A gaggle of Luther’s colleagues gathered in the room. I had walked him through the djinn ground-state theory and he had explained it to them. The reactions were mixed to say the least. Voices floated to me.

“You do realize that if this works, we’ve found a cure for ghoulism.”

“Yes, but the cure is worse than the disease. We can’t run around the countryside turning ghouls into djinn.”

“Technically they are already djinn.”

“That’s beside the point.”

“We have no idea what they are capable of.”

“What’s in the vial?”

“Are you saying we shouldn’t do it?” Luther asked.

“No,” a woman said. “I’m saying that it’s illegal, dangerous, and possibly unethical, but we should definitely do it.”

“Yes, what Margo said.”

“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

“Just as an experiment.”

Mages.

“How do you feel about her doing this?” That had to be Mahon. That low-pitched growl could only come from him.

“We let each other be who we are,” Curran said. “I don’t have to like all of the things she has to do. I love her.”

I love you, too. Just keep this in mind after you see what I am going to do.

I drew the final circle around the glyphs. Wards came in all varieties and this one wasn’t a containment; rather it functioned like a mirror, focusing any magic entering the ward on the creature within it.

Mitchell looked up at me. “Hurry.”

I picked up the beaker of the trimethyl borate and poured it over him, saturating the triangle on the floor.

“She does know it’s flammable, right?” someone asked.

I picked up the vial of my blood and pulled out the cork.

“Drink this when I say.”

He stretched his clawed hands to me.

“There is still time to step back,” I told him.

Mitchell took the vial with his claws.

I struck a match. “Now.”

He gulped the blood. I let the match fall into the ward. Emerald-green flames surged up. Mitchell spun around thrashing, his skin blistering, screaming. I focused my magic on him and felt the magic amplify it. My blood burned through him, sliding down his throat, deep into the pit of his stomach, and awakened a weak spark of fire. I reached for it, as it bathed in my blood, and whispered a power word.

“Amehe.” Obey.

The shock of it tore at my mind. Agony ripped through me. The world turned hazy. I fought it, trying to keep hold on the flame inside Mitchell’s body. If I let my grip slip, it would be all over.

Behind me Curran snarled. Yes, I used a power word. Sue me.

The haze melted. I staggered, but Doolittle’s repairs to my brain must’ve held, because I was still me.

Mitchell was still screaming. His skin sloughed off, his raw flesh hissing in the fire.