The archaic door groaned open. Stairs continued down, further underground. Sconces glowed atop cast-iron skulls, with brass rays splayed in rectangular sunburst motifs around them. Candlelight rippled across the rugged stone walls, dissolving all sense of time.

At the bottom of the stairwell, an antechamber curved around four bronze statues. The abstract figures stood back to back, facing the four directions. Their androgynous human bodies were identical, nude and chiseled into blunt proportions. Three bore heads of animals--eagle, wolf, and stag. Each held an orb of solid onyx, carved with the Pruessian runes for beauty, joy, will, and wisdom, the Virtues of The Order.

A draft fluttered through the gauzy veils concealing the opposite door. Hooded guards kept vigil beside it, their shadows long and menacing in the backlight.

"What's your name, Seeker?" asked the tallest guard, scowling behind his skull mask.

I pressed my fingers to his, giving the secret gesture. "Senever."

Several people nearby gasped and looked at me. Both guards bowed.

"Our guest of honor," the tall guard said, sweeping his cloak aside. The chains and bone ornaments around his neck clattered. "Lord Levay wants to meet you. Cyrilio, he wishes an audience with you as well."

Mr. Gable and Reuben exchanged a peculiar glance.

"Of course," Mr. Gable said. "Lead on, friend."

The Nether Sanctum unfolded like the shell of an exotic oyster, a shimmering expanse of decadence and devilry. Skulls were everywhere, both real and represented, mounted upon the pillars and walls, carved into the backs of contoured leisure chairs, set into discreet nooks and displays. Shadowy sockets watched, their teeth bared to mock the living. Unlike the dark halls where Lady Selketh conducted her structured rites, the morbid and the modern blended here. It was more like a nightclub than the sanctuary of an obscure shamanic cult. Terraces rose gently around a stage platform at the center of the room. The silver and pearl decor brought to mind the opulence of Silvring Hall, and for a moment, I missed my home.

People congregated among the tables and cushioned booths, with cigarettes and glasses of liquor in their hands. Anxious voices and eyes followed us as we approached a secluded alcove in the far corner. Feminine laughter rattled through the buzz of conversation. Ghoulish faces turned and stared. The small crowd parted like curtains before a momentous performance, revealing the peppered countenance of Levay, Lord of the Amerixcan Circles.

He was one of the murderers of my great-grandfather. I pictured my Olfar being drowned and poisoned in Asulma before this man's hooked scrutiny. I clenched my fists, and my spirit-form growled, hungry to tear out his throat. Not yet, I told myself. We wait for Mother's call.

Levay didn't wear a mask. Instead, his sagging features were smudged black in the hollows of his eyes and cheekbones, creating a wraith-like visage. His overripe lips drew into a pout, and he folded his hands across the table, thumbs fidgeting.

"At last, my most distinguished Seekers," he said, voice nasal and stretched thin like his oily gray comb-over. He pointed to the chairs beside him. "Come, sit with me. I've got the best view in the house."

"Of course you do, my Lord." Mr. Gable shook Levay's hand. "I always reserve the finest spot for you."

Levay's entourage dispersed as we took our places, leaving us alone with him. At least a hundred people filled the Nether Sanctum, now. Once all were in, a quartet of musicians took their seats in the bandstand. Upright bass, a violin, a piano, and a bandoneon rolled into a tango, the lavish Switzertine rhythms so popular among the Circles. A few couples sauntered to the dance floor, but most watched the side entrances, eager for the service to begin.

"I'm looking forward to your excellent program as always, Noble Steward," Levay said, the ice in his highball glass clinking as he tipped a swig. "I assume the feast is imminent. I'm starved enough to scrape the bones in here for marrow."

"Any minute now." Mr. Gable inclined his head, the long nose of his mask dipping. He waved a hand at me. "My Lord, I'm pleased to present our Circle's newest seer and Seeker."

"Yes, yes, I know. Senever...it is indeed a pleasure. Welcome to my humble Circle. I do hope you aren't disappointed." Levay sneered. His teeth were long and yellow like those of the skull centerpiece on the table. He shook my hand, muddy eyes assessing. The pallid chill of his fingers startled me.

"Quite the contrary, my Lord," I said, keeping my voice smooth.

Levay chuckled, and rubbed his palms together. "Make yourself comfortable. We'll show you how we honor the Guardians in Amerixcan style."

Mr. Gable cleared his throat. "My Lord, I was told you wished an audience with me."

"I wished firstly to thank you for the wondrous hospitality tonight," Levay said.

"You're most welcome." Mr. Gable's grin spilled exaggerated gratitude. "The Hexer's Night gathering is my favorite tradition."

"GMG never disappoints. Your loyalty to the Inner Quorum is unparalleled." Levay set his drink down. "But there's something else I require."

"Of course, my Lord." Mr. Gable's shoulders formed a tense square beside Levay's foppish droop. "How may I serve you?"

"Selketh has been difficult to reach lately," Levay said. "In fact, I believe she's avoiding my calls. I must meet with her regarding an important matter. As you're a member of her Quorum, Cyrilio, would you be so kind as to relay my message?"

"Without question," said Mr. Gable. His eyes flicked once in my direction, a quiet warning. Stay silent and wary.

I needed no guidance to play this game. Levay had the condescension of a Celestine Duke, though I doubted he was an aristocrat. More like a simpering toddler. He possessed some level of esoteric talent. I sensed it in the warbled bloat of his power. Nowhere as potent as the feathery strike of Mother's power, or the creep and strangle of Uncle Holten's, Levay's power flailed through the unseen realms. How fun it would be to snarl him into a sputtering knot in the Otherworld. I considered trying it.

The electric lights dimmed across the room. Robotic footsteps approached, many actuators whirring. Scores of custodian units and attendant hover-bots emerged from the service doors. Their trays and platters were filled with appetizers, salads, and bottles of wine. My stomach grumbled.

Levay laughed, and laid his hand on my shoulder. "Here comes the most important part of Hexer's Night, Senever. Eating."

"Yes..." I forced myself to grin, though it was more a baring of fangs. How dare he touch me?

Levay's power finally focused, teasing through his fingers, trying to seep into me and establish a link of influence. It was one of the first techniques Mother had taught me. Luckily, Mother had also taught me to counter such petty attempts at manipulation. When the robots delivered our food, I swept one hand in a subtle circle as I reached for my plate, encompassing Levay in my etheric grasp. He showed no sign of noticing my ward. The trap was set, and I could spring it anytime I chose. I rested my fingers on the hilt of my athame, which I wore hidden at my belt. Something had prompted me to bring it tonight, for protection and strength of spirit. I was glad for it now, and drew upon its power.

The music paused, the crowd falling to an expectant hush. The stage platform was shaped like a cross, three ends with stairs leading up, and one extending from a curtained entrance along the most prominent wall. Around this entrance, the molded jaws of a skull formed a doorframe of sorts. The curtains hanging from its gaping mouth stirred, and a spotlight appeared. The music slinked, piano and bass leading. Violin and bandoneon seduced all in rhythm. Women covered head to toe in form-fitting black formed a semicircle onstage. Seven altogether, their faces were concealed behind veils. They knelt, heads and arms thrown back.

A familiar dry clack and wail began. Three more women climbed the other points of the stage, playing the bone flute and percussion of Knoseidtru. They wore elaborate skull and feather masks representing the bestial Guardians, and only the barest of bone-mesh garments over their breasts and hips. Ancient and contemporary sounds blended together, distracting me from dinner.

The floor at the center of the stage slid open, and a peculiar procession slowly rose from beneath. Pallbearers, carrying an enormous black coffin. Their entire bodies were covered with gauzy black shrouds, concealing them from view. They carried the coffin past the Guardians, and set it before the row of mysterious kneeling women.

Reuben elbowed me. "This is Hella, Levay's famous seer," he whispered. "Rumor has it she's a Pruessian defector."

I set my silverware down, riveted to the performance like everyone else. The pallbearers opened the coffin. Red velvet lined the lid, the brass accents glinting. All lights faded, and the spotlight switched to a lurid ultraviolet. Designs once invisible in the performers' costumes flared into view, strips of reflective material creating the illusion of skeletons in the new glow.

The pallbearers joined the seven obscured women in a reverent bow. The music swelled to a primitive, dissonant wail. A female leg lifted out of the coffin and flexed in time, toe pointed in dramatic grace. As the instruments clamored, four extensions of bone unfolded into a sharp fan of elongated fingers. They twirled and caressed the edge of the coffin, followed by the other hand. In a surreal drift of alabaster skin and unbound hair, a woman sat up, reaching skyward as if she implored the divine for mercy.

A shudder raced through me, and my ears rang a moment. The shrill strains of Knoseidtru quickened my Sight, murky images flashing through my mind. A voice from my dreams whispered, edged with childish fright.

"It's all red."

With a snap of her head, the woman crossed her spindly fingers over her face. Partially covered by a jeweled skull mask, half of her features were youthful and alive, the other half a veneer of shining death. She wore only a thin mantle of bone-mesh over her nude, slender curves, and an arced headdress decked with small bones and intricate dangling ornaments.

Hella...I recognized the name from Mother's teachings of lore--the ancient Pruessian goddess of the lands of the dead. Legend said her body was split, part beautiful young woman, and part a rotting corpse. She slithered out of the coffin, two of the pallbearers taking her hands to assist her.

The music kept a languid tempo to her dance, the sensual trails of her head and fingers, hips and arms swaying. I'd never seen such long hair before, white as a freshly scraped bone, cascading to her ankles in flawless waves. The skeletal maidens whirled around Hella, mimicking and accenting her movements.

Hella's one exposed eye searched the audience, startling blue. My Sight fluctuated again. In the Otherworld, my hands shifted in erratic patterns, wolfish claws and fur swirling into human form. The eyes I'd seem in nightmares opened in the center of my palms, and tears of blood spilled from them, trickling in spider trails of crimson down my arms. Power surged through me, an all-consuming heat, almost as if someone or something pulled it from me. I leaned back in my chair with a gasp, gripping the edge of the table.

Mr. Gable, Reuben, and Levay all watched me with curious expressions.

"Hey, are you alright?" Reuben asked.

"I need to visit the lavatory. Please excuse me a moment, my Lord." I inclined my head toward Levay, and pulled myself upright.

Hella froze onstage. Her cold gaze finally settled upon me, and with it a rain of power more intense than any I'd known. Another voice cut into my mind, light and fleeting as a glimpse of moonlight.

"Jeg zanye sie..." Pruessian words which I didn't understand. A woman's laughter rang inside my skull, and I knew it was hers. She pried into my head, peeling at my recesses with etheric talons.

Before she could meddle any further, I hurried out of the room, and found the lavatory. After splashing cold water onto my face, I crouched over the sink and tried to catch my breath. Again, my Sight overwhelmed me. A vision stole my awareness, and I leaned against the wall for support.

I plummeted like a stone through blackened depths, and tumbled onto my beach in the Otherworld. Waves crashed, stained red with blood as I'd seen so many times before. A child's cries drew my eyes further up the shore. A young woman huddled on the ground, hugging a small girl.

My bare toes sank into the sand, my footprints filling with blood. Lightning cracked overhead, but no thunder answered. A heavy silence pushed at my ears. Bloody rain pattered across the landscape.

The young woman turned to me. Tamsin. Her lips moved, but I couldn't hear what she said. The child in her arms pointed to the sea.

I looked, and saw something floating a short distance offshore. A drenched figure was face down in the surf. Without hesitation, I waded out to investigate. It was a man's body, bobbing among the gore. My throat clenched. I reached for the corpse, and it turned over. The blue eyes staring heavenward were unmistakable.

A sob choked me. "Father!"

I dove toward him, but the vision shattered. My Sight retreated, and I fell back into the world of flesh. Shivering, my hands slid across the cool porcelain tiles of the wall as I tried to regain my senses. My breath and pulse formed a rapid cadence. What cruel omen was this? My father dead, Tamsin and the little girl who often tormented me in dreams drenched in the blood of an unseen reality...each vision was like a fragment of my journey. I'd glimpsed all of these things before, and they led me further, deeper each time.

I pulled myself together as best I could. There was no time to ponder it now. I needed all of my wits and strength to resist the obvious attempts to taunt me. Hella and Levay were determined to unsettle me. I'd teach them not to cross me. This was escalating to war on a front I'd never anticipated. With my new resolve firm in my mind, I returned to the main chamber of the Nether Sanctum.

Levay and the Gables had already finished eating, and Hella's performance was over. The room brightened somewhat as I reclaimed my seat. The half-eaten fare on my plate looked unappetizing now, and I handed it to the robotic busser.

Levay dabbed his mouth with a napkin, and studied me. "Are you unwell, Senever?"

"I'm fine, my Lord," I said, glad for the shield my devil mask provided. If I was still pale, it wouldn't show.

Mr. Gable answered a call on his wristcom. "Hello? You don't say. Don't they understand I'm busy at the moment? Yes, sir. I'll be right up. Don't tell them where I've been, or you'll find a convenient pink slip in your hand by morning." He disconnected with a sigh.

Reuben tapped an anxious finger against the tabletop. "Trouble upstairs, Dad?"

"Always. We leave for a while, and those idiots can't execute a proxy decision in our absence." Mr. Gable sighed, and pushed out of his chair. "I'll head over and take care of it. You can stay and enjoy the rest of the show."

Not long after Mr, Gable departed, another act took the stage. A farce of occult and comic proportions, a man and woman dressed in black mourning attire romped through various acrobatic displays, while constantly trying to outdo each other. It was the silly type of theater enjoyed by the common masses, with little to no substance. Watching actors hit each other over the head with oversized bone clubs bored me. Perhaps most of these Seekers were commoners after all. Reuben clapped and laughed, but I only yawned. My gut felt sour. I picked at a piece of bread, trying to quell the nausea. It helped a little, but the sense of foreboding never left me.

"I need to visit the lavatory now," Reuben said. He looked at Levay with a strange expression, then at me. "I'll return shortly."

Once we were alone, Levay pushed his dessert plate away, and took a long drink of his bright, fruity cocktail. "So, Senever, what do you think of our ceremonies?"

I grinned at the buffoons onstage. "Very amusing, my Lord."

"Amusing, yes." Levay's tone sidled like a plague. "And did you enjoy Hella?"

Her very name brought another shudder. I reached again for my athame, in case any remnants of her power still clung to me. "She's very talented. A fine burlesque act."

Levay chortled, the fingers of one hand tangled around the stem of his glass, his other hand slipping beneath the table. "Burlesque?' he said. "You underestimate far too much. I thought you'd be more clever, after what you've surely just experienced at Hella's grasp, and given that you're Kraelis' descendant. But then I remember your mother is also his kin, and I realize how much the Jasters have deteriorated over the generations."

I'd had enough of him. I projected my power through the ward I'd placed earlier, and tightened my will around him. This bastard deserved a thrashing across the realms. My abilities blazed after the vision I'd just had, and I summoned all of the gifts I possessed through my wolf Guardian. Fenvolvna.

As I breathed her name, Levay grabbed my knee beneath the table. His fingers pressed into my flesh like a barbed vise, all the way to the bone. His power seized hold. I tried to writhe free of him, but I couldn't move.

"Let go," I said through clenched teeth.

Levay's chuckle sliced. "Hm. Your talents are strong. I sense your potential, but you assume more than you're capable of. And such inflated self-confidence. Selketh was too hasty in initiating you. In time, with training, you'll be of use to us. But you're just a feeble child."

My Sight boiled into awareness again. Blinking images of Father's lifeless face, Tamsin and the little girl soaked in blood, the child's forlorn weeping. I tried to fight Levay again, but my power collapsed against his. How wrong I'd been in judging him a weak fool. He was right, I assumed too much. Sweat formed on my skin, etheric influence smothering me on all sides. Levay was no bumbling poser, but obviously a master hiding behind a well-maintained facade.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"Much." He relaxed his grip on my knee somewhat, and ran his hand up my leg. "Give yourself to me, to the Inner Quorum, and we'll show you the true ways of power. Your mother's pathetic tricks are nothing compared to ours." His caress sneaked its way toward my groin, and into every secret part of my being.

The urge to retch caught in my throat, churning my gut. I was still paralyzed at his whim, though my mind protested his advance.

I cried for aid in the Otherworld, crippled at every turn. Fenvolvna, Olfar, Duke, most blessed ancestors...help me.

Reuben returned right as Levay's cloying touch grazed my fly.

Levay withdrew, and I was able to move again.

I scrambled out of my chair, as far from him as I could. "I want to leave," I told Reuben. "Now."

"Oh?" Reuben frowned at Levay. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm feeling ill," I said.

Levay grinned. "I'm sorry to hear that, dear Senever. Elifas, there's a sofa backstage near Hella's dressing rooms. Please escort our newest young seer there to rest."

"No." I grabbed Reuben's arm. "I'd like to go back upstairs. Back to the limo. Out of this place."

Reuben nodded. "Sure. Come on, I'll help you. I apologize for the sudden change of plans, my Lord."

"It's quite alright." Levay shrugged. "We'll surely have more time to socialize at the next gathering."

I didn't bow, say farewell, or show any further respect. Levay's power lingered upon me a good while. Halfway up the stairs, I collapsed to my knees and vomited. The last remnants of unwelcome influence heaved out of my body, leaving me breathless.

Worry quavered in Reuben's voice. "By the Guardians, what did Lord Levay do to you?"

I stumbled to my feet and wiped my lips on the handkerchief Reuben offered. "He did me a favor, though a strange one," I said. "He showed me the reality of things, and how mistaken I've been all this time."

With a confused scowl, Reuben slipped an arm around my shoulders and helped me climb back to the everyday world.