Drake, standing in the middle of our steadily escating doom, looked like a man mildly inconvenienced by a tedious seminar rather than trapped in a lethal magical vice slowly tightening around us.

  “Panic speeds up the compression,” he said, as if discussing exam technique. “If survival interests you, stop moving and let me think.”

  The glowing net pulsed ominously.

  “Let you think?” Elvira snapped, stepping closer. “You annihited a tenerants far too easily for someone supposedly ‘blue level’. And you navigate this pce like it’s your family estate. Do you take us for decorative furniture?”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “Oh, here we go. An interrogation.”

  “Maybe you orchestrated this,” she pressed. “You always appear wherever trouble begins.”

  The ttice tightened by another ten inches. The stone beneath our feet cracked miserably.

  “Do I strike you as someone who sets traps for himself?” he asked, mildly.

  Meanwhile, Finn had redirected his outrage towards me — or rather, towards Moorka in my arms.

  “And this,” he jabbed at Moorka, “is absolutely not coincidence. First gargoyle. Now a death mechanism. Mal, your demon is a portable catastrophe!”

  “She didn’t mean to!” I shot back, hugging Moorka tighter.

  “We nearly died!”

  “She’s a cat!”

  Moorka, proving my argument by licking her paw, radiated indifference. Yes, she activated the trap. Yes, we nearly died. And yes — I still wasn’t going to let anyone shout at her.

  Finn snorted.

  “When she ‘accidentally’ kills us next time, do remind me she’s charming.”

  “She won’t,” I muttered.

  Elvira’s focus never left Drake.

  “You’re hiding something,” she said under her breath.

  The net contracted again, dark threads creeping towards our boots like judgement.

  Drake exhaled — not tired. Annoyed.

  “Are we done?”

  “No.”

  That was when he stopped debating — he simply raised his hand.

  Fme fred in his palm.

  Then wind twisted into it.

  The ground trembled beneath our feet.

  And a slender arc of water coiled around his wrist.

  Four elements at once.

  The air in the hall seemed to thicken, Finn stopped breathing in a highly theatrical way.

  “We thought you were just fire.”

  “Fire is obvious,” Drake replied. “Satisfied? I can dismantle this trap. However.”

  He looked at us. No humour now.

  “What you’ve just witnessed remains between us. I hear even a whisper and I’ll remove the capacity for gossip.”

  Silence. Elvira nodded slowly, Finn did the same. Democracy quietly expired. I was still holding Moorka, and my heart was beating far too fast.

  “Right,” Drake said briskly. “If survival appeals to you, follow instructions. Mal, come here. Your reserve will be useful.”

  My brain stalled.

  “For what?”

  “I’ve already invested rather heavily in the tenerants.”

  He looked perfectly composed. No heavy breathing. No shaking hands. No trace of fatigue.

  “I’m red level,” I reminded him. “The academic equivalent of decorative background.”

  He stepped closer. Far closer than necessary.

  “Malinka,” he said softly, with that infuriating half-smile. “At the moment, you’re not using that reserve for anything anyway. I merely need to strengthen the weave.”

  The ttice trembled, moving few inches closer to us.

  “With what, exactly?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “With you.”