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smiling face then folded to the ground.
    Shayla was dragged down by the force of his fall. Tallon lay as still as death and fear swamped her. Reaching out a trembling hand, she checked the rapid rise and fall of his chest, heard his breath rattling as he took sharp intakes of air. At least he was alive.
    She scrambled to her knees and looked around. The circle of women surrounded them, staring down at Tallon where he lay on the ground, with expressions varying from distrust to intense hostility. Only their leader appeared impassive. She strolled towards them and nudged Tallon with the toe of her boot. He groaned.
    “What have you done to him?” Shayla asked.
    The woman raised an eyebrow. “Do you care?”
    Tallon pushed himself up on one elbow and reached for his staff.
    “Some people never learn.” She leaned down and touched the object in her hand to Tallon’s side. His jaw clenched, and his whole body convulsed before collapsing onto the grass. Shayla was nearly dragged down with him a second time. The woman moved back a pace. Shoving the weapon into a holster at her waist, she drew a knife and stepped towards Shayla, gesturing to the hand that was still tied to Tallon. Shayla held out her arm and the rope was cut. She stumbled to her feet, legs trembling, and rubbed at her wrist where the tether had chafed her skin.
    “Who are you?” she asked.
    “My name is Cassandra. I’ll introduce the others later, but we’re Witches, from Arroway, like you.”
    A prickle of awareness ran over Shayla, followed by a surge of excitement—she’d never met another Witch before. On Arroway, they were either dead or in hiding. She looked around the circle, searching their faces for some sense of kinship or familiarity. Then something occurred to her. “How did you know?”
    A smile flickered across Cassandra’s face.”You’re hard to miss.” Reaching out, she grazed one fingertip over the mark high on Shayla’s cheekbone. “Besides, we’ve been expecting you, just not quite so soon and certainly not without our help.”
    Shayla’s skin tingled, and she took an instinctive step back. “Expecting me, how? I don’t understand.”
    “I’ll explain later. Now we need to get out of here and get the Warlock safely secured.” She gave a slight shake of her head. “What the hell is he doing here, anyway?”
    “He was sent to kill me. I said something, some spell to stop him. I don’t know what, and then we were here.”
    “Perhaps we should just finish him off.”
    One of the other women spoke, loathing clear in her voice, and Shayla found herself edging closer to Tallon, putting herself between him and the Witch. But what could she do to stop them if they decided to kill him? And wasn’t she forgetting something? Tallon had tried to assassinate her. Would probably try again as far as she knew, despite the way he had kissed her, touched her. Still, she couldn’t help her instinctive move.
    Cassandra shook her head. “Not yet.”
    “But—”
    “Leave it, Rachel,” Cassandra snapped. “We may find a use for him. Here, take this.” She picked up Tallon’s staff and handed it to her. “Keep it safe.”
    Crouching down beside Tallon, she grasped his wrists, binding them behind his back with the rope she had cut. Once secured, she drew the sword from the sheath and the knife from his waist and handed them to another of the women. She straightened. “Get up, Warlock.”
    Tallon lay still, and she raised her foot and kicked him hard in the side. He groaned but dragged himself up onto his knees. He glowered at Cassandra. “What have you done to me?”
    “Tasered you. And I’ll do it again if you don’t do exactly what I say, and that includes keeping quiet. Now, on your feet.”
    He stood, swaying slightly, his face ashen, his eyes black and unfocused. Shayla moved in to help, but noticed Cassandra watching her, one eyebrow raised, and she inched back.
    Cassandra nudged Tallon, and he staggered after the other