The thing that gave me a fighting chance was that he’d armed himself too well in his wariness, a gun in one hand and an athame of his own in the other. Full hands prevented him from fully deflecting my attack, though in many ways, the strength of his arms were more than good enough to block the worst of it. I got a swipe in on his face, however, gaining a fair amount of satisfaction in seeing the blood it produced.

“You bitch,” he said, circling with me in the kitchen as we each sized each other up for an attack. “Where’s Abigail?”

“Taking a nap,” I said. I gave him a wicked smile, hoping I sounded stronger than I felt. With that one shove alone, I’d been painfully reminded that I was not in peak condition quite yet. I couldn’t let him know how weak I was. “Don’t worry. You can join her.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let him keep you here,” Art growled. “I should have made him drag you back by your hair to your own fucking world like a caveman. But he was too afraid they’d find you.”

“It’s too late. They know I’m here already. See the phone? I got a call in just before you arrived.”

A lie, but an effective one as it turned out. Art’s eyes flicked to the portable phone lying on the kitchen floor. It had come open when I dropped it, and the battery lay nearby. With that slight distraction, I tried again, lunging toward him. I got a kick in-not as strong as one of my usual ones, particularly since I was still in that fucking gentry dress-but enough to throw him off-balance. He was still stronger and faster, though. He’d dropped the athame earlier and grabbed me with that free hand, wrenching my arm painfully to get me to drop my athame. In his other hand, he held the gun but seemed hesitant to use it.

At last, his hand was too strong, and my fingers unclenched, releasing the blade and leaving me defenseless. Triumphant, Art slammed me back against the cupboard and tried to turn me around, probably to bind my hands. I’d noticed a glitter near his pocket earlier and suspected he had handcuffs on him. I fought him the whole time, refusing to turn around, and with only one hand free, he had a bit of difficulty in maneuvering me.

“Stop struggling, or I’ll blow your head off,” he yelled. “No one’s coming, and you know it. Play nice, or there’s nothing that Leith can offer me to keep you alive.”

“I doubt that. Your whoring operation seems to bring in a lot of money. Are you going to give that up so easily?”

“There are other ways to get gentry girls,” he grunted, still trying to shove me around and subdue me. The unfortunate thing was, he was getting closer. My strength was rapidly fading. “Other people will make deals. I don’t need Leith or his half-breed whore to-ah!”

I saw the chair before I saw Markelle. It was the one I’d used to climb through the garage door. Abigail had shoved it aside when she went outside, and now Markelle had snuck up and clobbered Art with it from behind. It was hardly a blow to render him unconscious, but it caused him to release me and stagger back. Markelle immediately scrambled away, but Art’s attention wasn’t on her. His eyes were back on me. Weak or not, I knew I had to use that opening to take him down. I surged forward again, fists ready and-

He shot me.

So help me, that bastard shot me. The bullet took me in the right shoulder, and I flew back against the cupboards, sinking down to the floor as my left hand instinctively flew to the wound to stop the blood. Art walked swiftly toward me, gun pointed down. “The next one goes through your heart,” he said. “Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

“I’m kind of fucking bleeding here,” I snapped back. My shoulder was on fire, and I couldn’t even really move my arm. “How much more incapacitated could I get?”

His smile was bitter. “Eugenie, you won’t be incapacitated enough until you’re dead.”

I saw Markelle come up behind him again. Her chair was gone, but her fists were out as she pounded him on the back, desperately trying to get him away from me. It was noble and tugged at my heart, but I wanted to yell at her to get the hell out of here. She was no more than a mosquito to him. With ease, he turned around and backhanded her, and I swear, she hit the floor harder than I had when I was shot.

In those fleeting seconds, I snaked one of my feet out as hard as I could manage and hit Art in the shin. He stumbled, leg buckling, but didn’t fall. The gun, however, did fall from his hands. It hit the floor with a clatter and slid far out of my reach-but not out of Cariena’s. She’d apparently been standing on the far side of the kitchen this entire time. When the gun slid up to her, the timid girl didn’t hesitate. She picked it up-screaming as her fingers made contact with the metal and polymers-and slid it back across the floor to me.

I grabbed it. All the while, Art’s eyes had been following the gun’s journey, so when it came to my hand, he was facing me. I had the gun aimed in a flash, and while I wasn’t a great shot with my left hand, I wasn’t horrible either. No hesitation: I fired. The bullet bit into his chest, and he fell backward, blood immediately pouring from the wound. I’d hit the mark.

Markelle and Cariena ran up to me, Raina following moments later. “Are you all right?” exclaimed Markelle.

“Me?” I asked incredulously. “He smacked you across the room.”

She shrugged. “They’ve done worse since I’ve been here.”

Between the three of them, they managed to help me to my feet without putting too much pressure on the wounded shoulder. Raina attempted some of her healing magic-maybe I’d been too quick to dismiss their powers after all-and we found bandages to wrap the wound. Her power only lessened the pain; she could do nothing more extensive.

“It’s made of iron,” she said apologetically. Of course it was. Art would have had it loaded for wayward gentry.

“It’s okay. I’m fine.” We were back in the kitchen, and I was leaning against the counter, attempting to straighten the bandage. We were all kind of trying to ignore Art’s body. “Okay. I can try to call for help again, but I think we need to get out of here on foot. I know where the gateway is, and it’s kind of a long ways, but we should be able to-”

“Eugenie? What’s going on?”

I’d set the gun on the counter while tugging my bandages straight, but in the blink of an eye, the revolver was back in my left hand, pointed toward the new addition in the kitchen. I knew the voice before I saw the face. How could I not? I’d been listening to that voice over and over this whole week, both sleeping and awake. A voice that was a contradiction because it promised love and devotion while only delivering pain and humiliation.

I’d numbed out the worst of it with sheer will and the nightshade’s effects. But now, pumped full of adrenaline, on the verge of escape and in control of my senses, the true magnitude of it all slammed into me. The horror. The terror. The helplessness. Emotion after emotion burned through me, but in the space of a breath, my mind immediately dispatched any feelings that wouldn’t help me right now. That left only the dark ones. Rage. Fury. Malice.

I tightened my hold on the gun and narrowed my eyes at the man I hated most in the world.

“Hello, Leith.”