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Sybil wails at the order, and I cry out along with her.

The guard drops Dain and hustles over to Sybil, roughly grabbing my friend by the arm and prying her from the two remaining guards posted on either side of her. Sybil begins to shriek and flail. Fur sprouts from her skin before retreating back into her.

“You will not shift,” the sorceress commands, “nor will you fight back.”

Sybil cries out brokenly, a shiver racking her body as the order does something to her. The fact that Sophia’s words worked at all means my friend must be bonded to her again.

A hopeless sort of fury rises in me. Sybil had done so much to escape this woman and all for what, a day or two of freedom?

I slam my fist against the wall of the spell circle as I watch the guard drag my sobbing friend away.

The action catches Sophia’s eye, and she turns to me briefly. “Ah, yes, Selene. You made it. Just in time, too.” She follows my gaze to where I’m looking at Sybil. “Oh, don’t worry about her. I am a woman of my word, and I did promise that if you came, your friend’s life would be spared.” She flashes me a smile that’s more cruel than sweet. “So I shall spare it.” Sophia calls out to the retreating guard. “Make sure you first ensure the girl is healed and then get her appropriately dressed for the auction. She needs to look enticing, not like she’s been mauled by wolves.” Sophia gives me a conspiratorial look. “Though I hear she’s into that sort of thing these days.”

Sybil begins to shriek anew, and the sorceress stands there, listening to her cries, while the elevator dings in the distance. They continue until the doors hiss closed, and my friend is whisked away.

My cheeks are wet when Sophia turns her attention to Memnon’s sleeping form. She tilts her head, studying him briefly.

“Funny to think that the man who killed my”—Sophia’s voice catches—“so many of our men,” she corrects, “could look so vulnerable. What a waste,” she muses, seemingly to herself. To the guards who flank her, Sophia says, “Take the sorcerer to my brother immediately. Even though our captive is under spelled sleep, use extreme caution—he could wake at any point. I don’tneed to remind you that he killed dozens of people the last time he wasn’t happy.”

Memnon!I call out to him.Memnon, wake up!I push as much command as I can into those words, hoping that the bond might force him awake. But the sorcerer doesn’t stir as the guards break the chalk circle and grab him. One of them must be a mage because I see his red-orange magic pool around Memnon as the two heft my mate up by the arms.

Please, Memnon, I beg,wake up.

He still doesn’t stir.

The two guards cart the sorcerer away, the tips of my mate’s shoes squeaking as they drag across the marble.

“What is your brother going to do to him?” My voice comes out as a whisper.

“The same thing my father plans to do to you,” Sophia says. She tilts her head. “I hear you’ve been trying to solve the murders.” She gives me another cruel smile. “Congratulations. You’re about to.” She lifts a hand. “Sleep.”

CHAPTER 49

When I wake,I’m slumped between two guards who each have me by the arms. My feet drag uselessly behind me.

I lift my head and blink away the spelled sleep as we approach two ominous maroon doors with fancy golden handles. At the sight of them, a bolt of fear runs down my spine. I know intuitively that beyond them is the secret behind the murders, the mystery that not even Memnon has been able to figure out. I can feel the wrongness of whatever lies beyond.

I struggle against the guards’ hold, my magic surging up. I gather it in my hands?—

“Sleep.” Royal purple magic billows into my face, and the world goes dark again.

The sharp bite of pain right over my heart wakes me. I can feel warm blood welling from the wound when suddenly I’m tossed forward onto cold concrete, my body skidding across it.

I groan, blinking my eyes and trying to focus.

Another sleep spell.

I roll onto my back, and the movement causes the skin over my heart to sting. Absently I touch it, and my fingers come away bloody.

A hoarse, masculine voice begins speaking in Latin, their tone low. “By water and flame, earth and sky, I invoke the elements.”

Behind me, I can hear the sound of sand being poured from a bag.

What in the seven hells is going on?

I press my hands to the concrete floor and sit up. The room is dimly lit by several sets of wrought iron chandeliers, the warm glow of their lights illuminating the black walls of the cavernous room. Besides the light itself, there are precious few things in the room, save for the two men in front of me and the one coming around from my back.

The older of the two wears a brown tweed suit, his wiry white hair sticking up here and there around his head. He looks like an academic, with the exception of his eyes, which seem to dance darkly here in the dim light.