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What do you think this one does?

Memnon tilts his head to the side.I don’t know, but there’s some dark magic involved in it.He points to a streak of black.

I step closer, studying the lines of what must be a curse.

Memnon reaches out and touches it.

Son of a swine, he curses in Sarmatian, his hand recoiling. I watch in horror as the skin along the back of his hand splits from the tip of his finger up to his wrist. The lines of the wound spread, branching out along the initial slice as they crawl up his forearm.

I catch his arm, my magic rushing out of my palm. “Begone poisoned death that corrupts the spirit.” The incantation comesout in English, not its original Mochica, but I say the spell with conviction. “With love, I destroy you.”

As I watch, the curse disintegrates, the oily magic burning away until all that’s left is a line of bilious smoke. My magic lingers for several more seconds, resealing the cuts and healing the open wounds.

When I look up, Memnon is staring wondrously at my lips.

You remembered the curse-breaking spell,he says.

I’ve got a decent memory now.

Abruptly, he leans forward and kisses me.Thank you.

I’ve only just tasted his lips when he pulls away.

Brace yourself.

He turns from me, and I only catch the spark of power in his eyes before he slams his fist into the crimson ward.

CRACK!

The ward shatters, the energy from it throwing me back. Memnon catches my arm and saves me from falling.

Two wards broken. If the Fortunas hadn’t been aware of an attack tonight, now they surely are.

We better move fast,the sorcerer says down our bond.

The two of us head to the elevators, and I slap the down button.

I gather my magic as I wait, sure that once the doors open, supernaturals are going to pour out of it. But when it dings open, it is ominously empty. There are no people, no wards—nothing at all beyond gleaming metallic walls and another set of doors at the back of the elevator.

This is too easy,I say.

Hmm,Memnon muses.

For the first time tonight, I sense the sorcerer’s misgivings.

Ready yourself, Empress. Our enemies know we’re here, and they’re waiting for us.

With that, Memnon strides into the elevator.

I hesitate only a split second longer, mentally preparing myself for whatever battle lies beyond these doors. Then I gather my courage and follow Memnon in.

The elevator is spacious and elegant, but once the doors close, I feel like I’m trapped in a coffin.

I stare at the floor numbers, eager to be out of this box. There are sixty-two numbered floors, plus some levels marked L and G and P that for the sake of time I have to assume are not of interest to us. Then there are the subterranean floors. Naturally, the building can’t just have one basement, it has to havethree. I panic and hit the buttons for them all.

Memnon arches a brow at me.

I’ve…got a plan.