So, why are we here?" I said. He was still avoiding eye contact with me, which had surely become obvious to everyone.

"Ve are here to drink, of course."

"And after the drinking, then what happens?" I went on, still trying to get him to look at me.

"Ve discuss a trade." Dmitry's eyes finally flicked to me, and my mouth suddenly went dry as a strong wave of nausea hit me in the gut. I also felt a tingle against my palm as I clenched my drink. Wishing like hell it wasn't potentially poisoned, I glanced at the water and realized it had come to a rolling boil.

I loaded my guns and shot back a look that would have had any man combusting on the spot. "I didn't come here to make a trade. But since you brought it up, what are we trading?"

His lips curved into a snake-like smile, and I almost expected him to hiss. Instead, he steepled his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he spoke. "You vill have to follow me to learn zhat. Zhe subject in question is vaiting for us in my gallery."