The magic in me is snapping for the chance to do something, but I’m afraid to let it out. It doesn’t want to demolish just this vampire. It wants to turn this place to rubble. I feel like I’m holding the leash of a rabid animal.

The vamp jumps and suddenly I’m on the ground, and he’s on top of me with his full, sharp set of teeth snapping toward my neck. I barely have time to pull my arms up between us and push against his chest. He flies backward, and I blink, shocked.

Xander stands above me, grinning down like Batman’s Joker, the perfect counterpart to Cecily. He holds the vampire out by his collar as he twists and snaps. “You’re welcome,” he says to me with a wink, then plunges his stake into the vampire’s chest and drops him before he can even begin turning to dust. My hands are still in front of me, and he leans down and grabs one, yanking me to my feet. Xander stares after Lucius, cleaving his way through the battle. “He’s still alive.”

“I need him to kill Numerius,” I grit out.

“Good,” Xander says. Whatever he thinks about Lucius, I know he thinks Numerius is worse. He hasn’t had time to know a vampire. Regardless of what I’ve said, everyone here is just someone who killed his brother.

“Why aren’t you with the others?”

“Roman sent me after you.”

I give him a skeptical look.

“Don’t worry—that’s the first and last time I take orders from him.” He stakes another vamp, and I’m fairly positive he’s picturing Roman while he does.

And then we’re there, on the edge of the circle that surrounds Numerius.

He is a mess of burning flesh and scratches that heal almost as fast as Aristelle and Reina can inflict them. Piles of vines trap one of his arms, but his other arm holds Natasha by her throat. Her hands claw at his. Her eyes bulge. Beneath her flailing feet lies a pile of magicians. The pink hair of her brother sticks out from the bottom of the pile.

Knives protrude from Numerius’s body, and I do a quick count. It’s all of them. Roman doesn’t have any left. And Roman—he’s pulling himself off the ground. One of his arms dangles limply by his side. His leg seems bent at an odd angle, but he pulls himself to his feet, and it snaps itself back into place as he moves. Numerius doesn’t even see him. His eyes land on Lucius standing on the fringe.

“Are you going to participate this time?” Numerius asks.

“Do something!” I scream at Lucius. I didn’t let him live so he could pop some popcorn and watch, but that’s what he’s doing, and Numerius looks as calm as an actor playing pretend.