Mira had eased away once they’d found Stefan and joined Annie and a few Coven witches of the three other elements in another part of the club. Together, the witches were creating a diversion. All four elements used at once made a magickal signature a lot like Claire’s. Knowing how much the Atrika hated Claire, they figured it would draw off Stefan’s muscle. They’d been right. Stefan’s daaeman guards jumped in less than a fraction of a second to investigate, leaving Stefan alone and unguarded.

Not quite vulnerable, though. They had to act fast, before Stefan realized what was going on.

The second the magickal explosion occurred and the Atrika lit out, Sarafina had yanked the Ketamine syringe from her pocket and slammed it into Stefan’s chest. A moment after she’d shot the drug into him, she pulled fire from her seat and shot it through her foot, dangerously close to Stefan’s family jewels. He yelped and backed away, succeeding only in tipping his chair backward and landing on his ass.

Jack and Theo were on him in a moment, yanking him up and slamming him against the tabletop while the club went frantic around them.

Theo had cast a spell on the paparazzi’s cameras when the initial magickal explosion had gone off, preventing them from taking pictures. They’d all been too busy fleeing or dodging elemental magick to try, anyway.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Stefan,” said Sarafina, “I didn’t mean to make you relive bad times.”

“You’re a fucking—” Stefan’s eyelids dropped. “A fucking—merde, you’ll never get away with this.”

Jack leaned down into Stefan’s face with a feral grin. “Looks like we just did, warlock.”

“SLEEPING LIKE A BABY,” SAID MIRA WITH A HARD little smile, staring down at Stefan who remained passed out and sprawled on one of the uncomfortable prison beds in Gribben.

Theo curled his lip, looking down at the warlock.

Because of the ambush and diversion they’d created, magickal firefights had broken out all over the Black Cauldron. In the explosion of chaos, non-magickals and witches alike had run for cover.

Since the Atrika had been occupied searching for a non-existent Claire, Theo had just picked Stefan up, slung him over his shoulder, and walked him out of the club. In the commotion, it had been easy as pie.

No one was sure how all the magick was going to be explained away, but desperate times called for desperate measures. In any case, humans had a tendency to find answers for even the most bizarre of occurrences. They’d done it to explain Sarafina’s mother’s death, and they’d do it for this, too.