“I see.” Jerrett stepped back. He had to get inside, but he dared not let the men know what he was up to. He looked about. No one paid any attention to what was going on at the residence.
     He latched onto the door handle. “Well, let’s see if it’s locked.” He turned it and the door fell open.
    “Stop right there,” the soldier ordered. “You’re not allowed in.”
      Once again, Bane growled.
    Jerrett glanced at his sidekick. The canine turned his gaze to his newfound master, the light from nearby campfires shining in his eyes.
   Jerrett could take one of the soldiers with his Oathtaker’s blade, but it was unlikely he could take them both down without attracting unwanted attention. Still, he knew Bane understood—he could feel it. Confident the animal would follow his lead, the Oathtaker reached for his weapon. In one smooth move, he grabbed his blade, drew it forward, then flicked his wrist.
     His weapon soared to the chest of the first of the soldiers—his intended mark.
   Meanwhile, Bane, growling deep in his throat, leapt toward the second man, his jaws open wide, his lips curled, his vicious teeth exposed. Soundlessly, they clamped down on the man’s neck, puncturing his jugular, and bringing him to an instant halt.
     Jerrett retrieved his blade.
   Bane held his quarry between his teeth and shook it.
    “Good boy. Come. That’s right. Let’s go.”

Dixon hadn’t missed anything about the palace. He dreaded its endless protocol. Walking just behind Lilith and Marshall, he felt like a prisoner. I am a prisoner, banded like this.
     Up the long staircase they climbed as a staff member lit torches along the way. Flowerpots cast in designs of birds and animals flanked the edges of the steps. In the middle of the landing at the top, sat a fountain. Around it was room to lounge, provided one did not mind getting damp from the mist in the air. When they reached it, Dixon called out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
     “Dixon, do come in. It’s late, and that crowd can’t be trusted,” Lilith said. “You’re a guest here and you’ll soon discover that those discontents out there don’t hold to finding any differences between the Select and other palace visitors—including Oathtakers.”
    He held up his banded forearm and glared. “A guest, you say? Banded? More like a prisoner. Or what, Lilith, a criminal?”
    She frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s for your own protection.”
    “Let me get this straight. You band me, and in doing so shut me from the very powers I would use to protect myself or others. Then with a straight face, you tell me it’s for my own good.” He shook his head. “Really, if you can’t be honest with yourself, you could at least be honest with me.”
    “Like I said, you’re being ridiculous. There are plenty of people who might not think too kindly of you, what with Rowena’s death and all.”
     “Judging by the welcome of the crowd out there,” he said, pointing toward the gate, “you’ve managed to please the locals so well that I’d be considered a hero if they believed me responsible for her death.”

“What’s this got to do with Lilith, Ted? We need to act quickly.”
     “I’m getting there.” He leaned in. “This little book,” he said as he patted it, “is one I’ve referred to again and again over the years. I never dreamed my years of study would be so important one day.” The small red leather book fit in his palm. Its cover was cracked and dry, making a design that looked like veins on the back of a hand. Its corners were curled.
     “What is it?”
    “Perhaps the most important book in the entire library.”
   Faith turned from her task. “What is it Ted? Something’s troubling you.”
      “You might say that.”
      “So what’s the book, Ted?” Hattie asked.
     “This,” he said, waving the book with each turn of his wrist, “is The Book of The Blood.”