Anger and fear bubbled out of Theo, hot and bitter. He swung his sword with all his might, ignoring the searing agony of the movement. He aimed for the neck of the Atrika and caught him dead-on. The demon’s head separated from his shoulders and the body fell lifeless against the wall. Sarafina dove to the floor, just narrowly avoiding the spray of blood.

Theo grabbed her arm and helped her past the toxic gore. The floor and walls still smoked from the splattering of blood. She’d gone from sheet white to nauseated green, and he didn’t blame her. It was a gruesome sight.

Once they were far enough away, Theo went down on one knee, his wounded arm in shock at all the movement he’d made. It felt like someone had taken a blowtorch to his injured limb.

“Let me see.” Sarafina’s fingers were gentle as she angled his arm to take a look and whistled low. “It’s bad.”

“I figured that,” he gritted out. “Better my arm than the center of my chest, though.”

The crash and a bellow of Atrikan ire echoed through the open door. Theo lurched to his feet, gripped his sword, and charged through it with Sarafina right behind him.

Two more Atrika lay headless on the floor of the corridor where they’d stashed Stefan. A couple of witches lay on the floor, too, dead for sure. Another few lay wounded, their backs against the wall, breathing shallowly.

Stefan’s voice echoed from inside one of the cells and he and Sarafina ran toward it. Inside were Thomas, Isabelle, Claire, and Adam. Stefan stood surrounded by three Atrika. The head warlock’s skin was ashen and his shoulders were slumped. Gribben had taken its toll.

Sarafina had told Theo that Faucheux had said being imprisoned in Gribben—or at least, losing his magick—was the only thing that had ever come close to breaking him. Seeing Faucheux now, Theo believed it.

The head warlock fixed his gaze on Sarafina, hatred making his eyes bright and his face pinched, before he reached out, touched the Atrika nearest him, and they all jumped.

Gone.

The witches stood in silence for a moment. Theo could hear nothing but the moaning from the corridor.

Adam swore loudly. “And for the second fucking time Stefan escapes Gribben. The only person ever able to do that.”

Isabelle threw her sword to the concrete floor with a clatter. “He didn’t escape. He was poofed. Don’t give him more credit than he deserves, which is none.”

Thomas turned toward the door, throwing his sword down, too. “It’s done. Let’s tend the wounded.” He sounded as frustrated as Theo had ever heard him.

SARAFINA AND THE OTHERS FOLLOWED THOMAS OUT of the room, already finding Jack, Mira, Micah, and the other unharmed Coven witches helping the wounded and ensuring any injured daaeman were well and surely dead.