Three AM arrived like rain at a wedding, unwanted and foretelling. I was nursing an anxious knot in my stomach as Vincent and I made our way to Trinity Church. It wasn't just the thought of another visit to the vault that had me worried, I could not stop thinking about the incident before the blow job. Vincent said something had triggered his aggression, but he might as well have said disgust or hate. I wanted to blame the freaky magic, but my head kept taking me down darker paths.

Outside the church, we met up with Colin and Claudette. They introduced me to Glade, who I expected to be a wizened old woman with gray hair and half-moon spectacles. But she wasn't old at all. Probably no older than me, with purple highlights tipping her cropped, bleached hair and ear gauges the size of quarters. I fell under her scrutiny right away.

"You carry the magic," she said accusingly. "How do you feel? More powerful? Less powerful? Are you ill?"

"Other than a little nervous about this trip underground, I feel fine."

"Have you tested the mantra? Can you still produce the flame?" Glade spoke quickly as we walked through the church to the back, guided by a man I assumed to be the bishop. He wore a robe but no fancy head gear, probably because it was three in the damned morning.

"I haven't produced the flame since the last time I was here a few weeks ago. Do you think I should practice first?"

"I think you'll be surprised by it," she said with a deadpan expression. "The magic on you is strong enough to fly us to the moon."

I glanced again at the clergyman ahead of us. Surely, he could hear the conversation. Was he scared out of his wits? I was.

"Don't worry, Reese," Colin said, reminding me he was among our party. "We've got your back. This'll be a piece of cake."

"That has to be the famous last words of some baker whose oven blew up right after his grand opening." I offered him a weak smile, and he tried to reassure me by chuckling at my morbid humor.

"Vincent, what have you noticed different about Reese lately?" Glade asked, still keeping me under her careful surveillance.

"She's been running hot to the touch even when she says she's fine and the thermometer tells us the same. Our kisses burn. And other amorous activities have become...uncomfortable. I can take a lot of pain, but this..."

We arrived at the font, and Vincent excused himself to speak with the bishop in private. He seemed glad to end the conversation, but this gave Glade the opportunity to dissect me even further.

"You're fighting him with fire," she said plainly. "These fevers are a manifestation of your inherited survival response. The magic has attached to your demon aspects and amplified them. You can't feel it because it has always been a part of you."

I blinked a few times and glanced over at Colin and Claudette, who both responded with a confused shoulder shrug. "Are you saying my body is trying to hurt Vincent without my consent?" I said.

"Yes. Necromantic magic focuses on the manipulation of external forces. There are many ways it can manifest. It is using your gift of the eternal flame and turning it into a weapon."

"How can I stop it?"

"You can't. Not by yourself. That's why we're here." She pointed at the font, which held a small statue of a saint holding a basket of wheat. I still didn't know which saint it was.

Vincent returned, minus the bishop. "We're good to go. How are you feeling, Reese?"

"I'm ready to get this thing over with."

Glade produced a pair of yellow rubber gloves and held them out to me. They looked like regular household gloves. "These are just household gloves, but I've blessed them enough times to protect you until the next ice age. Wear them when you pick up the book. They should keep the bad juju off you."

So, she had a sense of humor. A morbid one, like mine, but it reassured me just the same. I didn't trust people without a sense of humor. "The last time I entered the vault, I kept the flames burning in my palms. With the gloves on, I won't be able to do that. What if the door shuts when the flames go out?"

"Are you sure the flame is what kept the vault open? Were there no matching flames anywhere else? Inside the vault, maybe? In a sconce?"

"The saint's wheat caught fire on the font. It sparked from the flames in my hand."

"Okay, then. You should not need to maintain the flames. As long as he's lit, you're good to go."

Glade sounded so sure of herself, I probably would have believed anything she said. So, I went with that thought, pushing all the unhelpful scenarios to the back of my brain, including the walking dead breaking through the walls to eat my flesh. I stuck the gloves in my back pocket and nodded my readiness.

Vincent stood with me as I stepped in front of the font and recited the mantra. Voco proferebat flammam. Ego sum unus cum flamma. The words came to me easily, like a favorite nursery rhyme. How many times had I recited it as a child? I hated not having those memories to pull from.

It only took one try and a pair of fireballs manifested inside my palms. They flickered brightly, nearly overpowering the soft light of the church, and I wasted no time igniting the wheat in the saint's basket. An earthly groan vibrated beneath my feet as the floor yawned open, spreading gradually wider.

Dust billowed from the gap, leaving the air thick with ancient debris, and I held my breath as I walked to the staircase descending into darkness. Colin and Claudette stood together, their mouths wide with shock. They held each other's hands, their fingers tightly entwined, although I didn't think they realized it.

"Are you ready, Reese?" Vincent's voice called me back to my purpose, and I nodded at him, hoping I didn't look as frightened as I felt. "Get in, get the book, and get out."

"Roger that, chief." I took the first step, still holding the fireballs in my hands, just in case Glade was mistaken. When the stair lit up in response to my touch, I released a long breath. Then I proceeded forward, letting each foot trigger more light, but the fireballs were doing a good job of illuminating the room beyond, and I continued my downward climb into the vault until the robed saint greeted me.

I immediately remembered Christoph's comment about the necromancer, and the sight of the hooked nose, even in stone, gave me the shivers. I glanced at the table, and there sat the book in the center of the other artifacts. Nothing had been disturbed since my last visit, although I would have been worried if they had.

Angry shouts echoed from the top of the stairs, and I heard Colin yell at Glade to duck. This was immediately followed by a loud – Crack! – and a gust of wind blew into the vault from the opening. Something shot past me like a spear and smacked into the wall, exploding into a billow of thick, black smoke. I backed up to the bottom stair as the smoke quickly coalesced into the form of a robed figure.

"Reese! Are you alright?"

Vincent's voice boomed at me amid the chaos, and I probably should have answered him. But my body was paralyzed as I watched a man materialize out of the smoke. Although he wore his hood, I could still see his face. He had a prominent nose, just like the statue, but he wore square sunglasses that sat on the bridge.

"Dmitry."

His name left my lips on a whisper, so no one could hear me. But even if I had shouted, my voice would have been lost amid the screeches that echoed down the staircase. It sounded like a battle was raging inside the church. All I could do was pray for Vincent to stay safe because I had my own shit to deal with, and my gaze never left Dmitry as he glided toward the table.

He didn't even look my way as he literally floated across the floor, the fabric of his gray robe taking the form of mist, while I just stared in a dumbstruck stupor until he stood over the book. Finally, he looked up at me.

"Vhat a pleasant surprise. My spell book vent missing years ago, and I have been at such a loss vithout it." His Russian accent had me grinding my teeth, and I tried to force my feet to move toward him, but they stayed stubbornly where they were.

"Reese! Answer me!" I heard Vincent's shouts as if he stood right behind me, although I knew he couldn't enter the vault. Surely, he saw my foot holding down the bottom stair as I focused my attention on the shady character in the robe.

"I need that book, too," I said, clearing my throat when it came out weak. "I need to remove this curse before it kills me and my...and my baby."

My desire to earn his sympathy took over as I revealed my purpose, and he looked pointedly at the fireballs dancing inside my palms, offering that unnerving smile I'd come to distrust. Now I knew why. "It is not curse. It is magic. Have you tried using it? You might like."

"I don't want the magic. It's doing crazy things to my body. I'm worried one of these times I might..."

"Burst into flames?" He said this with a curious head tilt, and his black lenses glinted. "Perhaps. But not if you learn to control it."

"Reese, this is Glade! Who are you talking to?"

I ignored Glade. Dmitry was eyeballing the book, brushing the dust from the cover with a gentle hand. In the time it took me to remember the gloves in my pocket, Dmitry was already tucking the book under his robed arm. Then he assessed the rest of the items on the table, glaring at the evil eye medallion with distaste before grabbing the basket of lapel pins and dumping them into the pocket of his robe.

"There is only one item I miss. Zhe pharaoh's cube. Vhere is it?"

He stepped away from the table and billowed toward me. My first instinct was to run, but I held my ground. I didn't want him to think I was a pushover.

"I don't know where the cube is. That secret is kept in a very tight circle and I'm not in it. Probably for my own protection. Please, give me the cure to these fevers and I'll help you."

Begging had never been my style, but it turned out I was willing to do anything to protect my baby. I glanced at the book buried under the folds of robe, praying for an ounce of compassion. "Help me get rid of the curse...the magic, and you can keep the book. That's why you sent the message with the flowers, isn't it? You wanted me to open the vault so you could snatch it?"

He chuckled in a smooth, practiced drone. "You have much cleverness, but you do not realize gift zat is bestowed on you. With zhe right tutoring, you could command armies. Sadly, zhe child you carry takes power from you. But zat vill remedy itself sometime, ya?"

His Russian had grown course, like he maintained two personas; the refined recluse and the diabolical villain.

"Reese, God dammit! Answer me!" Vincent used his seriously pissed off voice to call into the vault, and I finally shouted back.

"I've run into a little snag! Give me a sec!" I glared at Dmitry. "Why did you let Vincent have the cube if you need it so badly?"

Dmitry now stood directly in front of me, and I felt my lungs contract, as if the air had gone cold. "Like you, I am keen with my senses. I knew zhe demons would come to auction house for zhe cube. But my luck vas vith me zhat night vhen I saw you. A hybrid with zhe gift."

So, Vincent's hunch was right. Dmitry knew demons existed. And the guy had figured me out as well.

"That still doesn't explain why you didn't outbid Vincent. You have plenty of money."

"Because cube vas not zhe only zhing I needed. I also needed a fire bearer to light flame. Leaving cube in your care vas small risk for great reward. Thank you, little devushka."

He pulled the book from his arm and waved it under my nose, tempting me to snatch it away. But I knew I couldn't. He had all the power. That smoke was no bullshit.

"Are you the necromancer? The one they call Zen...thophelius?"

His smiled returned and it made me want to scrub my skin. "You have studied your demon lore. Or did you make connection after seeing my demon in zhe labyrinth?"

"Vincent suspected something right away. But I think our meeting here will surprise him."

"Reese!" Vincent hollered at the top of his lungs, and I actually felt the floor quake. "I don't care what you found in there. I want you out, now!"

"Our time is short," Dmitry crooned, looking unconcerned about my raging husband at the top of the stairs. "If you vant magic removed, you need to do something for me first. I vill be in touch soon."

I eyeballed the book one last time, debating on whether to wrestle him to the ground for it, and he laughed as he snapped his fingers, causing the book to disappear into his sleeve like mist. Then he pressed his lips together and whistled. Instantly, his body morphed into smoke, and like an archer's arrow, he jettisoned up through the opening in a black blur. The sound of breaking glass preceded a screech, and Vincent shouted again.

"Reese!"

"I'm fine! I'm coming up!" I was careful to turn around slowly. My legs tingled like pins and needles from the fear-induced paralysis I'd suffered. Or was it something Dmitry had done to me?

Glancing upward, I climbed toward Vincent's towering frame. He stood in his gollum form, and blood stained his clothes. The fireballs in my hands were still blazing as if I'd just conjured them, and I barely had time to snuff them out before Vincent strong-armed me at the last stair. He immediately dragged me under his wings, dousing my sinuses with his powerful, battle-enhanced scent.

"What happened down there? Are you injured?"

"I'm fine."

The vault began to close, and Vincent quickly pulled me away as the staircase vanished, along with my chances to remove the curse. I wiggled loose to catch my breath and realized Colin and Claudette were nowhere around. Only Glade and Vincent, and both looked like hell.

"What happened up here? You have blood on your face, Glade." I pointed to her cheek, and she pointed to her shoulder where her shirt had been sliced.

"I'm not surprised. I was hit with magic. If I hadn't been blessing myself daily for the past ten years, I would be dead."

"I'm so sorry. I knew something serious was happening, but..." I finally noticed the busted stained-glass window and upturned candelabras on the floor. Not a good sign. "Where are Colin and Claudette?"

"They had to drag a pair of demon scum outside and teach them how to respect the clergy," Vincent growled.

"Real demons or zombie demons?" I asked.

"They smelled like death, which was all the convincing I needed to kick their asses." His mouth pinched, and I noticed a small cut bleeding on his lower lip. "They wielded weaponry I've never seen before, though. Built right into their claws. Adam was ambushed by two of them before Rizzo could defend him. He's being treated next door. Which brings us back to my original question. What the hell happened down there? You were talking to someone."

"Yes. Dmitry Stepanov. He's the necromancer."

"What? Where is he now?" Vincent yanked me inside one wing, assuming a protective stance and cutting off the circulation to my arm.

"Watch it, Vincent. You're still in battle mode." He let go, but only enough so I could rub the spot. "Dmitry wanted the book. This was a set-up. He needed me to open the vault so he could take it. And now he wants me to hold onto to the cube until he's ready for it. Only then will he help me remove the curse." I hoped.

"The necromancer?" Glade breathed the name as she fondled the tear in her shirt. "That's what ricocheted out of the vault?"

"Yes, he can change into smoke. That's why I didn't say anything at first. I was paralyzed from the brain down."

Vincent shook his head. "We have to take this to the magisters. But first, I need to speak with the bishop about repairing the damage. I'll meet you two at the front of the church. Do not go outside without me."

He spent the next few minutes returning to his less frightening form. Then he kissed me desperately for a good twenty seconds before walking away. Glade didn't seem bothered by Vincent's behavior. She also didn't seem eager to talk as we made our way to the door. Charleton said she was sensitive. A demon battle inside a church must have really shaken her. Still, my curiosity and my nervous energy got the better of me.

"I can't believe demons managed to get inside the church. Even with our scouts outside. That's serious stealth."

"Actually, the scouts did their job. Rizzo called Colin and warned us about the demons right before they broke a window and climbed inside. A lot of unpleasantness followed that. Then Colin and Claudette finally dragged them to the exit. But something else strange happened." She looked around the church, nodding as if replaying the scene in her head. "One of the demons released something from his pocket. It shot past me into the vault, nearly taking off my arm."

"That must have been Dmitry. He did the same thing on his way out. He also turned the book into smoke right before he made off with it. Now I've got this magic sticking to me that he calls a gift. Apparently, if I tried, I could command armies with it." I snorted as I stopped next to a pew and sat down.

"He called it a gift?"

I nodded. "His words. He said I'm carrying power that could be amazing if I learned how to control it, but the baby is taking some of it now. He also said that I could burst into flames. Of course, he didn't tell me how to keep that from happening. Vincent's going to flip when I tell him... If I tell him."

My hands had begun to shake, or maybe they'd been shaking all along, and I stuck them under my legs to calm them. I hated that we had played into Dmitry's hands. I wanted to punch him in his ugly nose, but that would have to wait until he made contact. What utter bullshit.

Glade crouched beside the pew and looked up at me through gentle, blue eyes. "Like I said before, the magic is strong in you, but that doesn't mean we can't do something to calm it."

"Really? Do you know a counter spell that might help?"

"Not a spell, but we are inside a church, and I know a helluva good blessing."