She stopped next to Eduardo and the three of them looked at me. I collected my jaw from where it was hanging around my knees, and thought fast and furious. If Phillippa was here and on friendly terms with Guarda, that meant she was a part of the Trust. It also meant that Guarda was likely to know that I had Esme and Mr. Woogums as part of my entourage, and that I hadn't figured out how to Release them.

All of which added up to some pretty bad trouble for Allegra the Summoner.

Beloved? Christian's voice was sleepy, but infinitely reassuring in my mind. I wasn't alone! You are frightened?

Very, I answered, twisting my fingers into my purse. I've done something stupid.

I felt his sigh even before his words caressed my mind. Foolish, perhaps, but never stupid, Beloved.

"Um, Phillippa, what a surprise. I hadn't expected to see you here."

I'm in Guarda's office. With Eduardo and the hermit I told you about. I think they want to force me to go live in their town house. They don't seem to be inclined to let me walk out of here, Christian.

His silence was almost as loud as his second sigh. I believe I will withdraw my objection over the word stupid.

"Indeed." The hermit turned to Guarda. "She is speaking to someone who is at a distance from us. With whom has she had contact?"

My eyes widened. How did she know I was talking to Christian? And could she tell who he was? The need to protect him was very strong, strong enough that I closed down my mind to him.

I understand, Allegra. It is still daylight; I cannot come to rescue you.

I swallowed hard. Christian seemed so normal to me, I'd forgotten that he couldn't go out in daylight.

I will send help.

Just the touch of his mind in mine reminded me that I was not a victim; I was a woman in charge of her life. I raised my chin a notch and stared down my nose at Phillippa.

"Really? How very interesting." Guarda looked at me with speculation, then edged around her desk and approached me. I backed up until she stopped a few feet away from me. The ward I'd sketched in the air suddenly flared to life, glowing a shimmering gold in the pale, watery light of a rainy November afternoon.

"Wards!" Guarda hissed, then shot me a look of loathing that I won't soon forget.

Phillippa walked a circle around me. As she reached each ward, it burst into light, fading when she passed its range of protection.

"She is guarded," Phillippa acknowledged. "Still, there may be a way."

Uh-oh. I didn't like the sound of that. I prayed Christian was going to summon the fire department or other emergency service, because I had a worrisome notion that whatever Phillippa was planning, it wasn't going to be fun.

"Um. You know, I think I'll just be leaving. We can talk about this whole Trust thing another day. My fiancé will be waiting for me."

They ignored me to huddle together and speak in tones so quiet I couldn't hear them. I knew as soon as I neared the door that Guarda had done something to it, had warded it so that it would not allow anyone to pass through the door whom she wished to remain within, but I gave it a shot anyway. None of the three even bothered to as much as look my way as I struggled to press through the invisible wall that denied exit to me.

"Hell's bells," I snarled to myself, and took a step back to collect myself. A ward could be undone if you studied it and determine how it was made. Every person who drew wards did so by following a basic format, then personalizing it, adding a word here, a gesture there, something that didn't interfere with the basic function of the ward, but which made it unique and impossible to remove unless you had the time and leisure to examine it closely. It wasn't actually the ward itself that provided the power; it was the belief the person drawing it had in his own abilities. That was why infrequently drawn wards, like the one I used on Christian at Joy's house, were likely to dissolve after a short amount of time. I hadn't used them enough to have complete faith in my ability to draw them.

Guarda's ward, however, glowed silver when I pushed myself into the doorway, and was of such a complex design that it would take me hours to unravel.

Allegra.

The voice was loud in my head, compelling, demanding, filled with absolute authority. It was not Christian's silken tones.

Against my will I turned around slowly. The four wards around me glowed gold, but I ignored them to blink at the scene before me. Guarda and Phillippa stood together, unmoving as they watched me with eyes that were empty, as if they were looking inward on themselves. Behind them Eduardo sat on the desk, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, his hands stretched forward to hold… I gasped and tried to back up. I couldn't; my feet were frozen, locking me in place as I stared in horror at the three of them. Eduardo's fingers were pressed to the base of both their necks.

They had formed a triumvirate, the most powerful force known to modern psychics.

And they had breached my defenses.

You will cease struggling against us.

I tried to take a deep breath, but the protective crouch I'd assumed as the triumvirate's joined mind slammed into mine made it impossible to breathe deeply.

You will recognize that we are stronger.

I took lots of tiny little breaths instead, and struggled to focus my attention on something trivial and innocent, something that couldn't be used against me or be corrupted by the power flooding into my mind.

You will tell us what you have done with the ghosts you have in your possession.

The bits of broken bud vase erupted into powder.

I forced my attention to my shoes. The toes were scuffed. I wondered how it was possible to scuff the top of the toes when it was the soles that made contact with the floor.

A small muted green pillow on the love seat beneath the etched black picture exploded in a flurry of foam bits.

The triumvirate's power was increasing, small tendrils of it leaking out into the office.

You will tell us with whom you were speaking.

I pushed the bits of foam away from my feet. It wasn't as if I had made a habit of scraping the upper part of my shoes against things. Yet it was the tops of my shoes that were scuffed.

Allegra Telford.

There was power in a name. Pain shuddered through me as I fought to resist their unspoken command and tucked my head between my knees, praying help would arrive soon. I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold out against the triumvirate's strength.

Books began flying from a glass-fronted bookcase. Straight through the glass.

Help will not arrive to save you. You must yield to us. You cannot do anything but yield.

My inner voice screamed in agony at the sheer volume of power that was being thrown at me. It was like standing directly in front of a jet engine's fan, shards of power piercing me and weakening both my mind and body. Shoes, I desperately told my screaming self. Shoes were what was important. What did they call the little plastic tips on the ends of shoelaces?

Books struck my body. The triumvirate was directing the power leaks, forcing them into a pattern that would help them and weaken me further. I couldn't believe anyone had enough control that they could direct the leaks, and yet with every blow I had proof.

I started to wonder if I was going to make it.

It is no use. You are not strong enough. You are not good enough to resist us. Until you came to England you were a failure, unproven, tested and failed. Do not destroy yourself trying to prove you can best us. No one can. We are all powerfull.