The basement of Bianca's mansion. A classic. Harry had been captured by the Red Court, a chunk of his magic already taken by the Nightmare, and deadly nightshade slowly digesting in his stomach. Every nerve was on fire, either from pain, or from the narcotic saliva of his captors. He was bleeding from a hundred, a thousand petty cruelties, only one bad bite. Apparently the toxin had gotten into his bloodstream by now, and the vampires couldn't feed on him.
It didn't mean they couldn't still hurt him.
Any minute now, he would be tossed into the new cell. The one with Justine and Susan. Susan, half-turned, her memories of him stolen by his meddling godmother. His Susan, beautiful and wonderful and hungry.
Harry was already fighting back against the nightmare. His fingers ended in sharp talons that he used to claw and fight off the vampires from him. His magic came at his call to incinerate their bones. But he didn't want to go into that cell. He didn't know if he could see Susan like that again.
"I've got to get some new material," he told himself.