Chapter Fifteen

"We havefivemorevictimstoexplain,"RosstoldZaneashescribbled quickly.

"‘Berenice,'" Zaneanswered ashisentirerightsideburned with throbbing, incessant pain."Thewomanwhoseteethwereallyankedandshe waswrapped upinashroud anddumped atthecemetery. Then wehave ‘The OvalPortrait,' thewoman whowaspainted with herown bloodandstuck up on a canvas."

"God, it's so easy to see now," Sears groaned.

"Afewmoreandwehavethemall.Allexcepttheagentswhogot too close." Zane was shaking as he continuedto turn through the book.

"Jesus, it was right there all this time," Ross whispered.

"YoutoldtheAssistant Director aboutthis,right?"Searsasked suddenly.

"Henningerwas supposed to relay it," Zane answered with a sigh.

"Bettermakesure,"Rossmumbledashepulledouthiscellphone and started punching buttons while Sears took his notepad from him.

ZaneturnedtothefrontofthebooktolookattheindexasRoss swore atthe phone and moved to the window.

"Let's see," he murmured as he scanned over the names ofthe stories heremembered reading years ago. "‘The FalloftheHouseofUsher,'"heannouncedtoSearsasshewrotequickly. "The character is suffering from extreme hypersensitivity.That's got to be the first guy, the meth overdose."

Sears nodded without looking up from her writing.

Zanepagedthrough somemore withhisgoodhand."There's one. ‘WilliamWilson,'"hesaid."Amankillshisdouble.Thatexplainsthetwins." Hecontinued toscanandpassedonstoryafterstory."There's aclassic,"he murmured to himself. "‘The Raven,'" he mused. He made to turn the page to go to the next page of the index.

"Wait,"SearssaidasshereachedoutandtookZane'shand."Bird flu," she whispered.

Ross paused in his pacing, still messing with his phone, and he looked overatthemsardonically. "Well,that'ssortofclever,"hecommented before tossing his phone onto the couch and pulling Sears's off the strap of her purse.

Zane's facewasgrim. "That's allofthem. There's gottobetwenty more stories in here that he can play with."

"Nowwhat?Sowe'vefiguredoutthepattern,butitdoesn'tgetus closer to him," Sears protested in disgust.

"It helps us understandhow he thinks," Zane pointed out.

"Until yourprofiling buddycomes back,thatdoesn't dousmuch good," Ross pointed out as he paced and waited for the call to go through.

"Westillknownexttonothingabouthim,"Searspointedout."Even if we did, we can't leave you alone here to go do anything about it."

"Yes, youmostcertainly fucking can,"Zaneinsisted. "Idon't needa babysitter, andGradyandHenninger aregoingtoneedbackup. Callfor someone."

"We can't call anyone from here. Something in the building's blocking cellservice," Rossinformed theminfrustration ashewavedthe useless cell phone.

"Use Henninger'sphone," Sears suggestedlogically. Except Henningerdidn't have a landline.

"I'm going down to the garage and then up to the front of the building,okay? I'll be back," Ross declared, and he was out the door.

Zanenodded andpushed himself outofthechairtograboneofthe personnel files."Christ. There's gottobesomewaytofindthisasshole," he muttered.

SpecialAgentGaryRosshadn'tgonefarintothedarkenedparkingdeck whenhestumbled oversomething onthegroundashejoggedwithhisphone heldoutinfrontofhim,andhealmostwentsprawling.Herightedhimself andturnedtolook,cursingcreativelywhenherealizedthatitwasamanon the ground. He knelt beside him and felt his pulse.

"Fuck,"hehissed,recognizing Henninger's dark,curlyhair,now matted down with blood. "Tim?" hemurmured as the man groaned. "Why the helldon'tyouhaveafucking phone?" heaskedinannoyance ashebeganto gatherthemanofftheground.Heglancedtowardtheexitsignsattachedto theceilingsoftheparkingdeck,knowingthatjustafewmorestepswould givehimasignal,butheneededtogetHenninger insideandsafebeforehe could go call for help.

"Phone?" Henningermumbled weakly as he stirred.

"Comeon,"Rossgrunted,heftingHenningerupanddragginghim back toward the elevators.

Sears was pacing and Zane would have been aswell had hebeen able towalk, waiting forRosstoreturn.

"How dowefindhim?"Zanemuttered fromwhere heleaned awkwardly tooneside,tryingtokeepthepressure off his broken ribs. "We need another murder, another city he lived in. Some dots to connect."

"He's got toslip up sometime, especially since we know what to look for now," Sears assured. "The net's closing on him."

"Whichonlymakeshimmoredangerous,"Zanegrittedoutthrough the pain.

Athumponthedoorinterrupted them.ZaneglancedtoSears,who pulledhergunoutfromunderherjacketandnoddedtowardthedoor.She carefully walked to the side of the door until she was right up against itbefore looking through the peephole. "Shit!" she yelled, throwing the door open.

RosswaspantingasHenninger triedandfailedtostand.They staggered through thedoortogether. Rossdumped themanonthecouchwith a gasp, and Sears kicked the door closed as she rushed to help them.

"Whathappened?" shedemanded asshekneltnexttoHenninger on the couch, trying to check the head wound.

"Wegotjumped," Henninger croaked inanswerashewincedaway fromhertouch.Itlookedasifsomeonehadhithiminthesideofthehead withsomethingniceandblunt.Therewasenoughbloodthatithadcaked downthesideofhisface,anditwouldprobablyhurtlikehell,buthewasin nomortaldanger. "Isawhim takeGrady down with aclothorsomething and then the lights went out. There must have been two of them."

"Cloth?" Zanebreathed. Hesqueezed hiseyesshuttightly. "Chloroform,"hegroaned.Theyhadbeenrightaboutthataspect,anyway. "Henninger,"he said thickly. "We need to call the Bureau."

"What?" Henningerasked dazedly.

"He's sooutofit,hewon't have aclue what you're talking about," Rossmuttered,walkingovertothewindowtopeeroutasifsomeonemight be out there now, looking guilty. Sears sniffed and went to the kitchen for ice.

"Focus,Henninger," Zanetrieddesperately, notevenabletothink about Ty being at the hands of this monster.

"Okay," Henningermumbled as he sat up and held his head, squinting atthemall.Heseemedtobehavingdifficultycomprehending theurgencyof aphone. Their need waseven more urgent now; they needed every unit inthe city on the lookout for Ty and his captor.

"We need to call out. How the hell do you get any of your messages?" Ross asked him testily as he jabbed at his phone again.

Henninger swallowed andrubbedathisribsgingerly ashelookedup attheotheragent."Iturnoffthesignalblocker onthewindow," heanswered flatly.

Rossturnedtohim,confusion flittingoverhisfeatures, andSears steppedbackintotheroomtolookatthemoddly.Henninger shrugged apologeticallytothembothbeforepullingasilencedgunfromunderhis jacket. With two quick, quietpops, thegun sent both agents tothehardwood floor. Hestood quickly and turned toZane, who'd onlyhad timetoscramble out of the chair and get a few steps away.

"You son of a bitch," Zane whispered through a sudden stupor. Henningergave a lopsided shrug and a small smile, the gun trained on Zane unerringly.

Zaneremained motionless, handlowered outtohisside,injuredright arm useless in its sling. "Where's Ty?" he rasped.

"Dying,"Henningeransweredbluntly,hisheadcockingtotheside with the word.

It took everythingZane had to hold it togetheras agony ripped through him. "Why?"

Henninger laughed softly,amusement writtenalloverhisslightly bloodyface."Youknow,Gradyhadthegoodsensenottoaskmesucha stupid question."

Zane letout ashaky breath. Dying meant not dead yet.Heheld onto that thought tightly. "He's a smart man."

"Hewas,indeed," Henninger drawled. "Andsoareyou.Ifyoutwo werealittlelesssmart, we'dnothavetwodeadagents onourhands," hetold Zanewithanodofhisheadatthetwobodiesonthefloor."Hadyoufound my file amongst the stack, yet?" he asked.

"We got too close," Zane realized aloud. "Just like Reilly and Sanchez. Youkilledthemintheirhotel room.Youweremeeting withthem, weren't you? About thecase. Theytrusted you," heground out. "Wetrusted you."

"Look atme." Henninger laughed. "Everyone trusts me, Garrett. Even strangers."He grinned impishly.

Zaneshookhisheadslowly,hefting hishurtarmupagainsthimwith a wince. "Why all the murders? You're too sane for this."

"Stopmoving, Garrett,"Henninger orderedseriously. "Youknow, everytimesomeone's askedmethatIgavethem theanswer theywanted. It's such a trite question, really, but it's the only thing a dying person can think of, apparently. Butyou,"hewentonashebeganstepping alittlecloser,"you,I can't read well enough to give you an answer. I'm not sure what it is you want to hear."

"Howniceforyou,"Zanesnarled,pushingasidedesperationfor anger. "Put down the goddamn gun."

"You'renotreallyinapositiontobegivingorders,SpecialAgent Garrett,"Henninger murmured. "Anymorequestions beforeIkillyou?I'm rathershortontime,yousee,havingalltheseunexpected deadbodieslying around," he said in amusement.

"Whatdoyouneedfrommetogivemetheanswer?"Zanetried, wincing and gasping inpainashebumped backagainst thedoor with his injured arm.Hecould feelthegunTyhad given him resting heavily inhis sling, though he'd have to use his left hand to shoot.

Henninger tiltedhisheadandnarrowed hiseyes,intrigued bythe challenge. "Whydidyoucomeback?"heaskedfinally,theamusement and enjoyment clear inhisvoice. "Why did you come back with that asshole fora partner and the very real probability that you would die? Grady, he came back forrevenge.Butyou?Whydidn'tyoujuststayaway?Stayawayanddrink and drug yourself to a quiet death?"

Zanejerkedbackward inapparent surprise, slamming hisuselessarm against thedoor. Heyelped andgrabbed forhiselbow, hisgoodhandsliding undertheslingtosupportit.Hemadeaconsciousdecisiontoletthepain show clearly onhis face. He was going toneed his strength for other things... he hoped.

Weighinghis options as Henningerwatchedin lurid amusement, Zane tried todecide what tosayto get the most reaction. Enough reaction. He drew a breath. "I love him."

At that, Henninger stopped short in surprise. Then he began to chuckle."Lovehim?"heechoedwithagleefullaugh."Oh,thatisrich! No wonder helooked socrushed when Itoldhim itwashisfault you were going to die."

ThechillingedgeofHenninger'swordscutthroughhim,andZane drew another breath. "I love him," he repeated, voice stronger.

Henninger laughedharderinthefaceofZane'sconviction. Withina heartbeat's time,Zanesnappedhisleftarmoutawayfromhim,sendingthe slim stilettofromitssheath hurtling toward thekiller withenough speed that Henninger couldn't dodge it.The knife buried deep into his upper chest, close to the shoulder of his gun arm.

Cryingoutinangerandsurprise, Henninger jerkedtoonesideasthe knife hit, his gun firing uselessly off to the side, giving Zane just enough time topullouthisowngunandfire.Theshothithiminthegut—the perfect woundsinceZanewantedtointerrogate himashediedaslow,painfuldeath. Henninger staggered back,lookingdownattheburgeoning stainofbloodin shock. Slowly his knees gave out, and he began to sink to the floor.

Arm shaking, Zane kept the gun trained on him as he stalked over and kicked the weapon out of Henninger's hand, sending it sliding to wedge under the couch. He crouched down in front of him, took hold of the hilt of the knife sticking from Henninger'sshoulder, and twisted it hard.

Henninger criedoutinshockandpainandstruckout,hittingZane's injuredhipwithasmuchforceasafatallywounded mancouldmuster.Zane gritted histeethashisentirelegexploded intofire,buthekepttwisting. "Where ishe?"heground out."Tellmewhere heis,andI'llcallyouan ambulance."

TheblooddrainedfromHenninger's faceasthepaintookhimover. "You're sosmart," heslurred ashestruggled weakly. "Figure itout,"he rasped.

"Talk or you can bleed out here."

Henningermerelylaughedat himhoarsely.Growling,Zanedrew back his fist and hit Henningerin the gut, close to the gunshot wound.

TheedgesofHenninger's visiondarkenedashegurgledandgasped, butwhenthepainrecededhemanagedanotherlaugh."Hesaidyou'dkill me,"hemurmured asbloodbegantodribbleoutofthecornerofhismouth. "He said you'd make it hurt," he told Zane tauntingly.

Angerandterrorbuildingequally,Zanestoodupandyankedthe knife out of Henninger'sshoulder, ignoring the agonized cry of pain. He lifted thegunandpushed ittothekiller's forehead, staring downatthemanwho knelt before him. "He's right. Where is he?"

Henninger closedhiseyesandshookhishead.Heknewhewouldbe handed the death penalty if they found Grady alive. He also knew, deep down, thatGarrett wasgoing tokillhim even ifhedidtellhim where Grady was. Garrett wasjustthatkind ofguy. Gradyhadtoomuch honor todoit,but Garrettwouldpullthetriggerinaheartbeat. Heprobably shouldhavetaken him out first, now that he thought of it.

It was too late now, considering there was also the surprising factor of the fact that he had been gut shot and was going to die aslow, painful death if Garrettdidn'tdoitfast.Hepreferredfast.Itwouldn'tbedifficulttoget Garrett angry and make him lose his temper, and then ... sweet oblivion.

Henninger's lipstwitchedinaslow,amusedsmile."You'vethought aboutwhathappenswhenIdie,haven'tyou?"heaskedinaweak,pained voice. Hewould wineither way, even indeath. "Noonewillbelieve you. You'll become Suspect Number Onewithout Gradytobackyouup,"hesaid withaquietconfidence. "Howwillyoulivewithknowing thatitwasn'tlove thatmadeyousodesperatetofindhim?"heaskedasheopenedhisblack eyes."Howwillyouremainsober?" heaskedwithadisdainful sneer. "Knowingit's only self-preservationthat's making you so desperate?"

Zane's face went verystillashisemotions settled into solid certainty, momentarily blocking outthepain.Heusedthegunbarreltonudge Henninger's chinupsohecouldseehiseyes,andheputthegunbacktothe other man's forehead. Then he smiled coldly.

Henninger's eyesflickeredopen,filledwithasuddendoubtthat quickly faded back intothedepths. Outofthem all,Garrett hadturned outto bethebiggestproblem forhim;likeachameleon whocouldn't decideonhis color.Hehadbeenpredictable atfirst,butthenhadbeguntochangetothe pointthatHenninger couldn'tdecidewhattodowithhim.Evennow, Henninger wasn'tsurewhattodowithhim.AsGarrettlooked downathim, Henninger could feel, for the first time, the possibility of defeat creeping in on him.

Zanestoodanddrewasteadybreathtospeak."Luckily,youdon't have to worry about that," he said softly, and then he pulled the trigger.

Henninger'sbody jerked and thumped to the floor. Gathering himself, Zanewentovertothewindowtosearchforthesignalblocker.Finally,he founditandyankedthecordoutofit,thengrabbed thephoneoutofRoss's limphandandhitbuttons withhisthumbasheswayed dangerously. Hesank tohiskneesashisentirerightsidethrobbedandburnedviciously.Thecall wasansweredimmediately. Zanegavethecodesforofficersdownand perpetrator down,andthenthelocation tothebestofhisknowledge before tossing the phone onto the coffee table, still open so it could be traced.

Painfully, hepushedhimselftohiskneesandcrawledtocheckRoss forapulse.Grimacing whenhefoundnone,Zaneshiftedawkwardly and moved toSears.Shewasgonetoo.Hehung hishead,anagonized whimper escaping. Helookedbackatthemurderer's body.Noneedtocheckapulse there.Thefeelingofgrimsatisfaction gavehimthestrengthtograbforthe bookhe'dleftinthearmchair. Theanswerwasinthere,somewhere. Hefelt sureHenninger hadthoughtofTyasanothervictim,notjustsomeone inthe way.Sitting theresprawled onthefloor,hestartedpaging through itagain, shaking as he prayed it would give him some clue.

"Fuck all,"hehissed toward thebody. "God, please ...Ty ..." he whispered ashekeptturning,storyafterstory,anguishencroaching asno inspirationhituntilhecouldn'tholditoffanymore.Itgrippedhimhard,and hecurledinonhimself,hottearsslippinglooseanddottingthepages.He could hardly think through the pain and loss of blood.

Defeated, helooked upatHenninger's body. Blood wasmatted inhis hair.Ty'sblood?Morestainedhishands,alongwithtracesofwhatlooked likegritanddustfromwherehehadlainontheconcrete oftheparking deck.

He must have taken Ty down with chloroform—becauseZane knew Ty wouldhavehurthimbadlyifhehadtriedsomeothermethod—hidden him away,thenhithimselfintheheadjusthardenoughtomakebloodflow.All he hadto do waslay on the groundpretendingto be unconsciousuntil someone found him.

ThetearsgavewaytoanillresignationasZane'seyescontinued downthekiller'sbody,lookingforsomehint.Henninger hadbeenonhis knees and fallen backward,his heels pushing to one side as he had died.

Ittookalongmoment forZanetoregister whathewasseeing. The bottomsofHenninger's dressshoeswerecoveredingritty,graymud.Itwas groundintothetreadsandcoveredtheinsteps.Zanepulledhimselfcloser, almostoutofenergy. Reaching outslowly, Zanedrewshaking fingers down thesole,andtheycameawaycovered withthick, dampmud. Hestared atthe dead body. They were inthecity, andithadbeen dryallweek. Where would he find fresh mud?

"They even kept the original tunnels below the building intact..."

"Jesus," Zanehissed, grabbing forthebook,ignoring thegrittymuck coming offhishandonto thepages. Hefound whathewaslooking for: "The Cask of Amontillado."

"Jesus!" Lurching tohisfeet,Zanecollapsed againwithaharshcry,catching himself on the couch's arm with his good hand. He was too weak, and he hurt sobadly hecould barely tolerateit.He focused ontheone thing hecould. Ty. Tywouldbegoingcrazy, stucksomewhere smallandinthedark,likeinthe story.

He needed something to pump him up until he could get to Ty. Stumbling intothebedroom,hemadeittothenightstand andswiped up the bottle Tyhad given him. Pulling the top off, he saw the caplets marked OC inside and shook them all out onto the bed. Ten pills. Without a thought to thedosage, hescooped upahandful, tossed theminhismouth, andstarted chewing. Thedry,sharpchemicaltastefilledhissenses whenheswallowed, andhepushed himself outtothefront room againandfound hisgunandthe bloodyknife.HegrabbedSears'sgunforgoodmeasureanddrewadeep breathashefeltthefirstwaveofdrug-induced energy.Hewovedangerously asheheaded tothedoor, thedrugs already taking effect since he'd bypassed thetimereleasebychewing them up.Bythetimehegottotheelevator, the high was rushing through him.

"I'mcoming,Ty,"hemurmuredtotheclosingelevatordoors."I'm coming."

Tystruggled and called out for help until his voice was hoarse and his abused wristsweredripping blood downhisarms.Thechainsheldfast,though, and nothing but the flicker of the candle noticed his distress.

Soonhefoundhimselfhyperventilating, andheforcedhimselfto breathe slowly in a desperate attempt to calm. He would surely die if he didn't remaincalm.Heclosedhiseyes,butrealized immediately thatthedarkness feltheavier without thelightofthecandle. Heopened them andstared longingly atthebricks. Theyweresocloseinthesmallspace, butstill unreachable.

TimHenninger—and Tywasstilltryingtogethismindaroundhow horriblyhehadmisjudgedthekid—hadlefteverythingincriminating inside Ty's tomb with him. His plastic protectivegear, his tools, the bucket of drying mortar, andprobably thecruelest ofall,thekeystoTy'sshackles, justoutof reach on the ground.

Tylooked backatthecandle withagrowing senseofcalm.Hewas goingtodiehere.Inthedark.Heswallowed pastthetightening ofhisthroat andwatchedthecandle.Theflamehadweakenedalarmingly,andnowits circleoflightdidn't even reachTy's feet.AsTywatched it,theflamewent blue, stuttering in the growing darkness.

Ty took in a deep breath of the stale, damp air.

Hisheadshotupatthesound ofavoice echoing faintly ontheother side of the wall. Was he hallucinating?He could have sworn that he'd heard a shoutsomewhere inthedistance.Hestaredatthebrickwallinfrontofhim, shakingconvulsively withcoldandencroaching shock.Athisfeet,thetiny flame spit and flared violently, then sputtered one last time and died.

He tried to call out for help, but his voice was gone.

Thedesire tosimply close hiseyesandletsleep take him over was almostoverwhelming.Ty cockedhis headas he heardthe soundagain. "Zane," he whisperedto the hallucination,the sound barely a word as his head spun and he gasped for the nearly nonexistentair.

Zaneemerged intothedarkened basement, litonlybyacouple ofbare, hanginglightbulbs.Hewasshakingagain,thistime withmanicenergy insteadofpainandexhaustion. Thedrugs hadtakenholdquicklyand adrenalineandchemicalsshotthroughhisbodyatwarpspeed.Hewalked pastthelargefurnace,lookingaroundquickly,guninhishand.Hehadno ideaifHenninger hadanaccomplice ornot.Hecameuponalong,ill-lit hallwaythathaddoorways covered bychain-link fenceoneachside.Storage units.

"Ty!"Zaneyelled,hisvoiceechoingthroughthelargespaceashe moved down the hallway. The echo was the only thing that answered his calls. Finally, he spotted adarker hole in thewall atthe end of the hallway, one that wasn't lit at all. Tunnels, Henninger had said.

Zanecouldn'tseeintotherough-hewnpassageway,andhequickly started patting his jacket pockets and found his lighter. Thank God he'd talked Tyoutofmakinghimstopsmoking. Annoyed withtherestraining sling,he pulled hisarmoutofitanddropped it,thenhelduptheflaming lighter and looked down at the dirt. It was gray, just like Henninger'sshoes.

"Ty!"heyelledagain,headingintothecatacombs,bypassingthe insets filled merely with old crates and constructiondebris.

Walking inlongstrides, hurtarmraised toshelter theflame,Zane almost keptgoing before henoticed thathehad passed aspace ofwallwhere aninsetshouldhavebeen.Backtracking,hisheartplummetedashesawa square of clearly new brick in the wall.

"Ty... Ty!" heyelled, running totheinsetandtouching thewall. The mortar was wet. Hepulled outhisknife and started prying atabrick withone hand and pushed itin. He heard itthump to theground inside the littlealcove, accompaniedby the rattle of plastic. Then he dislodgedanother, and another.

From inside there was a clank of chains and a soft groan.

Zane frantically started pulling atthebricks, easily ignoring how they scraped andcutintohishands. Thebricks reluctantly pulled loose; themortar wasclosertosettingthannot.Whenhehadaroughopening,Zaneleaned over with the lighter.

"Ty?" he rasped, pulse pounding with adrenaline.

Tywas strapped to the wall ofthe tiny alcove, his hands stretched out tothesides andabove his head, blood running down them andclotting athis wrists.Hisfeetwerespread shoulder-width apart,shackled tothewallsothat hecouldn't evenkickout,andarope around hischestkepthimfromsagging forward.Everywheretherestraintstouchedhim,therewasblood.Hishead was bowed, his chin resting on his chest, and his fingers hung limplyfrom his shackled hands.Hedidn'tmove,butasmallgroantoldZanethathewasstill alive. Barely.

Glancingaroundinsidethe alcove,Zanesaw the plasticand the bucket ofmortar. Hecursed under hisbreath before seeing thecandle anda rustedsetofironkeys."Thatsonofabitch," hebreathed. Leaning overthe bricks, hereached tolight thecandle sohecould pocket thelighter andstart digging atthe bricks again. The drugs filtering through his system built up his manicconcern,andheworkedfeverishly,heedlessofthepainorhisever-increasingheartrateandlight-headedness. Oncetheholewasbigenoughthat he could get a leg in and duck under, he did so, which put him right up against hispartner.Therewasn'tmuchroom.Therewouldn'thavebeenmuchair, either, and just standing there made him claustrophobic.

"Ty?" he whispered, gently cuppinghis chin and raising it, praying he wasn't too far gone. Ty's head was heavy in his hand. But another groan came from his cracked, dry lips and he stirred.

Breaths harsh, Zanecarefully lowered Ty'schinbeforemoving to graspforthekeys hehadseenlying ontheground. Fussing andcursing the locks,hestartedwithTy'sfeet,thenmovedtounlocktheshacklesonone bloody and cut-up wrist.

He'dstruggled,Zanenotedwithalurchofhisstomach.Oh,Lord, he'dstruggled.Zane'shearthurtwiththemereideaofhowhardTymust havefought tocutinto hiswrists andchest likehehad.When Ty'sbody sagged, Zanedrapedthefreearmoverhisshoulder andfoughttounlockthe lastshackle.Theothermancollapsedagainsthim.Tryingtopullhimfree, though, Zanecouldn't gethimawayfromthewall.Hefingered therope,and withagrowl pulled outoneofhisknives andcutthrough it.Glancing tothe uneven hole, he gathered Ty against him and turned them both toward it.

"Zane," Ty breathed pitifully, the tortured sound barely audible.

Thesound ofhisnamealmost toreZane's heart out."I'm here, baby. I'm getting you out of here," he promised.

Tyseemed tobecoming around, gasping atthestaleairasifitwere thesweetest thing hehadevertasted. "Areyoureal?"heasked Zane ashe tightened his weak grip. His words were hardly recognizable.

Zane'slaughwastingedwithalittledesperation."Yeah.I'masreal asitgets,"heanswered, stopping atthebricks.Hedrewseveralfastbreaths, gritted histeeth, andliftedTytotallyfrom theground. Hemoved veryslowly andcautiously tostepoverthebroken wall,setting hisfeetamongst the tumbled bricks, where he stumbled.

Ty's feet hitthe uneven ground asZane sethim down, and hesank to hishandsandknees."Henninger," hegaspedashisheadswam."It's Henninger," hesaidurgently, hisvoice stillhoarse andabused from theharsh chloroformand the desperate shouting for help.

Collapsing tohiskneesbesidehim,bothofZane'shandshitthe ground inanattempttocatch himself. Thejarring didn't hurt, and neither had thelifting.Instead,hefelthot,dizzy,andlight-headed. Hispulseraced dangerously,andhisgutburnedwithnausea.Hewasbuzzingallover.He knew what was happening.

"Dead. He'sdead," Zanebitout viciously ashetried toremember when he'dlasteatenanything solidandhowmanyofwhatkind ofpillshe'd taken.Therehadbeenawholehandful,buthismemoryseemedbrightand fuzzy.

Tyblinkedattheman,bothofthemontheirhandsandkneesand lookingasifthey'djustlostthefightratherthanwonit.Heswallowed and nodded, unabletothinkofanything tosayasconfused reliefwashed through him.

Zane curled hishand around Ty's, looking upwith glazed eyes. "I've gottogetyououtofhere,"hesaidroughly asanother strong swell of adrenalineandhazeswampedhim.Hejustbarelyquelledtheimpulseto laugh hysterically."Runningout of time."

"What's wrong with you?" Tyasked. Hisheadwasclearing andhe was beginning to actually function once more. "Did he hurt you?"

Zanemanaged toshakehisheadandclimbawkwardly tohisfeet, helping Tyupaswell,andtheyleaned heavily oneachother astheystarted moving toward the dim light. Zane was sweating now, and his arms and hands wereclammy andtrembling evenwhereheheldTytightly. "AfterItookhim out, I could hardly move. I took the pills you left me so I could find you."

"All of them?" Ty asked in horror.

Zane actually laughed: a high, thin noise totally unlike him.

"You've overdosed," Tymurmured. "Fuck," he groaned as he tried to gatherhisstrength andtakemoreofZane's weight. Hestumbled withthe attempt.

Managing aweakchuckle, Zanetriedtoholdon,buthisentirebody wasshakinguncontrollably. "I'vehadworse."Notreally,though..."Hadto gethere.Hadtofindyou."Helurchedtothesideasdizzinesshithim,and bothmenfelltotheirknees,neitheronestrongenoughtofullysupportthe other. "You were in the dark."

They stayed there wallowing for too many moments before Ty pushed himself upandgrabbed Zane's uninjured armtopullhimtohisfeet weakly."Comeon,"hemurmured. "IthoughtI'dneverseedaylightagain;I can't die in here with you now."

Zanelaughed again."Daylight. I'vealreadygotstarsinmyeyes,"he drew out as he stumbled along beside Ty. He swallowed hard as they emerged into the basement."Ty..." he gasped weakly.

"Don't,"Tygrowledalmostangrily,hiskneesweakandhishands numb from being withoutblood for too long. "Don't you dare."

Jerking away,Zaneturnedandfelltohiskneestoretchviolently, too farintothedrugstobeembarrassed orconcerned. Allhecoulddowastryto breathe. Behind him, Ty sagged to his knees again, unable to remain standing. Hebowed hisheadandshivered. Afteramoment heforced himself upagain and pulled Zane to his feet with difficulty.

"Ineedyou,Ty,morethananything," Zaneadmittedhoarselyasthe elevator came into sight.

Tyclosed hiseyes, leaning against Zane andrallying withthe unexpected words.Hetookmoreoftheotherman'sweightonhimselfand practically dragged his gasping partner toward the doors of the service elevator.Bythetimehemanagedtogettheminsideandrisingtowardwhat he prayed would be help, Zane was no longer breathing.