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He swung his fist and it went right through the glass with an ease that surprised Vadim. Cold air rushed through the hole, and the rest of the window simply gave way, sending slivers of glass exploding in all directions. Even as he instinctively covered his eyes, Vadim was moving forward. He grabbed for Brad’s skinny, tattooed ankle, but Brad slipped from Vadim’s grasp, throwing himself forward into the night.

Vadim came down hard on his knees and shards of glass pierced his skin. Why hadn’t he been able to keep hold of the man? What malign magic had held him at bay? From below came the sound of screaming and the wail of an ambulance. He pushed himself upright and looked out of the window. Brad lay sprawled on the unforgiving ground just in front of the ER, surrounded by a cluster of people who were either running around like ants or looking up and pointing.

“Are you okay, Morosov?”

He looked over his shoulder to see Ella advancing cautiously toward him.

“Stay over there, Ms. Walsh. There’s glass everywhere.”

She ignored him and came across to his side. She looked out of the window.

“Shit,that happened so fast!”

“I couldn’t stop him.” Vadim stared down at the scene below them, which was now being dealt with by the hospital staff and the authorities. “It was as if my magic bounced off.”

“You’re bleeding.” She touched the corner of his mouth. “Maybe it did. Maybe that dude Adam got to Brad while we were having dinner.”

Vadim swore softly and walked toward the door, glass falling from him like raindrops. Two of the hospital security team pushed past him and surveyed the ruined room and began to take pictures. He paused by the empty chair outside the door.

“Where’s Delia?”

She seems to be in a trance. No one can wake her.”

“Perhaps I should go and see her.”

Ella grabbed his sleeve. “Hold up. You haven’t told me exactly what happened here yet.”

“Isn’t it obvious? You said it yourself. Someone got in here and killed our patient.”

“Did Brad say anything to you? I thought I heard him shouting when I was coming back along the hallway.”

Vadim let out his breath. “He said an SBLE doctor told him he would never regain his true face even after plastic surgery.”

“What?”

He got out his handkerchief and dabbed at the blood now dripping from his lip. “Someone got in here, convinced Brad his life was worthless and set him free to kill himself.”

“And by someone, I assume you mean Adam.” She took his injured hand and he sucked in a breath. “Come on, we need to see the security footage and get you fixed up.”

“But what about Delia?”

“She’s being guarded by SBLE security. I doubt they’ll be quite as easy to fool. You can go and see her in a minute.”

He allowed himself to be marched down to Ms. Phelps’s office and sat in a chair while they waited for Mr. Feehan and the police. Jose came to check out the state of his hands and face and applied warm cloths to his skin and then a thin layer of white glue, which he peeled off after it set, bringing most of the tiny splinters with it.

“I think you’ll be okay now, Vadim.” Jose rose to his feet. “When you get home, take some painkillers and have a long bath. That should loosen any other pieces. If you see any reddish or swollen sites, come back. You might have an infection.”

“Thanks, Jose.”

“You’re welcome.”

He was quite capable of healing himself, but in present company, he didn’t want to draw attention to his magical powers. Frustration boiled under his skin. He felt far too exposed. Had he spent so much time controlling his powers in this world that they wouldn’t respond to him any more? Feehan arrived, his thin hair blown wildly around by the wind, a smudge of red sauce on his knitted sweater.

“Are you all right, Vadim?”

“I’m fine. I can’t say the same for poor Mr. Dailey.”

Feehan took the seat opposite him. “What happened?”