Jen brought up the rear of the little procession, thoroughly bored with the whole proceeding. The sooner they got this meet and greet over with the happier she’d be. At least the paladin seemed to be enjoying herself. Marie-Bell looked here and there, her gazing darting from one ostentatious decoration to the next. It was hard not to be amused by the girl’s sheer exuberance.

The soft tread of a boot caught her attention a moment before the door to her right opened with a faint creak. She turned her head, keen for any change in the monotony. Staring back at her was the familiar, bearded face she’d only seen in an illusion.

“You!”

Rage boiled up in Jen and she charged the rapidly backpedaling Smyth. She slammed the door shut behind her so he couldn’t easily escape. Smyth leaned against the far wall, a twisted smile on his ugly face.

Damien destroyed the demon, Smyth was hers. “I’ve been looking for you, Mr. Smyth.” She didn’t bother drawing her sword. Jen planned to kill him with her bare hands.

The man’s eyebrows went up then he laughed. The son of a bitch actually laughed at her.

“I suppose it’s no surprise you only know me by that name.” He had a normal voice, average build; if not for the shaggy beard there’d be nothing noticeable about him.

Jen’s fists clenched and unclenched. “You seem calm for a man that’s about to die.”

He laughed again. “You think it’ll be that easy, girl? I’ve been killing people since before you were born—got a knack for it, you see. I’ve even killed warlords. Mind you I don’t count your father since I just led him along by the nose to his executioner.”

Jen took a step toward him, preparing to lunge across the room and strangle Smyth or whoever he was.

Smyth touched something and the section of wall behind him spun. She just caught a glimpse of him running down a hidden passage before the secret door spun shut.

“No!”

She slammed into the secret door with enough force to blast it off its hinges and send broken shards of wood bouncing down the narrow passage behind it. She just caught sight of Smyth as he ducked down another passage to the left.

Jen raced after him, not quite daring to move at full speed for fear of missing something. She rounded the corner, again just in time to see him duck down anther passage. He was running her around, using the twisting passages to slow her. Whoever he was, he wasn’t stupid. In an open space Jen would have killed him in an instant.

She considered drawing her sword, but the tight quarters would make the long blade more of a hindrance than a help. Instead she drew a wide-bladed dagger from her belt sheath. Not as good as strangling him, but it would do.

Jen rounded another corner and ran smack into a hard-swung mace. She staggered back, unharmed but stunned.

Another blow hit her shoulder and another her back. More annoyed than hurt Jen shook her head to clear it.

The mace descended again. This time she grabbed it and yanked it out of the hand of the black-masked man pounding her. The cultist staggered closer. Jen rammed her dagger into his chest three times in the blink of an eye. Hot blood ran down her fist.

Jen took off after Smyth before the cultist’s body hit the passage floor. The murderer’s plan became clear to her now.

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He’d run her around these passages and into ambushes in hopes of wearing her down. He was bound to be disappointed. She could go for days at this pace. Unless they had something stronger than ordinary men with steel there was no way Smyth could stop her.

She rounded another corner, following the faint disturbances in the dust. Her skills as a tracker didn’t compare to Talon’s, but between her enhanced vision and the little she did know, following Smyth’s trail didn’t pose much of a challenge.

Halfway down the passage a trapdoor opened under her. Jen slammed her hands and feet into the sides of the chute.

Fingers as hard as iron dug into the wooden sides of the chute stopping Jen’s fall after only a few feet. Her dagger kept falling. It clattered off something metallic in the bottom of the pit. She had just enough light to make out the gleam of needle-sharp spikes.

Jen turned her head back just in time for a spear to jab into her face. Razor-sharp steel scraped against her cheek without penetrating her iron skin. That didn’t discourage the man in black standing in the passage from repeatedly jabbing her with it.

Annoyed, Jen let go with one hand, grabbed the spear, and yanked. Instead of letting go the idiot fell screaming down the shaft. Jen dropped the spear and dug her free hand into the wall before the cultist slammed into her.

His additional weight forced her a foot further down into the pit. The man scrambled for purchase, finally wrapping his legs around her waist. They hung there facing each other. Jen raised an eyebrow and the cultist punched her in the face. His fingers shattered against her nose.

While the cultist shook his broken hand Jen sent soul force into her hair. The golden strands glowed and rose up around her head before lancing out like hundreds of tiny snakes. The strands, made tough as steel by the infusion of soul force, burrowed into the man’s face.

He screamed. A second later the strands reached his brain and sliced it to bits. The cultist went limp and fell onto the spikes below.

Jen shuddered. When this was over she was going to have to give her hair a thorough washing. She climbed up out of the chute. No more enemies presented themselves.

The tracks in the dust had gotten all scuffed up from the second cultist’s passage, but she thought she knew where Smyth had gone. She set out again, more cautious this time. Jen regretted the loss of her dagger, but it changed nothing.

The passage ended in an intersection that apparently saw a great deal of traffic. The dust was so disturbed she had no idea which way to go. Down the right-hand branch was nothing but closed doors. She at first thought the left side exactly the same, but when she narrowed her eyes a crack of light leaked out from under one of the doors.

It was almost certainly a trap, but Jen didn’t care. If some more cultists wanted to die, she’d be happy to accommodate them. Despite her acceptance of the danger Jen still approached the lighted door cautiously, soul force surging through her body. She kicked it off its hinges and across a richly decorated bedroom.

The coppery tang of spilled blood assaulted her. A dead bald man lay slumped in front of a massive, four-poster bed, his throat cut ear to ear.

“Heaven’s mercy.” Even though he didn’t have on his usual silk and brocade Jen recognized the lord mayor. The front of his white undershirt was soaked in blood down to his waist.

“You appear shocked.” Smyth stepped out of the shadows on the opposite side of the bed. “The high and mighty Keeper of the Keys gave me one order too many.”

Jen looked away from the body. Smyth stared at her with glittering eyes. He was completely insane. “Keeper of the Keys?”

“Oh yes. His Lordship was the second highest ranking member of the cult in this city. If you’d seen some of the things he’d done you’d thank me for killing him.”

“Perhaps someone will thank me for killing you.”

Smyth grinned. “No doubt. But not today.”

His toe tapped the floor and he started to fall.

With her soul force fully active Smyth seemed to move in slow motion.

She lunged across the bed and grabbed his beard and face just before it disappeared down yet another secret passage.

With one arm she yanked him out of his hole and hurled him across the room.

Smyth smashed into a floor-length mirror, shattering it, and sending pieces of glass everywhere. Jen wiped the stiff hair off her hands and walked over to the fallen man. It was time to end this.

Smyth sat up and laughed. Blood covered his lips and his face bore a dozen cuts. “Perhaps this is my day after all. You asked if anyone would thank you for killing me. I thank you, for sparing me another day in this shit-house of a world. My parting gift is Koran Dane, my real name.”

A boom reverberated through the floor. Koran smiled. “It seems I’ve done my job after all.”

“What job?” Jen grabbed him and yanked him off the floor.

Koran just laughed. He didn’t stop until Jen snapped his neck.