Mira collapsed to her knees, trying to pull another thread. Her mind felt fuzzy. Thinking was like trying to pick up a grain of sand with swollen fingers.

Without her air magick to shield them, the Coven witches she'd come in with were unprotected. There was a strained moment of silence after the applause before chaos let loose around her.

A man walked toward her. The cacophony surrounding her faded until she could hear only his leather shoes on the polished floor. They seemed to echo in her mind. He stopped in front of her, and she glanced up with effort.

Stefan.

He walked around her once more, humming the song "Behind Blue Eyes," and obviously enjoying her helplessness.

Oh, please.

Rage bubbled up within her, but it was impotent. She couldn't reach her magick. He'd drugged her with something that made it impossible for her to access her seat. She felt numb, slow. She couldn't move her limbs. Even now her ability to move her head was fading. Mira tried to speak, and only an incomprehensible gurgle came from her throat.

Stefan laughed low. It was a beautiful laugh, like rich velvet whispering over her skin. "Did you think that air magick was invincible, ma jolie sorcière?' He clucked his tongue. "A witch is only as good as her ability to wield her power. That means even a witch such as you can be defeated. You gave us a nice surprise today, however. I will give you kudos for that.”

He resumed his humming, allowing her to witness what was happening in the lobby. Around her the Coven witches fell to the Duskoff one by one. Craig went down. Then Brian. Then James.

Rock. Paper. Scissors.

Stefan forced her to watch it all to the irritating sound of his circling footsteps and his little song.

Her thought process seemed sluggish and confused, though her mind seemed to be growing a little clearer with every passing moment. Even though she wanted to, she couldn't fight when Stefan pulled her to her feet and picked her up, cradling her in his arms like a lover. Her skin tried to get up and walk away without her at the intimate touch of him against her body.

"I do not like it when people try to hurt William Crane, Mira," Stefan whispered as he bore her through the lobby toward the elevator. "He is the only father I know. Therefore, I understand your desperation to help your godmother. I do not fault you for it.”

Well, that was a load off her mind.

They traveled up to the fortieth floor, and he carried her down the empty corridors of Duskoff International, past the gleaming silver and gold of the offices and receptionist areas, and into a long boardroom. A wet bar and mirror lined one side and a long table with swivel chairs dominated the center. The windows looked out on the New York City skyline.