Lord Morren paced back and forth across the workroom, his eyes always fixed on the glowing spell matrix. He didn’t bother to dismiss me, and after that tremendous drain of energy I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get to my feet anyway. Hours ticked by and I slipped in and out of consciousness. I was so desperately weary I could have slept for a month, despite my uncomfortable position on the floor, but at the same time I was so anxious that true rest eluded me. Sometime in the early hours of the morning my exhaustion finally overcame my worry and I slipped into a deep sleep. I was awakened by Lord Morren’s shout of triumph. I opened my eyes. I ached all over, both from the lingering pain of the power transfer and from a night spent on the hard floor. Surveying the room I saw that the sun was well up, for light streamed in through the narrow windows. Lord Morren was standing in front of his spell, and I could see that the pattern of the construct had changed. It was duller, as if the search had used up some of the power Lord Morren had poured into it. And in the center of the crystalline framework there was a window. I couldn’t make out what it showed from my angle, but it was clear that Lord Morren could.

“So! A woman, is it? Well, she’ll come to regret her boldness in daring to steal from me.” He rubbed his hands together in malicious glee. This was a side of him I’d never seen before. He’d always struck me as rational, though cold, but now he looked anything but sane. I shivered again. Not only was I in the hands of a sadist, but a madman as well, and my one chance of escape was slipping away.

I sat up. My head spun from the motion, but gradually things stopped whirling. Lord Morren had gone to the door, and moment later he returned with Amelia in tow. He’d found the thief, and now he needed more power for whatever spell of vengeance he was planning to enact. To my surprise I wasn’t ejected from my spot in the circle. Instead Lord Morren led Amelia to one dim corner of the room. A low block of stone stood there. I’d never paid it any particular attention. It was just an unremarkable chunk of granite, and I hadn’t really noticed it before. Lord Morren directed Amelia to kneel before the stone, which she did. He set a simple binding spell in place on her, preventing her from moving. I wondered why, since the power transfer spell rendered one completely immobile anyway. In the back of my mind a little suspicion was creeping in, but I refused to look at it closely. It wasn’t very nice, and I didn’t want it to be true.

Lord Morren began to speak, and though I’d never heard those words spoken, still I recognized them and my suspicion came back as a full-blown certainty. One of my very last classes at the university had dealt with such spells. We were not taught how to cast them, for they were more than illegal, but we learned a few of the basic principles behind them. I almost wished I didn’t know what was coming. It would have been easier if I didn’t know, didn’t have time to dread, before that final moment when Lord Morren would, as I knew now he must, pick up a longer knife than the one he’d so often used on us both and plunge it into Amelia’s heart.

The spell wasn’t a difficult one, but it was lengthy, and as it progressed word by word I suddenly found that my horror and disgust were crystallizing into rage. I got to my feet, finding energy in my anger. The long ago fear of my own rage had vanished somewhere during the past months of imprisonment. Pure white-hot anger flowed through me without any fear to dampen it. My hands began to ache oddly, a feeling that settled into my fingertips. My lips peeled back in a snarl, and without a thought I stepped out of the circle I’d lain in all night and started across the room. The ache in my fingers deepened, my vision was clouded with rage, and I could see nothing but Lord Morren standing over Amelia. Tough, determined Amelia who had stayed strong through more than I could imagine, who had even lifted my sagging spirits, who had endured so much and now was going to die for the sake of petty revenge. Well, not if I could do anything about it! My pace increased and I crossed the last few feet in a single leap. Lord Morren must have heard me coming at the very last, for he managed to turn halfway around.

In the moment of my attack, the dull ache in my hands flared into a sharp, cutting pain. I hardly registered it. Compared to what I’d been through it was nothing. Instinctively as I slammed into Lord Morren’s side, I brought one hand around with fingered crooked and clawed at his face. We both went down in a tangle, and for a moment we struggled on the floor until Lord Morren rolled free. He picked himself up, and I got to my feet as well. He had one hand pressed to his cheek, and blood welled between his fingers. When he dropped his hand I was surprised to see four deep parallel scratches. I looked down at my own hands and found my fingers were bloody and standing out half and inch or so beyond the end of each finger was a slightly curved claw. I had no time to think about this surprising development, for even as I looked up I saw Lord Morren advancing on me, hands raised and madness in his eyes. He flung his hands out in a violent pushing gesture, and I felt a blast of raw power hit me. It flung me the length of the room and I slammed into the workroom’s closed door. The door disintegrated into kindling at the force of the blow. I tumbled through the doorway in a shower of wood and my momentum carried me right off the landing, through the banister in a second explosion of splinters, and into the open center of the stairs. Great, I finally get my claws just in time to die, I thought as I plunged down the three stories to the ground floor. I landed with a shock that knocked the breath out of me… on my feet. I stood there half-crouched for a long moment, stunned both mentally and physically. I’d landed on my feet, just like Chris had all those years ago.