“Since this is what you turned me into.” Jarod waves at himself before he picks up the glass pot of burning silver liquid. He twists it. Shakes it. “I plan to use it.”
“Don’t!” I grab the pot out of his hand. I place it carefully on the battered bench and step back. I start breathing again. “Do that.” I glare at him. “This isn’t your world. The rules are different here.”
“There has to be magick.” He paces the vaulted room, his hands behind his back. “And I’m sure there’s someone around here whose life you’re destroying.”
He stops, turns. That silver gaze fixes on me. “Deny it.”
“How did you get here?”
He stares up at the windows, three narrow slits high on one wall. Harsh sunlight splinters to the floor around him, through him. “You set me free.” The smile he directs at me prickles my skin. “And I have some time to kill.”
And that disturbs me more than anything else.