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  The words died on her lips. For a moment she could have sworn she saw a pair of eyes behind her in the mirror. Red eyes.

  She whirled around, her heart pounding, to see…nothing.

  “Of course it’s nothing. There’s no one here but me.” The sound of her own voice made her jump and Lauren put a hand to her chest to still her beating heart. It was time to stop being silly and get down to business. Today she had a brand new recipe she wanted to try out—a strawberry hazelnut with cream cheese frosting. She’d tried a small batch in the kitchen in her condo and they had come out nicely but—

  Suddenly there was a popping, humming sound like electricity and the air around her seemed to be full of lightning. Every hair on her head stood on end and her nerves twanged like plucked strings. Danger—you’re in danger! an inner voice shouted. The voice of instinct—the same primitive voice that must have warned the cavemen when a fire or flood was on the way.

  Lauren wanted to run—tried to run—but everything happened too quickly. The crackling electrical charge seemed to close around her, like a vast hand, and suddenly she felt herself dissolving. Looking in the mirror she could almost see it happening in slow motion—her body had been broken into a million tiny particles that were all vibrating against each other in deadly harmony. Her clothes, however, remained unaffected. In fact, they fell away from her, landing in a heap on the floor.

  No! No, what’s happening?

  There was no answer but suddenly she saw the eyes in the mirror again. Red eyes—blood red and laughing at her pain, her fear. She could almost feel the evil in that crimson gaze—the intent to cause harm—the desire to wound and mutilate and kill.

  Before she could think anything else, the tiny white tiled bathroom of The Sweet Spot disappeared and she felt herself flying through the air in pieces. It was the most bizarre sensation she had ever felt in her life—as though someone had put her entire body through a cheese grater and shot the results into the air at supersonic speed.

  I’m dying. This is dying, right?

  Again, no answer. But suddenly she felt herself reforming—all the tiny particles finding their places and sticking together again. Oh, thank God! She felt her arms and legs frantically, making sure she was all in once piece. She was naked but she was whole and at least nothing seemed to be missing.

  “Here ssshe isss at last. Sssee, my ssson, ssshe bears the mark. The mark the prophesy ssspoke of.”

  A long, skeletal finger suddenly appeared in front of her and pointed between her breasts. Lauren looked down to her small, pale birthmark reflexively—it was shaped like a star and stood out against her creamy brown skin. She’d always had it and never even thought about it anymore, though it looked strange when she wore a bikini.

  A feeling of dread filled her as she looked up, up, up the long arm clothed in billowing cobwebs and into the burning red eyes she’d seen in the mirror.

  “Yesss,” hissed a voice Lauren knew she’d been hearing in her dreams for the past few weeks. “Yesss, ssshe isss the one. At last I have her. Ssshe isss mine.”

  Chapter Four

  Kat was flying again but this time she wasn’t looking down at herself. Instead she was hovering inside a narrow stone tunnel. There was a faint light at one end that illuminated the pinkish brown stones and she could hear footsteps coming, echoing down the long enclosed corridor. Who’s coming? Will they see me?

  Looking down, she realized she couldn’t see herself. She was silent and invisible again, just as she had been before. Maybe I really am dead and this is my funeral. But why would they bury me in a cave? For some reason the thought held no fear, only fascination. Then the echoing footsteps grew louder. Kat pushed her morbid musings aside when she saw who was coming down the tunnel.

  A massive male—she couldn’t really call him a man because there was nothing human about him—was leading the way. He had pinkish mottled skin and he was wearing a loincloth of large, flat leaves. In his hand he carried a fiery silver whip that snapped and crackled as though it was made of lightning.

  What the hell? The question was driven out of her head when she saw someone familiar following the huge male. Deep was shirtless, his muscular chest gleaming in the light cast by the strange whip. Kat could see the silver light reflected in the black pools of his eyes too, which were otherwise completely impassive.

  “So this is the Stone Throat, eh?” he said to the giant who only grunted noncommittally. “I’ve heard of this place. Never thought I’d see it in person. Not that there’s much to see.”

  The enormous male didn’t even grunt this time. He just passed through the stone hallway, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling where Kat was still hovering in her invisible form.

  For some reason, she felt a stab of fear. What’s going on? What are they going to do? Without making a conscious decision to do it, she found herself gliding noiselessly after them down the stone corridor until they came to a thick green wooden door. Deep’s guide grasped the tarnished silver ring in its center and pulled it open easily though it looked immensely heavy to Kat.

  The door swung to one side revealing a vast, round room made of the same brownish-pink stone as the corridor. The ceiling curved up but instead of forming a perfect arch, it elongated into a tall stone chimney far above. From that small opening, a perfectly round spot of sunlight streamed down to rest on the floor at the exact center of the room. It illuminated a rough obelisk of white stone streaked with reddish-brown mineral deposits.

  The obelisk was at least ten feet tall and it pointed up toward the chimney like a jagged, accusing finger. Kat saw that someone had affixed two thick, rusty rings in its center. A feeling of cold dread filled her when she saw the thick chain running through the rings. What went on in this room? Why would anyone need to be chained to the strange white obelisk? She was horribly afraid but she didn’t want to let herself acknowledge it.

  “Will you be chained or will you stand?” The huge male’s voice was high and almost effeminate but it echoed eerily in the vast chamber.

  “I’ll stand.” Deep went to the obelisk without hesitation. Facing it, he gripped one of the rusty rings in each hand. His broad, muscular back presented the perfect target. “I’m ready.”

  Ready for what? Oh dear God, please no! Kat didn’t particularly like Deep—in fact, she thought he was kind of a jerk. He made her more uncomfortable than anyone else she’d ever met in her life. But no one deserved to be whipped with that hissing, crackling silver whip. There were freaking spikes on the end of it, for God’s sake. Was it some kind of punishment Deep was about to be subjected to? But what had he done? And who had decided he had to be punished?

  “Ready yourself,” the other male advised, raising the whip.

  “I said I was ready.” Deep’s voice held not a trace of fear—only irritation.

  How can he not be afraid? What’s wrong with him?

  Kat watched in horror as the massive arm rose and the whip cracked, lashing around Deep’s ribs with a hungry hiss. Deep made a similar sound himself—a low hiss of pain—as the barbed silver tongues bit into his flesh, but no other noise escaped him.

  The giant yanked the whip back, splattering crimson droplets against the white obelisk. Suddenly Kat understood that the brownish red streaks on its rough surface weren’t mineral deposits. Blood, my God, it’s blood! He’s bleeding! Stop it—stop!

  But the whip rose again, ready for another blow. “Scream,” the huge torturer advised. “Release your pain into the Throat.” He nodded at the stone chimney above. “It will make the agony less.”

  “Don’t want it to be less,” Deep growled. “Just get on with it, damn you.”

  “As you wish.” The whip cracked again, biting and tearing the smooth, tan skin of Deep’s back, shredding it to bloody ribbons. He barely flinched.

  No! Nooo! Kat tried to shriek but no sound came out. Deep didn’t cry out either. He stood at the obelisk, grasping the rusty rings in a white-knuckled grip, his jaw clenched and