ora

e the expensive, tailored cloak

e over his shoulder. I recognized him from the auction floor, Julian Vance, the second son of a family that made its fortune impor

as he stepped into the light of the gas lamp, his four

d her lovely stray. Tell me, how did a broke girl and a broker afford to sit in the Vault? Paying your way on your

weight, their hands resting loosely n

s. "Back off, Julian. You're drunk, you're pathetic, and if you

you, sweetheart, dragging this little baggage around. Why don't you come warm my bed tonight? Be a good, obed

th to yell, but I placed a flat palm against h

ing into the damp air like cold lead.

ard, pulling Silas along with her. She knew that look. It was the look

plead. "What's the matter, sweetheart? Ready to neg

nd out, his gloved fing

t draw

pulling wood took too long. True power

ped up, fingers h

ted from my palm with the concu

d ebony wand was ripped from its leather holster with violent speed, sp

ned in sheer, unco

advanced combat theory. It was something taught to

ve him time

heel. The stolen wand blurred in my grip, trac

instantly, his jaw snapping shut, his arms locking to his sides as his knees

izard yelled, frantically

. I thrust my left p

ced air, struck him dead center. His eyes rolled back into his hea

s. Three pur

cing their drunken bravado. One of them turned to run

ight heel agai

jagged lines, snapping around their ankles like iron shackles. Both boys screame

y went d

s. No shouted incantations. No theatrical wand flou

up to Jul

re chattering, his hands raised in front of his

tapped the polished tip gently a

r," I whispered, my voice completely devoid of emotion

ueak of absolute terro

forward, stitching his lips shut with invisible magical thread

d dropped, clattering uselessly ag

on the frozen wre

s," I said, ex

worship as he grabbed my fingers. "Sis,

ing him and a stunned Freya

ien

e port was freezing, but the cold didn't compare to the absolute

oker, and the child disappeared into the fog, leaving behind f

ay down his nose. The amused, arrogant smir

's sixth-year advanced combat theory. Only elite aurors and high-ranking duelists can pull that of

eyes still fixed on the empty

ked at me,

of the balustrade. "She wasn't fighting. She was executing. That kind of ruthless efficiency isn't cultivated by greenhouse

ike he had just witnessed a gho

raw, undeniable thrill of the hunt ign