I close my eyes, trying to concentrate. I remember the words from the book about air elementals: "don't control the element; collaborate with it.” Maybe I don't need to force the mechanism physically. Maybe...
I gently rest my fingers on the metal surface and visualize the interior. Small air currents exist even inside sealed systems. I search for those microscopic spaces, those air particles trapped between the mechanisms, and I encourage them to move, to push, to flow in the right direction.
I feel initial resistance, but then, as if the air itself understands my intentions, the molecules begin to stir, pressing against the stuck metal. With an almost imperceptible click, the last tumbler slides into position and the safe opens. Sabina grabs me by the elbow.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I lie. My head is spinning, but there's no time to stop.
Inside, jewels, fake documents, stacks of bills in all kinds of currencies and, in the center, a golden arrow that seems to capture and reflect light in an impossible way.
“You did it,” the siren whispers. “I don't know how you did it, but you pulled it off.”
“I simply... collaborated with the air. Like the book said.”
“That's the foundation of all elemental magic,” Sylara nods. “We don't dominate the elements; we collaborate with them.”
“Well, I prefer more direct methods,” a voice interrupts from the doorway.
Althea enters with a smile, carrying what looks like a case.
“The damn chef kept me busy serving appetizers, I had to knock him out with a punch,” she complains, opening the case. “Quick, put the arrow in here.”
Carefully, Sylara takes the golden arrow and places it inside the case, securing it well. Meanwhile, Sabina and I rush to close the safe and return the panel to its original position, making sure everything is exactly as it was.
“Two minutes,” Sylara warns, checking her watch again. “Althea, take this immediately. Sabina and Nell, you need to return to the party as if nothing happened. I'll make sure the guard doesn't suspect anything.”
Althea nods and leaves, taking the case with the arrow. Sylara signals us to wait while she goes out first to check the hallway.
“Clear,” she announces after a few seconds.
“Let's get out of here,” Sabina proposes in whispers, intertwining her fingers with mine. “I don't want to be in this place for one more minute. Screw the party and pretending. We already have what we want.”
We move naturally among groups of guests, smiling and greeting, feigning interest in conversations we barely hear. The main door is getting closer and closer.
And then, as if materialized from nothing, Grigore Voronov appears in front of us and blocks our path.
“Miss Spencer, or should I say...” with a quick movement, he reaches out and rips off my wig, exposing my blonde hair. “Amanda, the masseuse. I knew I'd seen you before.”
The nearby guests turn to look, some letting out exclamations of surprise and the security guards surround us.
“Don't make a scene,” Sabina whispers, squeezing my hand. “We can't use magic in front of all these witnesses.”
“And what do you suggest we do?” I mutter through my teeth.
“Cooperate, for now,” she explains, slowly releasing my hand and raising hers in a gesture of surrender. “We'll find a way out.”
Chapter 18
Sabina
Nell's hand trembles slightly next to mine, but she keeps her chin high, defiant, like she always does.
Voronov's men push us with more roughness than necessary toward what appears to be an empty study, with walls lined with old books and a heavy wooden table in the center. It's a shame that in a little while everything's going to be destroyed.
“Be careful, damn it!” I growl when I see one of them push Nell too hard and throw her to the floor.
He doesn't even respond, just makes a dismissive gesture and locks the door.
