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One was a young, pretty brunette whose hair was successfully trying to tumble out of an ill-fitting cap. And one an old battleax with closely cropped white curls who cursed a witch heading our way. And then turned around and did the same thing to a mage.

I stared at them, assuming that they were the women who had spoken to Morgan, but not really caring. Because something strange was happening to Mircea. Something very strange.

“She’s after the ring!” the old battleax said, her eyes on him, too.

“Of course, she is,” the brunette snarled, and jumped back into a crouch.

So did I, but I was no longer was sure what to do. My path out of here was clear, and I wouldn’t even have to drown for it. The street had turned into a battlefield, something that provided many openings for someone like me, who could defend herself long enough to get away.

But the vamp hadn’t abandoned me when he could have, and I didn’t like leaving him now. But I didn’t know what to do for him or even what was happening. Although that didn’t seem to be true for the two women.

“Get out of him, Morgan!” the battleax said. “You can’t possess a vampire and you know it!”

“Possess?” I said, looking from the women to Mircea, who was still on his feet but contorting painfully, with one hand on the ground and his body bent backwards and almost double.

But neither of them had time for me. However, I was not entirely new to magic, and it seemed that the spirit of the witch had somehow left her frozen body and was trying to possess his. I decided to test a theory.

I grabbed Morgan’s corpse, which wasn’t cold but was as stiff as a board under my hands. Not a problem; for what I planned it would do well enough. I pulled my knife and put it to her throat, and watched with satisfaction as a single bead of red dribbled down her skin.

“Mistress Morgan!” I yelled, loud enough to be heard over the battle. “Let him go, or I’ll cut your damned throat—and I’ll enjoy it!”

“What the—” The two women had been looking at Mircea, but now they whipped around to glare at me instead. The older one had spoken, but the younger looked angrier.

“Put her down!” she said, with the air of someone used to giving commands.

I thought that a bit much, considering that they were both dressed like the wives of middling merchants or not-so-successful lawyers—clothes cut well enough, with nothing frayed or stained, and made of good quality material. But hardly the silks and velvets of ladies. Yet the eyes that met mine were as haughty as a duchess addressing a peasant.

I decided I didn’t like that, and ignored her.

“Morgan!” I called again. “One last chance. Release him or die!”

“She won’t release him for that, girl,” the older woman said impatiently. “That’s not her body you’re threatening, any more than the vampire’s is. She stole it, and from an innocent woman at that. Press any harder, and you’ll be murdering someone whom that bitch has already victimized. Is that what you want?”

I didn’t completely follow all of that, and she had a strange accent, even for an Englishwoman. But I thought I understood enough. “Stole it? Then she’s a demon?”

“No.” She scowled. “Although she’s been taking lessons from one.”

I stared at her.

“Put her down!” the younger woman said imperiously. And then we all had to duck because a group of war mages had fought their way through the fray and were coming at us, sending a spray of battle spells ahead of them.

One hit an abandoned litter in the middle of the road that went up in an explosion of wood and leather. Another impacted a shop and started a fire that quickly ate its way up a wall. And a third hit a bunch of barrels like a giant fist, sending them flying all over the street.

But they didn’t hit us. The two women might not look all that impressive, but they could fight. As the older one demonstrated by throwing up a shield over the street that didn’t absorb the spells so much as deflect them back the way they’d come.

War mages scattered, cursing, or went down on one knee with their shields out in front of them, to take the hits. The younger woman, meanwhile, faced off with three mages at once, who had been coming from the other end of the road. I deposited the possibly living statue I was holding behind the counter of the shop, the owner of which had wisely fled, and turned to help her.

Only to discover that she didn’t need it. Because the three men, who had been approaching at breakneck speed, had suddenly slowed way, way down. And I didn’t think that was deliberate on their parts.

Their bodies were still posed as if running, with their long cloaks swirling out behind them. One had a spell boiling slowly in his fist and another was raising a crossbow—at approximately the speed that ice melts. It was extremely strange, even more so than the frozen witch, because I had seen immobilization spells before.

This wasn’t one.

The men weren’t reacting to the battle going on all around them or the sparks pelting them, and their hair was drifting at odds with the breeze. It was as if they had been caught in a different moment in time than the rest of us and was like nothing I’d ever seen. And I had seen a good deal.

I caught the younger witch’s arm. “What magic is this?”

“None of your concern!”