out her arms and legs, steadied her breathing. No one else in the circle moved. They all watched the doctor and Alexa. And waited.
The healer unfolded a fur on a wide padded stone bench near a fluted pillar and murmured something soft and lilting. She picked up a bundle and proceeded straight across the room. To an altar.
Alexa looked wildly around. Everyone had sharp weapons. A fist of dread squeezed her stomach. Surely they weren’t going to sacrifice a living thing. She couldn’t stand that. She’d have to stop it—somehow.
She hoped it wasn’t a dog. She would totally freak if it was a dog.
Breath strangled in her throat. What if they were going to sacrifice her?
The doctor stepped into the light cast by the chandeliers’ wheels and Alexa saw it was worse than a dog.
It was a baby.
Face impassive, eyes hooded, the healer showed the naked infant to Alexa. It was a little girl of about one year old. Short black-and-silver hair was ruffled into tufts. The little one grinned at Alexa.
She moved to block the way to the altar.
The doctor glided across the room in front of Alexa to a square of blue polished marble.
Alexa didn’t see the pool until the baby splashed into it.
2
Alexa had thought the dark pool was a slab of polished blue marble. Horror ripped through her as she ran to save the child.
There were six steps down. She slipped on the first and toppled into the pool, dog-paddling to keep her head up.
It wasn’t water, but thick, like syrup. The liquid sliced fire into a raw blister on her foot, burned the tender quick of a fingernail she’d broken that morning. The pain in the cuts was bad, but worse on her scraped face, and now she felt scratches on her torso from the beast. The fluid even affected her bruises. Every ache seemed to be an open wound eaten by acid. It crawled from the edge of a bruise to burn hotter as it reached the center of the hurt. Alexa’s breath came in anguished gasps. Her mind reeled.
She saw the little girl near the bottom of the far side of the pool. Alexa plunged into the liquid to reach the child, in too much pain to even prepare herself with a deep breath.
The fluid closed over her head. Tensing, she opened her eyes. And saw perfectly. She dove for the baby and grabbed her, pulled her from the pool. Staggered out.
A scream rose from her throat at the sight of the limp little body. She didn’t know what to do. She looked at the doctor. Though tears ran down the woman’s face, she stood with folded hands.
Alexa shifted from foot to foot in endless agony for a few seconds before wiping the baby’s eyes, then pushed her finger into the girl’s mouth, checking for obstructions, feeling if the child’s tongue blocked the air passage.
She turned the baby over, grabbed hard when the infant slipped. Alexa patted her back. Thumped a little harder. Nothing.
Alexa cradled the baby and whirled to the people who stood on the other side of the room. She thought she cried, What kind of fiends are you to do this! But what came from her mouth was, “Shit. SHIT!”
Her frantic gaze scanned the room. The hole to Colorado was gone, though that wouldn’t have done much good.
She didn’t know where the door to the room was, what was outside, or if there were other people. The baby’s only hope was those who’d already harmed her. So Alexa tried once more.
“Help!” she screamed. “Help her!”
A second later the doctor tore the child from her grasp. Alexa slipped and hit the floor hard. Again.
The healer pressed the infant to her breast and crooned a spell. Pulsing green light bathed them. An instant later the baby coughed, then screeched.
Alexa had never heard anything so sweet in her life, but she wondered what was going on. What were their intentions?
Growling drowned out the baby’s cries. A man with a raised knife flashing in the dim light hurled himself at Alexa. She cringed and rolled, muscles protesting in new agony. Mad fury slammed into her, from him, her attacker. Again she fought to get her breath. She rolled, couldn’t make it to her feet, was stranded on her back. He snarled, angling the knife.
His face twisted. In his eyes she saw revulsion, bone-deep hatred because she was different. Never to be trusted. Only to be slain.
She flung up her arms. Her soaked clothes constricted. Liquid trickled onto her skin and stung. The room spun, and a sea of emotions from everyone inundated her. Something in her mind broke free.
Her cry matched his. A weapon flew into her open hand. Unnecessary. With fear and panic, with her mind, she slammed her assailant across the room. She heard him hit the wall with a thud, then slither to the floor.
Oh God! Oh God, she’d hurt a man using her will alone!
She lurched to her knees, planted a foot, then another, and rocked to her feet. A couple of women moved to the still man, one wailing. Everyone else watched her.
Alexa bared her teeth at them. She’d never done such a thing in her life, but she now acted totally on instinct. This night was beyond belief. Beyond anything she’d ever imagined.
That she might have killed a man with the sheer force of her mind shattered the last rational belief she’d ever held. Nothing was the same. Nothing was right. Nothing was reasonable. Only primal intuition could save her.
She hefted the weight in her hand, considered what she held. It was a stick about two feet long and three inches thick, made of something like ivory and capped at each end with gold. One end was pointed, the other straight. Carved figures of knights fighting monsters covered the staff. It looked far too big to be a wand, but she’d bet anything that it was a magical tool. She slid it through her hands, enjoying the texture, though she sensed a nasty tingle of energy. Finding a button, she pressed it. A little brass hook with a blunt end popped from the side, as if it was there to hang the stick from a belt loop.
A shout attracted her attention. When she looked up, everyone was staring at her, as always.
Alexa raised the short staff.
The smallest man opened his mouth and began a chant. His melodious voice was the richest she’d ever heard, set in a soothing cadence. The others joined in, and though the music didn’t sound the same here in the round church of wherever, Alexa knew it was that which had drawn her to this dreadful place. She could almost see the small man’s voice as the stream of yellow in the rainbow that had compelled her into the arch. The big, mean guy’s voice was jerky with some emotion, and his intentions didn’t quite match the others, but Alexa felt he was the bright red, fluctuating band. The angular lady was indigo.
As he sang, the small man gestured, and the others slid their swords into sheaths. The leader’s staff burned with a yellow flame at the tip. He set it aside and it stood by itself.
Alexa blinked. She was too exhausted and wrung out to goggle. The indigo woman stepped forward, raising her hands to her shoulders, palms outward. Another gesture Alexa understood.
She
