“Alisssss . . .” It wasn’t Geryon’s voice. Static buzzed and popped, drawing the word out into a hiss. “At lassssst . . .”

The metallic sphere bent, twisted, as though something were pushing on it from the inside, and the face vanished. The air was hot and tasted of ozone, and bolts of lightning flickered between the sphere, the desk, and the walls.

Then, when the phantom sound had convinced Alice that her head would pop like an over-inflated balloon, it all stopped at once. The sphere shrank to a point above the book, then disappeared, and the trap-book snapped itself shut and landed neatly in the chair where Geryon had been sitting. The lightning vanished, leaving only scorch marks on the furniture. Alice slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, her legs suddenly too weak to support her.

It . . . worked? She blinked. Did it work? What was that other voice?

But it must have worked. If Geryon had escaped, he’d already have torn her limb from limb. It worked. It worked! He was stuck, trapped where he couldn’t hurt anyone until she chose to let him out. I got him!

“That,” she said in a weak voice, “is what you get for hurting my father.”

She’d imagined saying that would be more satisfying.

The outer door of the study opened. Mr. Black rushed in, with Ashes hot on his heels.

“What in all the hells was that?” the big servant yelled. “Master? Girl?”

“Alice?” Ashes said.

“I’m here,” Alice said from her position by the side of the door. She struggled to her feet.

“What happened?” Mr. Black said. “Where’s the master?”

“You felt it?”

“Of course I felt it,” Mr. Black said. “I should think everyone within a thousand miles who has an ounce of magic in them felt that.”

“It was rather hard to ignore,” Ashes said. “Was Geryon here?”

“He . . . was.” Alice thought very quickly. “He was investigating that book. I think . . . there must have been some kind of accident.”

“Oh, no.” Mr. Black’s face, as much of it as was visible behind his wild hair, went pale. “Oh, that’s not good.”

“I’m going to take it to Ending,” Alice said, snatching up the trap-book. She could feel the spell inside it now, humming away, power crackling across her fingers. “She’ll know what to do.”

“Wait,” Mr. Black said as Alice ran past him, book clutched to her chest. “You can’t trust that bloody cat, not if the master’s gone! Alice!”

Alice shook her head, running out into the yard without bothering to fetch her coat. Ashes kept pace beside her, for once not complaining about the snow. They ran together to the bronze door of the library, and Alice wrenched it open, hinges squealing in protest.

For the first time Alice could remember, Ending was there in the anteroom, yellow eyes ablaze.

“You felt it too?” Alice said.