“Tell us, and we’ll send you off to your trial as a well-treated prisoner,” added Maude. “Otherwise, we’ll put you back in that inert state.”

“It’ll take more than threats or parlor tricks to get me to tell you where she’s at.” Alicia shot me a malicious grin. “You might have caught me, but that’s one battle Sydney won’t win. You’ll never see that Moroi brat again.”

If she hurts Jill . . . Aunt Tatiana didn’t finish her threat, and she didn’t need to. Anger—fueled by my raging aunt—welled up in me, and I forcibly pushed it down, needing a cool head. “Enough games,” I said. I released her arms and redirected my spirit into compulsion. “Tell us where Jill is.”

Alicia’s eyes started to glaze over, her jaw going slack . . . then, amazingly, she shook it off. Her features hardened again. “I’m not that easy to control,” she said.

“She may have bolstered herself with potions,” Maude told me. Jackie had hinted at this as well, that Alicia might very well have given herself all sorts of magical protection, including against compulsion. “It won’t last forever. A few more days, and it should all be gone.”

I gritted my teeth and upped my spirit use. “No. We’re getting answers today.” With renewed magic, I focused on Alicia again. “Tell us where Jill is.”

Again, Alicia looked defiant, but this time she had more difficulty standing against me. “With . . . with the Warriors.”

“We know that,” I said. “Where? Where are they holding her?”

Trying to compel her was like trying to open a door that someone was pushing back against on the other side. Both of us were throwing all we had into it. Her will and whatever potion she’d taken were strong, but I believed my powers were stronger. Again, I increased the amount of spirit channeling through me, knowing that an average-willed person would have been bent to my will by now. Sydney’s warnings echoed back to me, about not going crazy with spirit use, but I pushed on anyway. We needed answers.

“Where are the Warriors holding her?” I demanded.

Alicia was visibly sweating now, fighting hard against my power. “In . . . in Utah,” she blurted out at last. “St. George. A compound there. But you’ll never get to her! You’ll never get through to her!”

“Why?” I asked, pushing hard with the compulsion. “Why?”

“Too . . . many . . . obstacles,” she said, pale and trembling.

“Tell me everything,” I ordered.

She remained obstinate, and I was ready to compel her even more. One tidal wave of spirit, and I was certain I could have her on her hands and knees, begging to tell me all she knew.

Do it! ordered Aunt Tatiana. Make her pay! Make her your slave!