I looked over to see if Blythe was all right, but her eyes were fixed on Dante, and when I turned my head, I saw why.

He was still staring sightlessly ahead, his chest rising and falling rapidly, but now a trickle of blood was slipping from his nose.

“What’s going on?” I asked Blythe, and she shook her head frantically, paging through Saylor’s journal.

“I . . . I think the spell was too strong. Or maybe Alexander added some kind of, I don’t know, like, booby trap to it.” Her voice was thin, higher than usual, and her fingers moved over the pages of the journal so quickly that death by paper cut seemed like a real hazard.

“You did a spell on him without knowing what it would do?” Bee asked, stepping forward and slightly out of the headlights’ glare. She’d pulled her hair into a messy bun, and she was looking at Blythe with her eyebrows raised. “Isn’t that what you gave us so much crap for?”

Blythe’s head shot up. “The kind of magic we’re dealing with is dangerous,” she spit out. “I’m sorry it’s not a freaking chemistry problem with formulas or whatever, but it’s not, and—”

“And the two of you need to stop fighting and figure out what we’re going to do,” I finished, crouching down at Dante’s side. His pulse was strong underneath my fingers, even though he was still breathing fast. Still, in the bright glow of my headlights, his pupils were so wide that there was hardly any iris showing.

“Should we call nine-one-one?” I asked, wondering what we would even say to a dispatcher. “‘Hi, we did magic on this guy in a field and now he seems catatonic, please assist’?”

But then Dante’s head suddenly whipped in my direction, his hand flying out. The ground rumbled and a wave of power shot out from his fingertips, strong enough to knock me backward, making my teeth clack together hard.

“The hell?” Bee squawked, but I was already on my feet, reaching for Dante.

Another wave hit, no real specific spell, just magic, lots of it, powerful enough to make all the hair on my arms stand up and to start a ringing in my ears.

“He’s not supposed to have powers!” I yelled, but that seemed kind of ridiculous to say when he lifted his hand again, sending out another bolt that had Bee stumbling against the hood of the car.

Blythe was still looking through the journal even as she had one hand out, sending blasts of power. But they just seemed to roll off Dante, who was already rising to his feet and raising his hand again.

Blythe cried out as the journal flew from her hands, and I was so freaked out from taking a walk through Dante’s mind that I wasn’t sure if my powers were up to the challenge of taking on a Mage Gone Wild.

But I was certainly willing to give it a shot.

As I moved forward, something caught my elbow, and I turned to see Bee next to me. Apparently her stumble against the car had given her an idea.

When I got my first car, my dad had given me a toolbox for the trunk. It was pink (and both the hammer and the screwdriver inside had flowers on their handles), which I’d appreciated, but it was also heavy as all get out. As she held it out to me, and as I closed my fingers around the handle, I flashed Bee a smile. “Thanks, Squire.”

“Thought there might be something in there that would help!” she said quickly, already moving back.

And maybe there was, but then Dante was turning his gaze back to me, and I realized I wasn’t going to have time to rifle through the box for the handiest tool.

Instead, I hefted the entire thing, power flowing through my muscles, and swung.

Hard.

Chapter 24

“I MEAN, AT most, there’s, like, a thirty percent chance I killed him.”

We were speeding down the interstate toward Atlanta, the car thick with tension. I’d let Bee drive, and now I twisted from my spot in the passenger seat to look at Blythe in the back.

“He was out when we left, but he was still breathing. And we called nine-one-one. I’m sure he’s fine.”

I really hoped he was fine. Aunt Jewel had had a hard enough time with the break-in at David’s. On the run for murder? I wasn’t sure she could forgive that.

Blythe sank back farther into her seat. “He’ll be fine,” she agreed, her voice dull. “His magic would’ve acted kind of like a buffer. You knocked him out, but that was about all the damage you could do. And you were only able to hurt him because you’re a Paladin.”

“Good to know,” I said, turning back around.

Silence fell again.

It wasn’t broken until Bee flipped the turn signal at our exit, and against the steady tick-tick of that, she finally asked, “So . . . what happened back there?”

I could hear rustling from the backseat as Blythe fidgeted around. “Spell got out of hand. I told you, magic’s not something that’s easy to control or predict. When I tried to unlock his memories, I . . . I must’ve unlocked his powers, too, but they were all out of whack and stuff.”

“Understatement,” I muttered, rubbing at the new scrape on my knee from where Dante had pushed me backward.

I tried to meet Blythe’s eyes in the rearview mirror, but she was gazing at her lap, her expression troubled. Blythe wasn’t used to failing, and while we’d gotten the information we needed—Alexander had Saylor’s spell, a spell that could wipe power and memories, and the pages were probably in his office—the night still felt like a loss.

“It’s fine,” I said to Blythe now. “You couldn’t have known that would happen, and hey! Now we’re that much closer to the spell we need, which means that much closer to stopping David.”

Blythe nodded, but didn’t say anything, and after a while, I turned my eyes back to the dark roads in front of us.

• • •

If Saylor’s house hadn’t been what I expected, Alexander’s office was actually much more in line with what I’d pictured—a high-rise that glittered in the darkness, its hundreds of windows reflecting the moon and streetlights.

Still, there was a weird feeling around the building as I parked the car in the attached deck. It felt . . . abandoned. Empty. And while I wasn’t surprised there weren’t other cars in the lot at this time of night—it was nearly three a.m.—I’d still thought there would be some janitors, a few lights on. Something.

Everything was still and quiet as we followed Blythe across the parking lot to the front doors. They weren’t locked—or else they just opened for Blythe—and we walked into a large lobby that was mostly empty.

“Is this place magicked or just abandoned?” I asked, and she looked over her shoulder at me as we moved toward the elevator.

“Six of one, half dozen of the other. There was magic over it to keep people out, but once the person who did the magic died, it started falling apart pretty quickly. Locals think it’s just an abandoned high-rise.”

“And you’re sure this isn’t going to get us arrested?” Bee asked once the elevator doors were closed.

Blythe shook her head, drumming her fingers on the steel rail behind her, and Bee and I met each other’s eyes behind her back. Whatever happened with Dante was still clearly weighing on Blythe’s mind.

The doors opened, and the three of us stepped out into a deserted lobby, where there was an empty desk and a few chairs. The carpet underfoot felt almost damp, and there was a musty, unused smell to the place.