They found no refuge in the corridor. The bolts from the daaeman magick found them there, too, ricocheting off the walls and sparking on the floor and ceiling. Theo and Sarafina were too busy dodging the bolts to even think about raising power.

And the Atrika were coming.

To his left, Miranda, a fire witch, took a stand, raising power to fight the Atrika who were charging her like a freight train. A shot of the blue daaeman shit hit her straight in the chest and the flare of power she’d poofed into existence fizzled like a candle doused by a tidal wave.

Miranda gasped in shock and fell against the wall, grasping her seat with both hands, a look of utter despair transforming her features to shocked ashen gray. The Atrika who’d been gunning for her before simply passed her by. She wasn’t a threat anymore.

“Theo!” Miranda yelled, her eyes wide. “Get out of here. Get out!”

What an awesome idea.

“Come on,” said Sarafina, seeing an opening in the throng. They were all edged into the corridor like cows ready for slaughter.

“Watch out!” Miranda yelled.

A bolt of daaeman magick sailed toward them. He and Sarafina leapt apart, each going in different directions to avoid the projectile. This was like some fucked-up, deadly dodgeball game.

When Theo rolled back to his feet, Sarafina had been swallowed up in the crowd and was nowhere to be found.

SARAFINA STRUGGLED BACK TO HER FEET AND IMMEDIATELY had to duck to avoid another bolt of blue. The damn bullets of despair didn’t always explode harmlessly on the wall or floor; sometimes they bounced and changed direction, aiming for another witch.

All around her people were being hit. The sounds of grieving met her ears and tightened her chest and stomach in empathy. She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to lose her power, not after she’d just found it.

It wasn’t going to happen to her, goddamn it.

She looked up from her place on the floor and couldn’t see Theo anywhere. Their only chance was to get out of the Coven, away from the spell that Stefan had unleashed. She glanced past the throng in the foyer and saw that the Atrika and warlocks were guarding the exit. Of course. They’d probably been ordered by Stefan to hem everyone in, the better to hit them with the alien magick.

Near her Annie was hit in the shoulder by a bolt of blue. The diminutive brunette spun from the impact and then sank to the floor, hands covering her face and keening in grief.

“Annie!” Sarafina cried out, crawling toward her.

Annie either didn’t hear her, or was too in shock to answer. She remained on her knees, face hidden in her hands. Sarafina couldn’t get to her in the throng and could only catch a glimpse of her from around the panicking witches.