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disastrous.
    Sevin tossed back his elixir and was quickly done, setting his empty goblet aside. Humans considered them to be little more than carnal beasts, he knew. But these Callings were more than an animalistic sexual romp. Nights such as these brought ElseWorld clans and families together to worship the ancient gods and ways of their ancestors. The ritual tonight would be a time of bonding. A renewal of what they all were. An affirmation of what it meant to be of Satyr blood.
    “Is this the last of it?” Dane asked, studying his goblet.
    Sevin nodded. “I’ll send for fresh grapes from Tuscany on the morrow to get started on fermentation of more stock.”
    Bastian shook his head. “I’m afraid it will no longer be so easy. There’s a travel embargo. Voted into law throughout Italy this afternoon. I don’t know the details. But the gist is that those of us with ElseWorld blood are no longer allowed to travel outside the confines of our city of residence.”
    Dane and Sevin both swore darkly.
    “This day just keeps getting better and better,” Luc muttered into his goblet. He raised his drink to his lips. But then he grimaced and moaned. His chair legs hit the floor and he bent low, his head dropping between his legs.
    “Luc! What is it?” Sevin demanded in alarm, going to him.
    “Damned headache.” Luc pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead.
    The brothers shared a look. Luc never complained unless he was near to dying.
    “Has this happened before?” asked Dane.
    Luc nodded and then moaned again as if the movement had pained him. “A few times. But this is worse. Like lightning driving through my brain.”
    He sat up again and let his head drop back against the wall, visibly making an effort to breathe evenly.
    “Could the coming of tonight’s whole moon be the cause?” Bastian speculated. “That combined with the fact that the protective curtain is now gone?”
    “Maybe this will help,” said a voice. Sevin looked over his shoulder to see Ella approaching. Other employees and patrons had been filtering into the bar. But she had brought a cool cloth and now made as if to lay it on his youngest brother’s brow.
    With a snarl, Luc knocked her hand away.
    Another of the salon’s female employees shook her head sharply at Ella and drew her aside. “That one doesn’t like to be touched,” she whispered in a voice that carried. “He won’t even touch us on a Calling night.” She nodded in Sevin’s direction. “Unless his brother insists.”
    Her warning fell into a silence that caused it to hang heavily in the air.
    “Out!” Sevin commanded, his gaze encompassing the room. Patrons and employees alike started in surprise at his tone.
    As a guard came and ushered them away, Sevin went to Luc and carefully clasped a hand on his shoulder. He and his brothers made a point of regularly making such gestures, trying to accustom him to accepting them again. “Perhaps it’s time to retire, Luc. Maybe Shimmerskins will put you at ease.”
    Goblet still clasped in one white-knuckled hand, Luc grunted a grudging assent and rose. But the instant he stood, he stumbled and let out a guttural cry. His free hand reached out blindly and found Sevin’s sleeve, gripping his arm hard, as if needing a lifeline.
    Sevin steadied him. “I’ve got you. You’re all right.”
    But Luc only laughed, a hollow, aching sound that sent a knife of empathy stabbing deep into Sevin’s marrow. “No, brother. I’m not all right,” Luc muttered cryptically. Something in his tone went odd then, and he bit out three final words. “Not. At. All.”
    “What the hells?” Sevin heard someone say. Dane. But then his brothers and everything around him began to waver, like a scene on a distant horizon viewed through the sweltering summer heat. The carousel music sounded garish and tinny to his ears and its spinning made him dizzy. He fought to breathe.
    And then, suddenly, Sevin was bathed in darkness. Not the kind in