With short, jerky movements, she pulled the rest of the rope around her ankles free and hurled it across the room with a bellow of pure frustration. That task accomplished, she slid from the couch and grabbed the heavy crystal sculpture from the table near her. Hugging it to her chest, she prowled the room, looking for a way out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

TWENTY-SIX

THOMAS WOKE WITH THE STENCH OF DEMON MAG ick in his nostrils and his cheek against something hard and cold. He pushed up, grit digging into his palms, and groaned at the pain shooting through his thigh.

When his eyes flickered open he glimpsed the interior of what seemed to be a cell in the dim light. An iron door with bars at the top. Concrete floor and walls. Ratty, folded-up blanket to serve as a bed.

He raised magick, power flickering over his tattoo and down his arms, tingling the base of his skull. It came weak and sluggish because of his injuries, even in this place where his magick was more powerful. All the same, the pavement near his head pulsed as he manipulated it.

Good. This place wasn’t like Gribben.

A footstep sounded to his left. That’s all the warning he got. A booted foot struck his injured side and Thomas’s world went white hot with pain. He grunted, nearly tossed his cookies, and held onto consciousness with every last shred of willpower he possessed. Unconsciousness now could very well mean his death.

“We have your female,” came a heavily accented voice. “If you cooperate, we will not hurt her.”

Isabelle. Shit.

Thomas forced himself to turn over onto his stomach, agony spearing down his thigh and through his middle. At least that pain wasn’t a quarter as bad as when the speaker had kicked him. He forced himself to focus upward, seeing a blond man staring down at him. “What do you want from us?”

“Why have you come to ally with the Atrika?”

He frowned. “The what?”

“Your female tried also to feign ignorance, but we know that’s why you’ve come. That’s the only reason any aeamon comes here.”

His mind whirled at the influx of information. Did that mean witches had come here before? No, warlocks, most likely. Not witches. Had they achieved it?

Thomas’s vision blurred. He blinked and the demon came back into focus. “We came here accidentally. When we fought Boyle with copper, the spell he was cooking to open a doorway became unstable. We were caught in the maelstrom.” He drew an unsteady breath, feeling lightheaded. “There is no attempt on our part to ally with any Atrika.” Whatever the hell that was.