“Listen to me.” Merrick grabs my arm. “There’s no time to explain. They’re talking about a transference spell—they’re going to force you to transfer the portal guardianship to them.”
“What? What does that even mean? There aren’t even any spells in that book. It’s all blank?—”
“I’m sure it’s just a magical safeguard. Elizabeth, youmusttext your sisters. We need to get everyone out. Now.”
“We can’t leave without the grimoire. It’s what we came for! And what about Brendan? He killed my?—”
“There’s no time! I need to get to Warren and Oliver. Find your sisters and meet me outside in five minutes. Don’t delay, don’t speak to anyone else, and above all, don’t get noticed.”
“But it’s the middle of the auction! How am I supposed to?—”
“I’ll explain everything later. Please, Elizabeth. Please do as I say, without question, just this once.” He cups my face, surprisingly gentle for a full-out demon. In the depths of his pitch-black eyes, I see his fear. And something else, something far more vulnerable, something I’m not brave enough to name.
“Merrick…”
He leans in close. Presses a kiss to my forehead that zings all the way down to my feet. “Go. Now.”
He opens the door and steps into the hallway, checking to make sure the coast is clear. His shoulders relax a fraction.
Then, turning to me from the threshold, he offers one last smile. In a tender voice thick with emotion and completely at odds with his fearsome demons form, he says, “I want you to know, I’m?—”
The words fall away. His face slackens. In a graceless heap, he drops to the ground.
A syringe protrudes from his neck.
“No!” I rush forward, but someone barrels into me from the side, gripping me like a vise. “Let me go, you fuck!”
Hot, wet breath dampens my ear, the scent of it sickeningly familiar. “Should’ve come to your senses when you had the chance, witch.”
Brendan laughs. Something sharp pinches my neck, and all at once, my body seizes.
The world turns as black as a shadow.
twenty-four
LIZZY
“Nap time’s over, witch. Wake up.”
My eyes blink open just in time to catch a bucket of water to the face.
I cough and sputter, my mind ripped out of unconsciousness. I’m on my ass, propped against the wall outside the study, soaked. My hands are tied behind my back. Brendan is gone, though I can hear him grandstanding downstairs. Something about “the magical moment we’ve all been dreaming of.”
I can’t speak for the other guests, but my personal dream involves Brendan choking on his own dick in front of a party full of stuffed shirts. Somehow, I doubt that’s the plan.
“Get up.” Someone kicks my leg. Some fucking goon I haven’t seen before, holding a now- empty bucket.
“Where’s Merrick?” I choke out. “If you hurt?—”
“I said, on your feet, Blondie.” He grabs the front of my dress, jerking me upright and tearing the fabric.
“That’s vintage,asshole.” A swift, hard kick to the knee, and down he goes. I take off at a bolt, but he’s already on his feet again, lumbering after me.
He catches me just as I reach the stairs. No more bucket.
Only a gun.
“The harder you fight, the more it’s gonna hurt.” He clocks me in the temple.
