The bike fell to the right and spilled Isabelle to the pavement. They’d been going about fifty miles an hour and in the split-second before Isabelle made contact with the road, her mind went completely blank—totally clear. Then she hit. No pain exploded through her. Nothing but softness met her head and body as she slid and rolled across the road and onto the sidewalk.

Isabelle lay on her side, motionless and aware. Clearly, she’d gone into shock and that’s what had blocked the pain of the crash. If she looked down at her body now, she’d see blood, ragged flesh, and twisted limbs.

She decided not to look.

Instead she watched the bike scrape against the pavement, screeching in a fiery symphony of destruction down the middle of the street. Boyle went with it, his leg trapped under the twisted metal. The cycle came to a halt near the curb, the demon motionless.

Had she killed him? Was this nightmare finally at an end? She was still conscious. Did that mean she’d actually lived through the ordeal as well? Or was the numb coldness stealing through her body merely a precursor to death?

The sound of scraping metal once more filled the air. The motorcycle moved and Boyle shifted beneath it, groaning.

“No,” Isabelle whispered, lifting her head. “Oh, no.”

“Get up!” Thomas’s voice. Strong hands under her arms, lifting her. “Isabelle, get up! He’s not dead.”

“What?” She pushed to her feet and glanced down. No blood. Not even a scratch. Not even her clothing was torn. “What’s—”

“I cushioned your fall. Concrete is part of my dominion as an earth witch.” He hauled her down the street as he spoke. “We have to get you far from here in case Boyle recovers and comes after you.”

“Wait!” She pushed at him. “No, I can’t run.” Isabelle turned and headed back toward Boyle.

Thomas grabbed her and lifted her off her feet, carrying her up the street toward his still running car. “Have you lost your mind?”

She fought in his embrace. “No! You don’t understand. Let me go!”

“You can explain it when we’re five miles away, okay?”

Unable to break Thomas’s iron-strong grip any other way, Isabelle focused on the water in his fingers, hands and arms, forcing it to momentarily heat up. Thomas yelped and dropped her.

Isabelle tumbled to the ground and righted herself, struggling to her feet. “I can’t leave now. Boyle will pick another witch to take my place. Either he dies…or I die. I won’t allow this to happen any other way.”

Thomas stared at her for a moment before replying. “You made some kind of deal with Boyle? You either go willingly with him or he takes another witch in your place?”