In most cases, all that’s required to undermine a ward is to break its continuity, to interrupt the design and short-circuit the flow of energy it generates. Sometimes, if you break one badly, you turn it into something else, but I didn’t know that then and my luck held that day.

Although I could deface the wards on the door, I could do nothing about the repelling runes carved into it and into the wood of the threshold. Each sidhe-seer that stepped across it had to face her personal demons.

They all made it, I was proud to see.

I left them in the library, dozens of sets of willing hands carefully turning ancient pages, delicately unwinding thick scrolls, picking up statues and opening boxes and looking for anything we could use.

Dani and I moved on to the next library. Gaining access wasn’t as easy this time. Again there were multiple ward barriers, but each was of increasing density and intensity. I passed through the first ward with relative ease, the second with a grunt. The third generated a small shock and made my hair crackle. I marked each one with a lipstick from my pocket as I passed through, so Dani could follow me.

The fourth had me gritting my teeth, cursing whoever had placed these ancient designs. Rowena? I wanted to learn.

I made the mistake of trying to barge through the fifth to get the discomfort over with quickly and slammed into it like a brick wall. I bounced off and went sprawling.

Dani snickered.

I tossed my hair from my eyes and glared up at her.

“Dude. Happens to me all the time.”

I stood and warily approached the ward line. It wasn’t a simple ward line. There were layers of wards, shimmering, one on top of another. To date, the only wards I’d seen were silvery delicate-looking things.

These wards had a bluish tint, sharper lines, and more-complex shapes. Now that I was paying careful attention, I could feel the slight chill they threw off. The pages in the Book of Kells had nothing on the intricacy of these designs. Knots became fantastical creatures, morphed into incomprehensible mathematical equations and then back into knots again. I knew nothing of wards. Where was Barrons when I needed him?

I spent ten minutes trying to get through it. If I ran at it, it bounced me off. If I tried to press slowly forward, it simply didn’t yield, as if there genuinely was a wall there that I just couldn’t see.

“Try blood,” Dani suggested.

I looked at her. “Why?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes when Ro needs fierce wicked mojo, she uses blood. Some of the wards we placed around your cell had my blood in ‘em. I figure since you can cross most of ‘em, your blood might do something. If not, you can try mine.”

“What do I do with it?”

“Dunno. Drip some on the wards.”

After a moment’s consideration, I decided it couldn’t hurt. (The day would come when I would discover I was wrong about that. Adding blood to some wards is even more stupid than throwing gas on a fire and, in some cases, actually transmutes them into living guardians. Take it from me, never indiscriminately drip your blood on wards of unknown origin!) I reached into my boot for my switchblade. “Stay back, in case something goes wrong,” I told her.

I held out my hand, palm up, as close to the ward barrier as I could get without being repelled, and made a shallow slice. Ow.

Blood welled.

I turned my hand over to drip it on the floor.

Nothing dripped. I turned my hand back over. There was no wound.

I sliced my palm again, this time more deeply. “Ow!” Blood welled. I turned it over. Nothing dripped. I frowned. Shook it. Squeezed my hand into a fist.

“What’cha doin’, Mac?”

“Hang on a sec.” I turned my hand back over. There was no cut.

Setting my jaw, I turned my palm to the floor, kept it down, and sliced fast, hard, and deep. Blood dripped. Good for me. It stopped. I sliced again, deeper. It dripped again, and a thin rivulet ran into the edge of the symbols.

The designs hissed, shivered on the stone floor, and steamed, before eroding where my blood had touched them.

I was able to step across the barrier, although not without difficulty.

“Come on, Dani.” We weren’t through the storm yet. I could feel things up ahead.

Worse things.

There was no reply.

I turned around. There was a stone wall behind me. “Dani?” I called. “Dani, can you hear me?”

You are not permitted here. You are not one of us.

I whirled back around. A woman stood in the corridor, blocking my way. She was blond, beautiful, with icy eyes.

“Who are you?” I demanded.