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is
frightened.”
    “Don’t be scared, Gray!” Marco yelled.
    “There is nothing to fear,” Adrian called
out, sweeping an arm toward the table.
    “Go on, Gray!” Hannah hollered.
    Could Gray come up with a plan in the ten
steps it took to reach the table? Apparently not. She refused
Adrian’s hand and approached the box warily.
    There was no teleporting herself out of this
one. Se ñ ora Contreras would never allow
Gray back to the sanctuary, and Gray wasn’t about to let Adrian
ruin her summer in Spain. There was also the audience to consider,
blissfully unaware that they were in the midst of real magic.
    Once Adrian’s back turned to the audience he
looked Gray over with an intimacy that bordered on inappropriate.
At that moment, Gray felt as though she would have been better off
facing him in a dark alley than in front of a mob screaming for her
blood.
    And if she let Adrian put her in the box, it
most likely would be her blood.
    The last time she saw him she had taken his
blood, and now he had her right where he wanted her.
    Adrian’s lips curved up. The fitted suit made
him appear older and more menacing than Gray remembered. Gone was
the voice of the performer. Adrian lowered his voice. “Go on, Gray,
get in.”
    That’s it, she was out of there. They could
all think of her as a coward. Better a coward than a fool. But as
she backed up, Adrian caught her by the arm and hauled her to the
stepladder. “Don’t ruin my show,” he hissed in her ear.
    Before she could think of what to do next,
Adrian had her in the box and the lid snapped over her body. Gray’s
head hung out exposed to the audience. She waited for Adrian to
joke with the spectators, but now that Gray was secure in the box
his eyes looked wild with intent.
    Gray glared at him. “If you hurt me . .
.”
    “I don’t want to hurt you, Gray.” He leaned
down to her ear and whispered, “I want to make you scream.”
    Gray momentarily forgot to breathe.
    The gleam in Adrian’s eyes looked downright
diabolical. For the first time, he frightened her. Finally, Gray
was able to suck in a breath. She tried to move around, but the box
had her thoroughly encased.
    Adrian straightened and snapped his fingers.
The saw shrilled to life. Panic seized Gray’s throat. At least she
wasn’t screaming. Adrian began lowering the saw. His lips moved,
but his words were drowned out by the wretched sound of steel
spinning toward her. Gray realized too late Adrian was mouthing the
words of a spell. Not that it would have changed anything had she
known earlier. The moment Adrian had secured her in that box her
fate had been sealed.
    The blade came down. Splinters flew as it bit
into the box. Gray’s eyes grew wide in her face. The noise was
deafening, and suddenly the blade touched her skin, ripping through
her abdomen. That’s when Gray began to scream.
    Her shriek was more blood-curdling than the
whine of the saw. She drowned the noise out with her own voice. Why
wasn’t someone rushing to her aid? Then she heard it, through the
steel and sound of her own screams, faintly—laughter.
    Gray wished for all the world she could stop
screaming. She only stopped when the blade stopped. Adrian was
using his presenter’s voice again. She didn’t feel her body move
when the table swung to the side as Adrian displayed the cut down
the middle.
    Gray blocked him out. She concentrated on her
breathing. She was still alive. Whether or not she was still whole,
she would have to see.
    Laughter bubbled up from the crowd and washed
over the stage. In that moment Gray hated them all: the audience,
Adrian, even her friends. Anger had replaced panic. Her teeth
gnashed.
    Adrian moved the box back in place and
unlatched the lid. Gray rose and stepped out slowly. She looked
down, half expecting to see bloodstains on her sundress, but
nothing indicated that her body had been ripped apart moments
earlier.
    Gray swayed when she stepped from the stool
to the stage. Adrian steadied