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The monster mechanically walks to a door behind Lia, then exits the room.

Lia reaches for her side and unsheathes a small blade. I stare at the gleaming steel, aware of what she intends to do next.

Memnon, I hate to be the damsel in distress, but I could really use you right now.

From the other end of our bond, I feel Memnon’s impotent rage.I’m sorry, sweet mate. I’m coming. Until then, mark our enemies. I vow to you their deaths will be slow.

By the time he reaches me, it might be too late.

“Normally, I like to do this at the coven with my bonded witches,” Lia says, tapping the blade against her palm. “There’s food and drinks and a small celebration. It’s civilized and fun.” She saunters toward my chair. “This will not be fun. I can’t even say how civilized it will be. Youwillhate me, that I’ll make sure of, but by then, you will be committed to me entirely,” Lia says.

A chill slides down my back at her words and the certainty in her eyes. I’d been too drugged and hurt earlier to feel real fear. But now it drips into my system.

I frantically reach for my magic again as she closes in on me. I can grab onto a few sluggish tendrils of it, but when I try to push it out, I sense only a thin stream leaving my hand, melting into the air mere seconds after I release it.

Fuck.

My legs aren’t tied to the chair, probably because they were twisted up too badly earlier. Her mistake. As soon as Lia’s within reach, I pull a leg back and kick her hard in the thigh.

She stumbles, nearly dropping her blade.

“Bitch.” Her magic swarms me, wrapping around my throat and choking me while magically binding my ankles to the chair. “I’m going to make you doawfulthings,” she vows. “Things you’ll abhor. Things that will make you want to crawl from your very skin.”

Terror congeals in my blood.

I reach for my magic again, but it’s useless.

Take my power,Memnon says, pushing his own through.

It hasn’t been working,I say despondently.

Try again anyway,he commands, a desperate edge to his voice.

When I coax his magic toward my center, it moves into me readily enough. The comfort of having this part of Memnon with me, inside me, takes the edge off my fear.

His magic swirls around my own power, mixing the two together, and when I direct Memnon’s magic down my arms, it goes where I call it, as though eager to please me. It even manages to drag my own magic along with it. But both of them stall at my palms. Not even a wisp leaves me this time.

Nothing still, I tell Memnon.

I only sense the barest breath of the sorcerer’s fear before he locks the emotion away. In its place is more power. He funnels it down our bond as though it might make up for the magical blockages.

Can you move?Memnon asks.Can you get ahold of a weapon?

My attention is ripped from him when the door behind Lia opens, and six individuals enter, followed by the clay creature.

Something’s happening,I say.I can’t talk.

I pull away from the bond as I study the newcomers. None of them wear masks like the last spell circle Lia presided over, and most of them are men with hard, unforgiving faces. I don’t recognize the two women in the group. They look older than most of the witches I go to school with.

There’s a flatness to all these supernaturals’ eyes, and intuitively, I know none of them will rescue me as I did Cara.

“I’m going to perform a binding,” Lia announces.

The group of six don’t speak, but they begin to remove their shoes and socks, setting them to the side of the room. Once they’re barefoot, they form a circle around me, with Lia at its head. The seven of them grasp hands, and then Lia begins to incant in Latin.

“I call on old magic and the darkness from deep beneath our feet. Lend us your power for tonight’s spellcasting. Our circle calls forth your magic.”

The hairs along my arms rise as I feel the spell circle form and the magical current rush around me from one arm to the next.