Randall’s eyes opened slowly. Above him was a gorgeously coffered ceiling of dark wood and plaster, unfamiliar.
Where the hell was he?
There had been those two men…two warlocks. No time to react, no time to do anything except go down like a ton of bricks as soon as the first warlock told him to sleep.
And apparently, sleep he had. He took a quick physical survey and realized that he felt almost remarkably well, rested and full of energy. No sign of the kind of knockout drug he’d given Addie when he brought her back to the SED facility in Virginia, which meant the sleep had been a natural one…or at least, a magical one, not something induced by medication.
He sat up and took note of his surroundings. The room was large and furnished with heavy dark antiques, very old and very expensive.
