Leanne marched forward, seized Vix’s arms, and wrenched them cruelly up behind her back. The two pale volumes in her hands went tumbling to the ground.
Sharpe rested his pistol against Caine’s chest with a lazy grin. Ms. Griff took up a side against Mirra, her hand resting uncertainly on her shoulder, looking not quite sure what to do next.
Mirra seemed in no condition to escape, however. She was staring vacantly ahead, her eyes glazed with dull horror.
Leanne gave Vix’s arm another twist. With a growl, Vix tried to pull away. She gasped in pain as a wave of heat pulsed from Leanne’s palms. “I wouldn’t,” the short witch said behind her.
“Separate cells for each of them, please,” Melina said. She sounded like she was directing them where to hang the washing. Vix wondered how many times she had done this before.
Then, almost as an afterthought, she bent down and scooped up Vix’s books.
“Those are mine,” Vix growled.