“I am daughter of Brightstar. I am of the Coven of Lazarus, and I will command you, Demon. You do not belong here, and you must return to the Darkness.” So saying I swing around and run, full tilt toward the steaming fissure at the center of the circle. Fearing I will be swallowed up by it myself, the Master of the Chalice cries out a warning, but I am committed to my course. Behind me the demon, caught off guard, falls onto its side and is dragged back toward the circle. I leap into the air, bounding over the entrance to the pit, hauling hard on the Silver Thread as I do so. It seems as if I might succeed, but the demon is not finished yet. As it skitters past Violet it flings out a gnarled hand and grasps her ankle. Violet screams as the demon’s contact on her bare flesh burns her skin. The effect of the extra weight at the end of the rope is to halt me midleap, so that I drop abruptly, falling short of firm ground. I land with my upper body and arms on the daytime half of the circle, but my legs dangle into the foul-smelling opening in the floor. I can feel the heat from the depths singeing my bare feet. I find myself struggling wildly. Violet continues to scream. The Master of the Chalice has grabbed her and is using his considerable weight to prevent the demon from dragging her away, but its grip on her ankle does not loosen. As I fight to drag myself up from the pit, I notice my challenger remains unmoved by our plight, not even attempting to help Violet. Anger spurs me on. I twist the Silver Thread twice around my wrist. I am free from the hole now and able to reach the vial of bone dust, which I snatch up and hurl at the demon. The glass smashes against its chest, the fine powder spreading out in a cloud over its body. The creature roars and writhes, and releases its hold on Violet. Standing up, I pull hard on the rope, swinging the demon across the stones and toward the pit.

But the beast is not finished yet. It musters its strength and makes another lunge at Violet, grabbing hold of her hair. It regards me for the briefest of moments, its yellow eyes latching onto my gaze so that I see my own anguish reflected there. From the assembled company come one or two bursts of magic in an attempt to free my poor maid, even though whoever sends them knows they are breaking coven rules to intervene. However well-meant, their efforts are futile. Violet wails and struggles to free herself, but now the demon wraps his other arm around her neck and shuffles toward the opening in the ground.