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hid in
Airlee,” I said to Trafton. He was standing behind us, grim-faced.
    “Just wait until you see the
mages,” he cautioned. “Then you’ll understand.”
    Just as he spoke, something moved
into sight from around one of the nearby buildings, and a scream caught in my
throat. It looked like a demon, all blazing orange and red fire, but when I
looked more closely I realized that it was merely a figure in robes and a hood
of dark maroon. It was what the figure was holding that was blazing.
    “Fire whip,” said Sip. “That’s
all kinds of not good. I thought those things were illegal.”
    “They are,” said Lisabelle, her
voice shaking with anger. “Feel free to go tell the darkness mage holding it
that he isn’t allowed. See how well that works. I would do it from at least
twenty feet.”
    “I mean, they could at least have
the courtesy to fight fair,” Sip muttered. “I hate rule-breakers. So
stressful.”
    Trafton chuckled softly behind
us.
    “Is that Ms. Vale?” I asked,
glancing over my shoulder at Trafton.
    “No,” said Trafton. “I don’t see
her.”
    But more were coming. I stopped
counting how many Fire Whip wielders there were at ten. I gulped.
    “Are they moving them?” I asked
worriedly. All thought of trying to rescue my fellow classmates was out of my
head now. We had no hope of saving them against so many, especially while my
magic was still depleted.
    “I don’t think they’re going
anywhere,” said Trafton. Then he gave a muffled cry and toppled forward. I
turned just as he slammed into my side, but it was too late.
    “And neither are you,” said
Zervos’s nasty voice. His salt and pepper hair perfectly combed, his eyes wild,
and his white teeth flashing in the darkness, he stood behind us brandishing a
knife.
     

 
    Chapter Eight
     
    “You don’t want to do this,” said
Sip, clearly trying to stall Zervos from taking us down to the Fire Whips and
Vale.
    “Shut up,” said Zervos coldly. He
raised his hand and slapped it across Sip’s face. The werewolf’s head snapped
to her left and her eyes lit with unshed tears. Lisabelle started forward, but
I grabbed her arm.
    “Don’t make a scene,” I hissed.
“He will kill us.” Lisabelle’s eyes were furious, and her arm muscles under my
hands were taut as she glared at Zervos.
    “At least let me make sure he’s
okay,” she said, tilting her chin toward Trafton. Slowly, the dream giver got
to his feet. His face was white and both his hands were pressed against the
wound in his side. Blood seeped through his tanned fingers.
    “Hit her again and I swear I’ll
kill you,” Lisabelle gritted out. Zervos’s eyes blazed. As he raised his hand
as if to strike Sip a second time, Lisabelle tensed and I held my breath. I was
not at all sure which of the two would win in a fight.
    Zervos slowly lowered his hand,
his smile growing wider as his eyes grew brighter.
    “Watch yourself, mage,” he said
venomously. “You have no friends here and your good-for-nothing uncle is not
around to protect you.”
    “You mean the uncle whose job you
want?” Lisabelle said coldly. Then, turning away from Zervos and starting down
the trail, she called back to us over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
    She had taken Zervos by surprise,
but he quickly recovered. Paranormals don’t become professors of universities
without a strong skill set. He shot in front of us so fast it was as if he had
disappeared from one spot and reappeared in another.
    “I will lead this little party,”
he said menacingly. “As a matter of fact. . . .”
    He held up his ring. It was blood
red, but in its depths I could see flecks of black. I didn’t know what that
meant, except that it couldn’t be good for us.
    In an instant, before anyone
could react, heavy black chains lashed our arms and even our feet. I felt the
weight as they clamped around my ankles, instantly bruising them. Trafton,
right in front of me, tripped. I caught him around the left arm,