They rode right up to the steps that rose to the wide front porch, the manse eerily still. So far as traps went, it wasn’t a subtle one. But then, the Sammaels had never been known for their guile. They tended to blast and bluster, getting their way through cruelty. Gabriel leapt down and, even at this extremity, took the time to help her down. Together, her hand tucked through his arm, they ascended the steps, Gabriel’s moon magic shimmering in a protective shell around them that she sensed more than saw, her own magic woven into it, also.

Silence reined, as if the manse itself held its breath, the ancient architecture humming in the back of her mind. Like their connection to the arcanium, but larger, more diffuse. Whatever had changed and grown between Gabriel and her, it seemed they’d be a long time exploring the parameters. For the moment, she imagined the Phel ancestors had gathered, ghostlike and shimmering, with long-ago magic, invested in the proceedings.

Gabriel nodded toward the library, and she acknowledged, fighting down the irritation and sense of violation at the thought that slimy Sergio had ensconced himself there. Gabriel flung open the doors so they banged hard against the flanking walls.

Sergio, lounging in one of their armchairs, facing the doors and clearly expecting Gabriel’s arrival, still jumped slightly, a hint of nerves crossing his face before he managed to assume his indolent pose again. “Why, if it isn’t the absent landlord,” he crooned, “come to deliver my property to me.”

Nic rolled her eyes at the obviously rehearsed line. “I belong to no one,” she replied, “least of all you.”

Sergio laughed. “We’ll see about that. Elal’s spies said you somehow ripped off the roof, but I didn’t believe it. How did you get inside House Sammael?” he demanded of Gabriel.

Gabriel smiled thinly. “I’m more powerful than you can imagine.”

“Or stupider, as you’ve walked right into my trap. Sabrina!”

Behind them, Sabrina slammed and locked the doors, putting her back to them with a sly grin. “You should’ve run while you had the chance,” she cooed. “Instead, you slunk back here thinking you’d be safe. How sweet of you to bring my toys right to me.”

Nic eyed her with disgusted pity. “You’ve read all the wrong novels if that’s the best dialogue you can come up with.” When Sabrina opened her mouth, a hiss forming, Nic cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Save it. I advise you to leave. The grownups have business, and this is no place for a child. Go back to school and see if you can learn something.” She actually said it kindly. Sabrina might be horrible, but she was also young, even younger than Alise, and—despite her scheming and tantrums—didn’t truly understand what she dabbled with.

Quite dumbstruck, Sabrina stared back at her. Probably few people had ever been unafraid of the little hellion. Deliberately, Nic turned her back on the teen.