Page 40 of Dark Dragon’s Wolf

They were clear now, as if he and Mayah and Kira were really there. But obviously they weren’t—he could see the other two, but unlike their ghostly projections, the prisoners didn’t seem to see him or Mayah at all.

They were gathered together in small groups, talking. Some were playing with their children; others seemed to be telling stories, though he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Once in a while, someone even laughed. How could anyone laugh in here? How long must they have been here, for this to seem so normal they could laugh?

Mayah asked her sister, Can you make one of those rips in space here? Could we get them out that way?

Kira concentrated, holding her hand out in front of her and moving it downward a few inches. She shook her head.

No. I think it’s warded, like your castle, so that no one can come wandering in here uninvited.

She murmured something under her breath, and glowing magical symbols appeared all over the place. The walls, the doors, the reinforced metal door at the end of the hallway.

The only way out.

Fuck. Are those all wards? Tristan asked, looking around at the glowing symbols.

Yep. They have this place warded against dragons, sorcerers, shifters—pretty much everything they could think of. The only reason we got in is because they called you and Mayah. She gestured at the people in the cells. At least, part of them did.

Mayah was still gazing at the people. Look at them, she said softly. So many.

We should take a count, Tristan said. The evacuation plan is going to depend on how many there are.

Kira nodded and went to one end of the corridor, while Tristan started for the other end, counting as he went.

He got to the next-to-last cell and stopped, staring.

Inside the cell was someone he knew. He hadn’t seen the man for a dozen years or more, but he still recognized him instantly.

And his wife.

At that moment, the man looked up and saw him. His eyes went wide with shock.

“Tristan,” he said. It sounded far away and garbled, like someone speaking underwater, but he could read the man’s lips.

His wife, next to him, turned and looked. They reached out to him. Save us.

Pain knifed through his forehead, and he felt blood dripping from his nose.

There was another whoosh, and everything blurred around him as he moved through the spirit world. For a moment, he couldn’t feel Mayah or Kira.

And then they were back in Flynn’s office, and blood was pouring down his face and dripping onto the table.

“Shit!” Kira jumped up and ran into the next room, coming back with a towel. Black, like most of the Bad Bloods’ towels, so the bloodstains wouldn’t show afterward. Tristan shoved it against his nose and tipped his head back, which immediately made blood run down his throat, choking him.

Shit. This was the worst one yet.

Flynn came around the table and slapped his hands down on Tristan’s shoulders. Cool, healing blue light came out of the bracelets and filled his head. In a minute, the bleeding stopped and the headache calmed to a dull throb.

“Jesus fuck,” Flynn said. “Your brains are about leaking out. What the hell is happening to you?”

Mayah said, “One of the ‘ghosts’ made contact with him. And we were right. They’re not ghosts. They’re prisoners.”

Kira raised her hand. “I know where they are, if anybody’s interested.”

Tristan removed the towel and wiped the blood off his chin.

“I can go one better,” he said. “I know who they are.”