A soft rumble sounded beside her. Like breathing. She whirled, one hand on her talisman, the other gripping the dagger. The stone wolf was the only thing there, its teeth bared in a snarl. Anna’s adrenaline surged even though the creature wasn’t real. She stepped away, anxious to get away from those stone teeth. A movement along the side of the fortress caught her eye. The skinny man was creeping around the corner, as if he didn’t want to be seen any more than she did. Leaving the wolf behind her, she ran after the skinny man, keeping close to the shadows of the fortress as she moved past the long windows toward the back.

A pale blond head appeared at one window, and Anna ducked behind a tree. The person was gone when she looked back, but an icy prickle crawled over her skin. The vampire Ronan was hunting had pale blond hair, but he said they’d captured the creature. There must be others. If this fortress belonged to vampires, she was up the creek. Her talisman was useless against the creatures. The only sure way to kill them was to pierce their hearts or take their heads. She had her dagger, but vampires moved like the wind, making them a hard target.

Too late to turn back now. As soon as she had the thought, something flashed across the yard toward her, and she started running. The shape slammed in to her, sending her headlong into a tree. She lay there, dazed, but a hiss jump-started her adrenaline. A glint caught her eye. Her dagger. She’d dropped it when she was hit. She grabbed it and leapt to her feet, slicing at what she hoped was a vampire neck. It wasn’t. The thing, whatever it was—she still couldn’t see it clearly—picked her up and threw her against the side of the fortress. Something cracked. She hoped it was the stone wall and not one of her bones. Rolling to her side, she gritted her teeth against the pain and jumped up. She heard a howling sound, and her attacker stopped. She could see now that it was a man, short, dark, with spiky hair. He was looking toward the front of the fortress, toward the sound.

Gripping her dagger, she launched herself at him. He turned at the last second, but he was too late. Anna drove her dagger through his heart. A little more to the left than she would have liked, but it did the trick. With a startled gasp, he turned to dust before her eyes.

A vampire. A bloody vampire. The howling continued, closer now. They must have guard dogs, and nasty ones from the sound of it. She hurried toward the back of the fortress, in the direction the skinny man had gone. Away from the dogs. There was a small offset entrance around the corner. The door was ajar, as if someone had forgotten to close it all the way. There was no time to make sure she wasn’t leaping from the frying pan to the fire. She had only one second to sniff for danger. She smelled sweat. Fear. The skinny man, she hoped. Better him than a pack of guard dogs.

Quietly but quickly, she closed the door and listened. Nothing on this side. Outside, the howls grew louder, more ferocious. The noise would draw any other creatures here. She had no idea if she was dealing with only vampires or if there were demons here too, but she had no choice except to keep going and try to find the way up to the first floor and back out. With a place this size, there could be dozens, or even hundreds, of vampires or demons. She couldn’t take them on alone. And Ronan would want to be in on this fight. He hated vampires after what had happened to Cam.

Anna did a quick check around her. There was a faint glow like she’d seen in the windows outside. A set of descending stairs led to the nicest dungeon she’d ever seen. And she’d seen more than she wanted. Demons loved castles and fortresses. She didn’t know much about vampires yet. The clan still had a lot to learn about their new enemy. This dungeon had a wide, arched corridor with suits of armor and statues lining the walls. Amber sconces provided the glow, giving the illusion of warmth when it was really cold.

The deeper she went, the more the place resembled a dungeon. There were several doors with small, barred windows. She came to another corridor and saw two cells on her right. One had heavy shackles attached to the wall above a stone bench and another set of shackles bolted to the floor. A low cry sounded from the opposite direction. An angry, helpless sound like an animal that knew it was dying. It was even more disturbing than the howling outside. She pressed herself against the wall and moved closer to the sound. A door rattled, and she heard a dull slap, like a fist on flesh, followed by a groan.

“Not holding up so well today, are you?” a man said.

She couldn’t see if this was the skinny man, but it didn’t sound like his voice.

Several more slaps were followed by groans. Anna moved close enough to peer inside the room. The first thing she saw was a pile of clothing on the floor, and then she saw the naked man. He was chained to a wall by his wrists. His ankles were shackled to the floor, and his back was facing her. He was young and muscular with dark hair almost touching the angry red slashes that streaked across his back. He snarled, and the muscles in his forearms bulged as he yanked at his chains.

“One more,” his captor jeered. He was a big man, more fat than muscle, bald, and held a bullwhip with knots tied at the end. She couldn’t tell if he was a vampire, demon, halfling, or human. He didn’t smell like a demon, but if he was in human form, he wouldn’t. He might just be a nasty minion. He pulled his arm back and flicked his wrist. The whip snaked through the air and landed on the prisoner’s back, the knotted end digging into his ribs. The prisoner’s body jerked. He cried out, and his body went slack.

Bile rose in Anna’s throat. Was he dead? Her fingers tightened on her dagger, but it wouldn’t be wise to intervene now. She didn’t know who he was or what this place was. But it was bad.

* * *

The prisoner knew he wasn’t dead. He hurt too much to be dead. That was the only thing he knew about himself. That, and that he was a killer. He knew this because he was certain exactly how he’d kill the fat guard holding the whip if he could get loose from these chains and rid of the cloudiness in his head. A door slammed deeper in the dungeon, and he heard a roar. He’d heard it before. What in hell was this place? Maybe this was hell. Then he smelled it. Through the agony and darkness slipping over him, a light fragrance wafted on the air. He didn’t know how, but he knew that smell.

The guard loosened the chain attached to the prisoner’s shackles, and he fell to his knees. A cup was shoved to his mouth. “Drink.”

He wanted to refuse, but he was thirsty. He opened cracked lips and drained the cup. His body was shaking so half the contents ran down his chin.

“If you want to use the toilet, do it now.” The guard removed the shackles from his hands but left the long chain securing his feet to the floor. Still holding the whip, the guard forced him to his feet, then shoved him toward the strange pot in the corner. The prisoner stumbled into place and started to lift his kilt, and then realized he was naked. He took aim, as best as he could with shaking hands. Bloody hands. A memory pulled loose from the emptiness of his mind. A man lying on the forest floor with deep slashes running the length of his chest. The prisoner could almost smell the blood. The man moved, his eyes widening with recognition. Pleading. Pleading for what? Mercy?

The prisoner looked at his bloody hands again. Had he killed the man in the forest?

“You gonna piss or not?”

Through swollen eyelids he saw the guard leering. He always watched when he was naked or exposed. Bloody pervert. The prisoner managed a few drops, but it hurt too much to stand. He pushed the lever, this time too near collapsing to marvel at the water swirling as the pot emptied.

The guard forced him back to the wall and shackled his wrists, bumping the prisoner’s swollen finger. It was a clean break. It should heal in a few days if they would stop beating him. “Don’t cause trouble and I’ll give you double food rations tomorrow.” The guard’s voice was sharper than usual, his smirk replaced with a worried frown. “Make me look bad in front of the master, and as soon as he’s gone again, you’ll starve. I’ll tell him you’re failing his experiments.”

The prisoner slumped against the wall, wincing when his back grazed the hard stone. But exhaustion pulled at him stronger than pain. The burning in his body gave way to gooseflesh from the cold. With no windows, the only way he could guess the time of day was by mealtimes. It must be evening. The fragrance was still there. Did the guard not notice? The scent pulled at him, but he couldn’t place it. At the least, it took his attention off his raw back.

He cradled his head between the wall and his raised arm as he’d done for the last, what…fortnight? Longer? He’d lost track of time. As soon as he closed his eyes, the dreams would likely return. Maybe this time they’d tell him who he was.

* * *

Anna hid behind a statue and waited until the guard left the room. He was alone. The man he’d tortured was still inside. Alive? Dead? He’d closed the door, so she couldn’t see. The guard had to be eliminated. She didn’t know exactly who or what he was, but he was evil. He reeked of darkness and greed.

Her talisman wouldn’t work if he was a vampire. So she stepped out from behind the statue, raised her dagger, and let it fly. The guard turned at that moment, and the blade caught him in the shoulder instead of the heart. He let out a terrible roar, and Anna started toward him to finish him off.

“Stop,” a man ordered behind her, and a gun dug into the back of her skull.