Sodding hell. So much for working in the shadows. In a few moments, Hugo’s bodyguard and the bouncers would be in here. Her heart raced, heat blazing from her hand. If she didn’t control herself, she’d be lighting something on fire. Or worse—she’d be lighting someone on fire. She glanced down at her hands, at the black smoke curling from her fingertips.

Then it came to her. She rushed to the door, gripping the doorknob. She closed her eyes, willing the heat from her hand into the metal. It was just enough to warp the latch shut.

Someone banged on the door, shouting and trying to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t open.

Okay. I’ve locked myself in. But how was she supposed to get out? There were windows over the urinals, but they were sealed shut. And even if she could break one, she was fifteen stories up. She hadn’t exactly brought a parachute. Magic. I need to use magic.

She grabbed a bottle of cologne and a matchbook from the attendant’s tray. Gripping the bottle, she smashed off the top on the steel edge of the sink before pouring it on the floor in the shape of Emerazel’s sigil. She struck a match and dropped it. Flames blazed around her.

What was that transportation spell Kester had chanted? He hadn’t taught it to her. Bollocks bollocks bollocks.

An authoritative voice boomed through the door. “Is she still in there?”

She closed her eyes. It’s in my brain, somewhere. In her mind’s eye, she was back in the stone circle. Kester held her against his chest. She could almost feel his heartbeat next to her cheek. He’d intoned the strange magical words about a portal of fire, and Emerazel’s grace. She repeated after him, and the spell slipped from her tongue, as though she’d known it all her life—which, perhaps, she had.

The bodyguard pounded on the door, shouting. But the fire was raging all around her, and she dissolved into ash.

Chapter 17

Ursula blazed into the sigil room before doubling over with a coughing fit. Hot soot seared her lungs, and her body burned with preternatural pain. I really need to remember to hold my damn breath. At least she’d escaped the club in one piece. Granted, she didn’t have Hugo’s signature on the pact, and she’d left Zee behind, but neither was she in handcuffs in the back of a police cruiser.

Footsteps sounded in the hall, and Kester appeared at the doorway. “What happened? How did you get here?” He paused, sniffing. “Did you douse yourself in cologne?”

She’d never thought the sight of his strange green eyes would be a relief. “Sigil spell. Forgot to hold my breath.” She wiped tears from her smoke-stung eyes. “And I had to use Giorgio Armani as the accelerant.”