“How do you do that?” she asked.

He frowned, not, she could see, from irritation at her question but more in an effort to figure out how to explain what he experienced. It must be something he had known how to do for so long it came automatically to him, like breathing. “I put my hand down on the land and send out my awareness. It doesn’t take a heavy pulse of Power. It’s more like a knowing that comes to me.”

She tried to imagine what that must feel like. Maybe it was the same kind of knowing she got when she sensed magic was around, or a spell had been cast, just more focused on the land. She wanted to try it out for herself sometime. “So there are different ways in and out of this place.”

“Correct. We had a better chance of getting away by taking off in an unpredictable direction than going back the way they had crossed over. We may even be able to go so far north that we can connect to New York or get at least close to it.”

“Since we’re talking, why doesn’t technology work in Other lands?”

“That’s a bit of a misnomer. Some technologies work if they’re of a passive design, if they utilize natural forces that are already present like water flow, and if they don’t involve combustion more complicated than a wood-burning stove or a boiler. Modern crossbow designs aren’t exactly passive, but they’re fine to use because they don’t ignite. You can also bring over things like factory-made glass windows, artwork, various convenience appliances like Melitta or French-press coffee-makers and even composting toilets, as long as what you bring over is not dependent upon electricity and you can transport it safely through a dimensional passage.”

She chuckled. “You sound so domestic.”

He smiled. “I have quite a comfortable house in an Other land connected to upstate New York where we’ve done a lot of experimenting to see what works and what doesn’t. It is designed to take maximum advantage of the sun, which heats water for an underfloor hypocaust system that keeps the house warm. Very Roman. As far as why certain technologies don’t work?” He shrugged as he ran his fingers through her hair. “There are a couple of theories bandied about, but the short answer is nobody knows for sure.”

She tilted her head back, reveling in the petting. “A single-action revolver isn’t a very complicated device, nor is a flintlock rifle, but I’ve heard that even simple guns are too dangerous to use.”

“You’re right. Simple guns are just the application of gunpowder, fire and lead, with a barrel. Interestingly the more primitive the gun is, the longer you could use it in an Other land. Automatic weapons seize or misfire as soon as they’re brought over. You might get a few more shots fired out of a simpler, more historic model. You might possibly get as many as a half-dozen rounds fired off, but the amount is never predictable and in the end the gun will always misfire.”

She frowned. “Good way to lose your eyesight or your hand.”

“Or your life,” he said. “One possible explanation is the Living Earth Theory. What if the world was a gigantic entity? When you use a living creature as a conceptual model, then the earth would have discrete parts, organs, limbs, veins, muscles, a skeletal structure and arteries and so on. What if the Other lands are more essential to this organism’s overall system than other places are, more like the artery than the outlying vein, or a vital organ as opposed to one you can survive without? What if the magic that is so strong over here and that dampens, even sabotages, certain technologies is Earth’s defense mechanism?”

“Kind of like white blood cells?” she said. “If you use that analogy, maybe you could shoot simpler guns a few more times because it would take the immune system longer to recognize them.”

“Exactly. The theory is more poetry than science, but I like it. There’s also a modified Living Earth Theory that knocks out the concept of a world entity. It focuses instead on individual pockets of Other land as collective ‘minds’ that are created from the magic-drenched land and regional wildlife, although these minds aren’t necessarily conscious as we currently understand consciousness. In this theory, the concept of magic acting as a defense mechanism and hampering technology is still the same.”

She smiled, intrigued and delighted by this new glimpse into him and his active, curious mind. “You’re quite the scientific thinker, aren’t you?” she said.

His eyebrows rose and he nodded. “I like to look for underlying patterns and meaning to the world. I do a lot of reading in scientific journals.”

She finished her meal and licked her fingers for any lingering sweetness. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she felt him harden against her inner thigh. Her breathing hitched.

But he moved her from him, rose to his feet and offered her a hand to pull her upright. She was too sore to be disappointed. She told herself that a couple of different times as she scooped up the crumpled tunic and leggings and the blanket. She went to the stream to rinse away the evidence of their . . . whatever.

What was the word for what they had done? Lovemaking was too pretty. Sex seemed too simple and basic. Mating sounded like it could be too permanent. She bit her lip as anxiety threatened to knock her sideways.

It’s too much to think about. It’s too big. He really did demolish me. I don’t know who that hellcat slut was that tore up grass and screwed her brains out. I don’t know who I am anymore.

She shut down those thoughts before she careened too far out of control. She reasserted the dampening spell. She sighed with resignation as she turned her hands over and looked at them. Predawn was lightening the clearing to gray, and they were just normal dim, human-looking hands.

A real hot meal, a bed, a stable schedule. Going to bed in the evening. Getting up in the morning. The things you take for granted until you don’t have them anymore.

She dragged the tunic and leggings on and sat on the ground to pull on her tennis shoes. She bit back a grimace at their dingy state and added it to her list of grievances. A hundred thousand dollars down the toilet. Three IDs gone. No car. No socks. No underwear.

And what did she do? She went and had sex with the cause of all of her problems. Sure, it wasn’t the yawn-and-make-upa-grocery-list-until-he’s-finished kind of sex. It was a kind she had never even imagined was possible, a what-the-hell-is-my-name-again kind of sex, but sex was all they’d had. She was worse than a fool if she tried to make it into anything else—she was a Wyr-dingbat, and wasn’t that a god-awful sorry concept for a creature.

She yanked her shoelaces tied as she bitched to herself; then she glared at the object of her obsession.

He had rinsed at the stream too and pulled on his jeans and boots. He was on one knee by the dying fire. He laid his hand on the red coals and with one last pulse they went black. She sucked in a breath. So, okay, maybe he was a what-the-hell-is-my-name-again kind of guy.

His head came up and his body stiffened. He twisted to stare in the direction of a light breeze that blew through the nearby trees.

What is it? She drew in a deep breath, scenting the breeze. She caught a hint of stench.

He leaped upright. “Run.”

TEN

She jumped to her feet and grabbed the blanket and hairbrush with shaking hands. She started to stuff them into the bag.

No more Goblins. Please God. I’ll be good and eat all my peas.

“Forget all that. Drop it.” He lunged for his weapons. “Go.”

If there was one thing she could do well. She dropped everything, whirled and ran.

Everything inside went on red alert, all systems flashing. Adrenaline kicked her ass. Her vision sharpened, her sense of smell heightened and her hearing became more acute. She plotted out the best path ahead of her at the same time as she strained to hear any hint of pursuit.

There was nothing, no sound. There was just the wind waltzing through the trees, the sound of her own breathing gone ragged from fright and Dragos racing behind her. But she caught another whiff of Goblin stink. Her heart lurched.

Dragos said in a calm voice behind her, “Fast as you can, Pia.”

Right. She tucked her chin in, sought and found her stride, then kicked it out.

Dragos raced after her as the sky became brilliant with sunrise. Pia seemed to have gone weightless. Damn, she ran like a cheetah. Maybe faster. Hell of a thing to watch. She sailed over obstacles like fallen tree trunks and rocks, making the leaps look effortless, as if she simply chose to pick up her feet and fly. He found room in himself for one more surprise as he discovered he was falling behind.

Good girl. If she had endurance as well as speed, they might be okay.

Pia let her mind go blank and lived in the moment. Nothing existed beyond the deep rhythm of her breathing, the athletic flex of muscle and bone, the sound of Dragos running behind her. They had plunged deep into the forest so that the infinite bowl of the sky became obscured with heavy boughs of green, but the morning light brightened and the day grew warmer until her skin was coated in sweat.

The forest was silent around them, ancient tree trunks twisted with secrets and imprisoned by creeping vines. She realized that since the Goblins had brought them over the day before, she hadn’t heard another single creature nearby, not a rustle, peep or tweet. Maybe it was because she was in the presence of the most apex predator of them all. Or maybe it was because Goblins swarmed through the forest like a terminal disease. Or both.

I don’t blame any of you, she thought. I wouldn’t rustle, peep or tweet either if I were you.

Then like a chill mist rising from the ground, a sense of cold Power crept over her. It licked along her overheated skin and tightened over her body, squeezing like a boa constrictor wrapping around its prey.

Panicked revulsion closed her throat muscles, or perhaps the constriction of Power did. She stumbled to a halt, instinct driving her to claw at her neck.

Dragos whirled to face back the way they had come. As Pia looked over her shoulder, he roared. Tendons stood out in his neck, and the massive muscles of his chest and arms clenched with the force of his fury. The memory of what had happened in New York faded to triviality next to this apocalyptic noise. Standing as she was so close to him, even in his human form the Power in his roar ripped through the fabric of the world.

The hair at the back of her neck rose. Terror bolted through her from an atavistic place deeper than conscious choice.

The sound shredded the constriction around her throat. The chill constriction of Power receded. Suddenly she could breathe again. She gulped air.

Dragos turned, the savage bones of his dark face transformed with rage and hate. The hot gold of his eyes were twin suns, and his pupils had changed to slits. “Now we know for sure,” he growled. “Urien is here and trying to slow us down. Run.”

She fell back a few steps, still staring at him. He narrowed that lambent alien gaze on her and tilted his head, the very picture of male exasperation. Alrighty. She threw up her hands in an I’m-going-already gesture, spun on one heel and ran for her life.

Not long afterward, she broke out of the edge of the forest and faltered as she looked ahead at a wide, flat plain. There was no cover for creatures of their size. She glanced back, uneasy, as he caught up with her.

He had the battle-axe and sword strapped to his back again. The rage in his hawkish face had eased but his eyes were still lava hot.

“Can you change?” she asked him.

“Not quite. I tried back in the forest.” He nodded at the plain. “It’s not like they don’t know we’re here.”

She bounded forward, and he got the chance to admire just how fast she could run unfettered by trees and underbrush.

To avoid wasting breath, she asked him telepathically, I still can’t hear them; can you?

No, I think Urien has been cloaking them, he told her. Otherwise I would have heard them a lot sooner. They would never have gotten so close.

That, and he’d allowed himself to be distracted by her sensuality. Damn it, he had known they had lingered too long, but he had done it anyway. This was all his fault. She was in danger again because of him. She messed with his head and his old, well-honed instincts short-circuited. He was never going to get so impatient with his men again when they fell for a beautiful face.

They’re chasing us while believing you can shift into a dragon? Even telepathically her mental tone indicated how suicidal she thought that was.

Unless they know otherwise, he said. Could be why they’re so aggressive. Maybe they do know about the Elven poison and that it should be wearing off soon.

She tripped and almost went down. He leaped forward to grab her arm. She turned a horror-filled gaze toward him. But that would mean the Elves—Ferion—knew we would be attacked.

Or it means at the very least that one of the Elves passed some helpful information on to an interested party, he agreed. He urged her back into a run. And to be fair, for all Ferion knew, you did what you said you would and drove me over the Elven border and left me.

Screw fair, she snapped. I see that Elf again, I’m gonna rip him a new one.

He couldn’t help but grin. I want to be there when you do.

She dropped back to keep pace at his side. When he frowned a question at her, she said, Don’t worry about me, big guy. I can beat any pace you set.

He laughed out loud. I just bet you can, lover.

She tossed her head. I’m just bored with rubbing your nose in it.

Despite their banter, they both knew their situation was growing more desperate. He kept watch behind them and soon he saw a horde of Goblins running out of the forest. Along with them appeared a score of armed riders on horseback.

Pia glanced behind as well. Goblins don’t ride, she said. Even I’ve heard that. Horses won’t tolerate them.

That’ll be their allies, the Dark Fae, he told her. He realized his raptor’s eyesight was much better than hers. He could see the Fae riders perfectly.