Serpent's Kiss by Thea Harrison

the edge of shadow when she does that. What if she has an episode and then the angle of the sun changes?”
    He swore under his breath. Daily episodes weren’t a good sign. In one of Carling’s oral histories, one Vampyre had reached such a point and he was gone in a matter of weeks. Had he simply collapsed into dust? Usually mortal creatures struggled with death. Their hearts went into arrhythmia and their breathing became labored. If Vampyres were killed by the sun, they burst into flames first and expired in horrible agony. When they were killed in other ways, they disintegrated into dust.
    He and Rhoswen reached a flight of stairs and took them three at a time. Rasputin rode silently under Rhoswen’s arm, his small foxy head swiveling to track Rune’s movements.
    Rune said, “From here on out, we don’t leave her alone. Agreed?”
    She nodded. “Agreed. Sentinel, maybe I haven’t seemed very welcoming since you arrived, but I want you to know—I’m glad you’re here.”
    Rhoswen didn’t seem very welcoming at the best of times, but he shouldn’t get snarky on her just when she appeared in need of a moment.
    Instead, he said, “Don’t sweat it. Just stop calling me Sentinel, would you? It makes me feel like some kind of flea and tick repellent.”
    The Vampyre darted a quick startled glance at him. He winked at her, and she coughed out an uncertain laugh. At the top of the stairs, Rune put a hand on her arm. When she stopped, he gave her a steady look that had nothing of humor in it.
    “We should be prepared for the possibility that Carling won’t survive,” he said. Saying it aloud made his muscles clench, but he forced himself to speak calmly. “But I promise you, we’re going to do our damnedest to see that she does.”
    Rhoswen’s mouth shook. “Thank you.”
    He nodded and let go of her arm. She turned and led the way down the second-story hall, toward a pair of carved wooden doors at the hallway’s end. Rhoswen started to open one door, and sunlight—what looked like sunlight—spilled through the widening gap from the room beyond.
    Rune didn’t pause to think. He grabbed Rhoswen’s shoulder in a hard grip and yanked her back, away from the light.
    She stumbled and clutched the dog close as she looked around wild-eyed. “What is it? What happened?”
    He said, his voiced edged, “I’m sorry. Look, it’s a knee-jerk reaction. That looks like sunlight, but it can’t be because the sun is setting and the house is almost dark. What is it?”
    “What are you talking about?” Rhoswen stared at him. “What light?”
    He took a deep breath. Let it out again. He gestured toward the half-open door. “There is light spilling out of that room, a very bright, strong yellow light like sunlight in the middle of the day. Are you telling me you don’t see it?”
    “No I don’t,” Rhoswen said. Now the whites of her eyes were showing too, just like the dog’s. She looked nothing like her usual sleek composed self. She looked disheveled, frightened and very young. “It’s quite dark, actually. I just figured since you’re Wyr, you would have good eyesight and you’d be okay with that.”
    “Oh-kay,” said Rune. He pursed his lips in a soundless whistle. “Let’s go carefully here.”
    He stepped toward the door and pushed it wider open slowly, watching to make sure that none of the light he saw—or thought he saw—spilled directly onto Rhoswen. The hallway brightened further as the door opened. It still looked like sunlight to him, and it felt saturated with magic.
    He drew a line through the air with a finger. “This is where the light that I see ends. I want you to cross that with just the tip of your finger.”
    Now she looked at him as if she suspected he was crazy, but she did as he asked and extended her forefinger until it crossed the demarcation he had shown her. They both stared at her finger, which remained unburned.
    “Do you still see the light?” Rhoswen asked.
    “As