At least the hex magic inside her seemed totally gone. Not that it mattered anymore.

They reached St. Catherine's. The ghost warriors who guarded the door had already heard about Ellen. They removed their various period headgear and stood silently by as the solemn group entered. Jack and Will carried her up through the nave and into a side chapel where they laid her on the altar like a corpse on a bier.

Ellen lay, still and cold, wearing the mute evidence of battle—scrapes and smudges on her face and arms. Mercedes ran her capable hands over Ellen's body. They stopped just above her waist. “Ah. Here we go. That's where it went in.”

Jack stood at the head of the altar, holding Ellen's hand and speaking to her in a low voice. Will and Fitch lingered in the entry of the chapel so they weren't in the way as Mercedes bent over Ellen.

“Mercedes,” Madison said diffidently, touching her arm. “Maybe I can do something.”

The healer glanced up in surprise, hesitated, then stepped back. “Be my guest, girl.”

Here it is, Madison thought. A tiny gesture to set against a huge betrayal.

She slid her hands under Ellen's jacket, pressed the tips of her fingers into Ellen's skin, and felt the malevolent heat of the curse. Madison drew on it, sucking the dark magic into the hollow that always existed inside of her. It was a small curse next to Leicester's, but deadly all the same.

Ellen's body went rigid, bucking under Madison's hands. She cried out and her eyelids fluttered. When Madison could no longer feel the heat beneath her fingers, she drew her hands back and shrugged.

Ellen's face was shiny with sweat, contorted in pain. She lay restlessly now, moaning, taking quick, shallow breaths. Her helmet of hair shone in the light from the candles that stood in tall sconces to either side.

“She's fighting now,” the sorcerer said, looking more hopeful than before. “That's good.”

“Madison. Let's go downstairs,” Seph said, turning away abruptly.

They paused at the top of the narrow stairway so that Seph could disable the magical traps that he'd put in place. Then they descended the uneven steps to the crypt.

Seph kindled a row of tall, beeswax candles that had replaced the electric lights. Electricity came fitfully from a generator, now, and it was a precious commodity. The flames flickered in the draft from the stairwell, alternately concealing and revealing the names on the occupied crypts.

In contrast to the dimly lit corridor, the niche at the end of the row was brightly illuminated. A hunched figure sat on the floor next to it, wrapped in a shawl, seeming asleep.

“Nick?” Seph whispered.

The old man raised his head at their approach. Madison was stunned at how much—and how badly—Nick had aged in the time she'd been gone. He'd morphed from a vibrant old man of indeterminate age to someone who looked like he'd outlived the most ancient of the patriarchs.

Still. Why was he here, and not out on the battlefield?

“Ah.” Nick nodded, as if they were expected. “You've come.”

Seph looked a little confused himself. “Um. Ellen, Jack, and the others are upstairs. Ellen's hurt. Madison came to see if she could do something with the Dragonheart.”

“Yes. Of course.” Nick smiled, as if Madison were the answer to a prayer. “My dear, I'm so glad you're here.”

But Seph still hesitated. “Nick? You all right?”

Snowbeard closed his eyes, as if too weary to hold them open. “Yes. I believe all will be well, now that you've come.”

Maybe the old man was losing it. Madison glanced at Seph, then back at Nick, receiving no guidance from either. “Okay, then. I guess I'll just see.”

Cautiously, she approached the niche. Who knew what the rules were here? Slitting her eyes against the light, she stepped inside.

The stone was brighter, more alive than when she'd last seen it. Flame and color swirled beneath its crystalline surface, casting moving shadows on the walls, so she had the feeling of floating underwater. It was very much like standing next to a hot coal stove. Only, there was something else, something beyond heat, some other challenge to be met. It brushed her consciousness like a feather, a certain … skepticism. She extended her hand, then jerked it back when someone spoke.

“Careful,” Seph said from the doorway. “It blistered my hand when I tried to touch it.”

Madison swallowed hard. She wrapped her jacket around her hand and extended it again, gritting her teeth, half expecting to be flamed alive. A weapon, they called it, more powerful than any ever seen before. She dropped the jacket over the stone, slid her hands underneath, wrapped the cloth around it, and lifted it from its stand like it was an egg that might break.

Nothing happened, except she felt dizzy and overheated, confused and conflicted. A voice whispered in her head, but it was too faint to make out the words. At least the stone didn't explode.

She turned toward Seph, who stood watching her, a puzzled frown on his face. “So?” he said. “Anything?”

“Maybe,” she said, swaying a little. Somehow, she needed to get the stone out of the church. “Only…I'm a little woozy. I need to get out into the air.”

Madison pushed past him, protecting the stone with her body. As she emerged from the niche, Nick looked up from his seat on the floor. “Unwrap the stone, Madison,” he said sharply. “Take it in your hands.”

“Y'all just wait here. I'll be back in a minute.” She stumbled for the stairs, thrusting the jacket with the Dragonheart into her backpack.

“Madison!” She was nearly at the top of the stairs when she heard Seph's quick footsteps behind her; she put on speed. To the landing, through the door, and out into the sanctuary. Past the side chapel where Will and Fitch hovered in the entryway, their pale, startled faces turned toward her. She heard Seph behind her and broke into a flat-out run up the aisle. There was no way she'd outrun those long legs from dead even, but his confusion had given her a head start.

She clutched the backpack close, worried about jostling it, and reached the double doors at the front thirty feet ahead of Seph. Then ran smack into Jack Swift, which was a lot like running into a brick wall.

“Hey!” He took hold of her shoulders to keep her from bouncing back onto her rear. “Madison? What happened? Where're you going in such a hurry?”

She tried to twist free and slip past him, but Seph shouted, “Grab her, Jack!” and then it should have been hopeless, but she kneed Jack hard, like Carlene had taught her, and he was so startled he let go. But he was still blocking the door.

She ran down the side aisle. It dead-ended into a small chapel. But there were stairs leading up, so she climbed them, knowing she was probably heading into another blind alley. They let out onto the balcony, and she ran across, hoping to slip down the other side. She met Seph coming up, and Jack was behind her, so she ran to the railing and dangled the backpack over the stone floor of the sanctuary far below.

Seph came from the right, Jack from the left.

“You get back or I'll drop it,” she warned, giving the backpack a shake.

“Madison?” Seph halted a few feet away, his dark brows drawn together. “What's going on? What are you doing?”

“I need the Dragonheart,” she said. “Go away and leave me be.”

“Don't drop it,” Seph said soothingly. “It might break. Or explode.” He resumed his careful approach.

Madison seized the top rail and climbed over, clinging to the outside. “You come near me, I'll jump. I mean it. I don't care what happens to me.”

Jack and Seph both halted again. “Does this have to do with the Roses?” Seph asked, reaching for some explanation for her bizarre behavior. “Do you think you can buy them off with the Dragonheart?”

“You can't give it to them,” Jack put in. “You can't trust them. They'll kill us.”

“It's not about the Roses.” She couldn't seem to control her breathing. It came in great, shuddering gasps.

“Then what's this all about?” Seph asked, clearly clueless.

“It's…it's about Grace and John Robert. Warren Barber has them. He'll kill them if I don't bring him the Dragonheart.”

Understanding flooded into Seph's face. “Maddie. I'm so sorry.”

“Well, sorry won't do any good. I am not going to lose them, do you hear me?”

“You can't give Barber the Dragonheart. You must know that.”

“I'm going to do whatever it takes to get them back.”

“That won't get them back. Please, Maddie. Let us try to help.”

“You have a whole town to save. And all the underguilds. Grace and J.R. can't be your priorities. But they're mine.”

And, somehow, Jack leaped across the space between them and tried to grab hold of her backpack. She let go of the railing and clutched the backpack to her, and she was falling, and then Seph's hot hands grabbed her wrists and yanked her up over the railing with inhuman strength, and they were all three rolling on the floor, fighting for the backpack. Jack or Seph or someone nearly wrestled it away, but she got the backpack half unzipped and plunged her hand inside, groping for the stone, knowing it was now or never.

The jacket slid away, and she felt its smooth surface under her fingers. She pulled it out, clutched it to her chest, and backed away, vaguely aware of the staircase behind her. “I'm warning you. Stay away.”

They came at her from two directions, the sound of their breathing competing with the drumbeat of her heart. Something exploded just outside. The building shuddered, plaster cracking and sifting down from the ceiling, the great chandeliers swaying uneasily.

She turned and leaped down the stairs, rammed into the wall at the turning, and fell down the last few steps. She sprawled out onto the floor of the sanctuary, curling herself around the stone to protect it. She lay on her back unable to move. The stone between her hands flared and pulsed, the light penetrating skin and flesh, revealing the bones beneath like the Visible Woman in the science lab back home.