Claire opened her eyes to the watery street light filtering through the open bedroom window, the sky a murky coal beyond it. Night had come. The spell had knocked her out for who knew how long.
Warm bodies nudged hers. She shifted from where she’d been slumped against the bed to see Simon and Seth both lying still. She trembled as she tested for pulses, but when two matching beats answered her silent prayer, she exhaled in relief. They were alive. That was something at least. Because as far as she could tell from the faint metallic gleams coming from their chests, Grandfather’s magic had failed to free them.
Blood had dried on her thumb, but pushing against the footboard to stand opened the cut again. “Damn it,” she said under her breath. She sucked it clean, then stepped over Simon’s shadowy form. There was a first aid kit in the bathroom. She’d get a bandage for herself and bring the rest of it back to wake up the guys. No telling what kind of treatment they were going to need.