“The first bedroom?” he said, his gaze cold and altogether too watchful.

Tension crawled through me, but I forced a smile. “Yes. I think she’s taken something.”

“Emberly?” the inspector said. “Everything okay? You didn’t answer my question.”

I didn’t even hear her question. I forced a smile, then said, “No, sorry, it’s not.”

“We’ll get people there ASAP. Leave the line open.”

“Fine. See you soon.” I shoved the phone into my back pocket, but, as ordered, didn’t hang up.

“She conscious? Talking?” the first ambulance officer continued.

“No.” I stepped back again, giving him plenty of room to pass. The second man didn’t follow him; instead, he stopped and placed a hand on the door frame, effectively stopping me from leaving. And though I didn’t feel the wash of any sort of power, the charm at my neck sprang to life, its heat a warning that magic was being aimed my way.

“You related to the victim?” he asked, the faintest hint of a smile touching his thin lips.

Overconfidence had been the downfall of many a thug.

“No, I’m not.”

I threw a ball of fire sideways to catch his gaze, then took a step forward and kicked him hard in the nuts. As he gasped and doubled over, I swung a fist at his chin and smashed him sideways. He hit the wall hard enough to dent it, then collapsed in a heap on the floor.

Though I heard no footsteps, the warm rush of air past the back of my neck was warning enough that the other thug was closing in. I swung round but wasn’t quite fast enough. The blow hit me low in the stomach and sent me tumbling backward. I landed on my spine and slid backward for a yard or so, gathering splinters from the porch’s old boards. I swore and struggled to my feet, fire flickering across my fingertips, ready to defend or attack. Something hit my arm, and I glanced down to see a silvery dart sticking out of it.

Fuck.

I wrenched it out and reached for my fires, then heard a shout from the street and swung around to see two women watching me.

“You all right?” one asked.

No, I wasn’t, because they were there and that meant I dared not take on fire form and reveal what I truly was.

“Fine,” I muttered, and ran for the gate.

The thug didn’t chase me.

He didn’t need to.

I was out before I got anywhere near the front gate.

CHAPTER 8

The rise to consciousness was abrupt. One minute I was out; the next I was awake. It was the sort of abruptness that wasn’t natural, but rather the result of some sort of stimulant. I could feel it coursing through my body, making my heart race.

But worse than that was the sudden awareness that I wasn’t alone—that there were two others in the place with me. Both were male, and if their voices were any guide, they were very familiar.