“These windows have been rated for hurricane-force winds of up to one hundred twenty miles per hour,” he intoned. “They do not open from the inside.” He stepped closer, then heaved himself sideways, shoulder first, into one of the big plate glass windows. We all winced, expecting him to go bye-bye with a huge crash, but instead he practically bounced off, the glass not even cracking, and I thought, Holy crap. Or, actually, much worse than holy crap, but let’s just say I thought holy crap.

“The auction will begin in one hour,” Gozen said. “Food will be provided.”

“You know, he’s really a people person,” I said when he’d left.

“What auction was he talking about?” Gazzy asked, and I shrugged.

“No clue,” I answered, starting to walk around. The double doors to the room were metal, windowless, and had several locking bolts. Our captors definitely thought we were hot stuff, and I felt kind of proud of our bad reputation. Proud but really trapped.

“Now what?” Angel was still wan and pale, with dark circles under her eyes. There were chairs around a table, and I helped her sit in one.

“Iggy?” I said. He came closer, and with his incredibly delicate touch, he skimmed his fingers over her arm. “Is there anything you can do?”

“It’s really swollen,” he said, and I used every bit of my self-control to not say, “No duh!”

“It feels like a clean break,” Iggy went on. “Let me see . . . So to speak.” Very tenderly, he manipulated her broken arm.

Though Angel’s face got a little green around the edges, she made hardly a sound. I held her shoulders and sent her comforting thoughts, and then we all heard a tiny scrape and a clicking sound, and Angel relaxed a bit.

“Oh, that feels better,” she said. “Still really bad, but less bad. Thanks, Iggy.”

Iggy smiled, proud that he could contribute to the flock this way. I ripped up the lining of my jacket — wouldn’t be needing that here! — and made a stiff bandage to hold her arm in place.

“Now what?” Gazzy repeated Angel’s question.

“Fan out, check the perimeter,” I ordered.

Which took less than five minutes.

Everyone reported that the room seemed rock solid. The vents were too small for a house cat, there was only the one set of doors, and we had all seen the window demonstration.

“Maybe I can . . .” Nudge murmured, and she crouched next to one of the doors. She moved her fingers close to the locks and closed her eyes. “If I could make the bolts all line up . . .”

“Oh, so smart, Nudge,” I breathed, coming to crouch next to her. “Can you feel them?”

“I think so,” she said. “If my magnetism could — ow!”

There was a harsh crackle, and Nudge was jolted backward almost a foot. The residual electricity practically made my hair stand on end. Nudge was on her back, rubbing her hands.