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wife. “A rudimentary device, but effective all the same.”
    “We think the culprit smuggled it in somehow,” the guard admitted.
    “Looks as if there’s a traitor in our midst.” Dane went behind the massive, semicircular liquor bar of polished mahogany and brass, finding an ancient cabinet hidden there. Turning a golden key in its lock, he then removed two bottles, which he set on the bar. Finding a quartet of ornate goblets, he began pouring.
    “Hard to believe that only a few weeks ago Pretender Galas were all the rage in Rome,” he went on. “No fear then. Humans thought nothing of cavorting about dressed as their favorite mythological deities and beasts. Their greatest pleasure on a Sunday afternoon was flocking to the museums to gawk at the statues and urns Bastian unearthed in the Forum. Centaurs, Venuses, Fairies, Satyrs.”
    “That was before they found out such creatures were real,” said Bastian. “Which put a more sinister complexion on things for them.”
    “I’ll be damned if anyone is going to force us out of this world with rioting and arson,” said Sevin. “We’ve been here most of our lives. This is our home, not ElseWorld.”
    Then to the guard, he said, “Lock the doors for the night. From here on out, I want tighter security checks before anyone is admitted. Weapons are to be confiscated and held until patrons depart. Interview everyone before they go tomorrow to find out what they know about this. And secrete that device somewhere safe for tonight. Lord Bastian will want to take it with him tomorrow for study.”
    “Understood. Certainly,” said the guard as Bastian handed over the artifact. With a quick half-bow, the sentry charged off with the device to carry out his orders.
    Once he’d gone, Sevin set a hand at his hip and surveyed the scene. “The guard said you contained the explosion?”
    “Luc did.” Bastian jerked his head in the direction of their youngest brother, who hadn’t spoken a word since Sevin had joined them. “Which is why there was no more damage.”
    At the moment, Luc was lounging on a chair cocked back on two legs against the wall behind him, his boots propped on the chair opposite. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, chin tucked, and eyes closed. Without opening them, Luc muttered, “Just tossed out a simple spell, is all. Nothing to get excited about.”
    Bastian sent Sevin a look, which informed him that what their brother had done went far beyond “simple.” Knowing how Luc hated anyone marveling over the unusual powers he’d somehow acquired while hidden away for all those years in the Roman catacombs, they let the matter drop. All of them knew he was downplaying what he’d done. They were accustomed to that, and to his moody silences.
    Having poured measures of ruby liquid from the first bottle into three goblets, Dane handed them around. Then he poured from the second bottle into a fourth goblet. This was a nonalcoholic elixir, which he served only to Bastian, who could not tolerate spirits. “Drink up. The moon’s no more than an hour from coming.”
    Four golden goblets lifted toward the statue of their god, accompanied by four calls of “Salute!”
    Then, as one, the four Satyr lords drank of the elixir that was their lifeblood. It was a necessary thing they did now. Without this elixir to commence matters and prepare their minds and bodies for the Calling, they would meet their deaths in the hours before dawn.
    This ruby liquid was the sole reason that the Satyr clan in Tuscany still guarded a special, ancient gate on their lands. Through this conduit between the adjacent worlds, grapes were regularly exchanged. Those that came from ElseWorld vineyards were brought into this world, and then a portion were transported to Rome for use in this tradition.
    This cross-pollination between the worlds was crucial in keeping all the peoples of ElseWorld’s blood alive. If the gate’s location was ever leaked to humans, it could prove