Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel)

by Linsey Hall

  “What’s up with that hoodie?” I asked.

  “Magic. I still look like me—or like Frog Me—but the hoodie makes it hard to get a good look.”

  “We should have just bought some of those.”

  “No. If you can be recognized, they’d still recognize you if they looked for a few seconds.” She glowered. “Me, though. I tried to tell them I didn’t need a potion.”

  “They just wanted to turn you into a frog,” Mac said. “Joke’s on them, though. You make a hot frog.”

  She laughed, a sound more like a ribbet than laughter. “Let’s go, Barbie.”

  I looked at Quinn. “See you later. And thanks for the backup.”

  “No problem.”

  Carrow and I exited the pub, making our way out through the alley and back into Convent Garden. The toilet roll shop was closed, as usual, but the street itself had a few more people.

  “Okay, pal,” Mac said. “We’re on your turf, and I’ve got no idea where to go.”

  “I’ve got this.” Confidence suffused me. This was my turf. And I might not have been completely happy here, but I sure as hell knew my way around. “Come on. We’ll catch the Tube.”

  “The Tube?”

  “It’s the Underground.”

  “Oh, right. The train that goes under the earth. You humans are crazy.”

  “You really don’t come here much?”

  “Why would I?” Mac asked. “You saw Guild City, it’s great.”

  “Yeah, it was.” I tugged on her. “Now come on.”

  We hurried to the nearest station, passing bustling bars and pubs and full flower boxes. Musicians played in front of the green and glass market building, and a wagon filled with flowers sat in the middle of the street as an art installation. It was one of my favorite parts of London, and I was glad that Mac got to see it when it was at its best.

  We were nearly to the Underground station when I caught sight of a flyer in a pub window.

  My face, staring straight out.

  It was my College of Policing photo.

  Oh, that burned.

  Banks. That bastard. With the serial killer now in the news, he was under more pressure to catch someone, and he was trying to get me for it.

  “You’re on wanted posters?” Mac asked.

  “Yeah.” My stomach pitched. We had to fix this. Now.

  I dragged Mac toward the sign over the stairs leading to the Underground. I reloaded my Oyster card to get us through the barriers, then found our platform, tapping my foot impatiently as I waited for the train to arrive.

  When it did, we crammed in with everyone else. The ride itself was uneventful, besides the fact that Mac couldn’t stop muttering, “Mind the gap,” in different funny voices. Combined with her frog face, it was a real trip. One lady stared too long, and I explained that Mac was a makeup artist.

  Mostly though, I kept my head tilted down to avoid the stares of men.

  When the train reached our destination, I pulled Mac off and hurried up the stairs to the street.

  “Thankfully, this part of town is quieter at night,” I said.

  “And more boring.” Mac looked up at the towering buildings. The streets were nearly empty.

  “That’s good for us.” I led us to the morgue, a building near the police station that I’d rarely visited. We found a good spot across the street from the entrance, and I pulled Mac into an alcove. Together, we stared at the two policemen who stood guard.

  “Well, damn,” Mac said. “How are we going to get in there?”

  12

  Carrow

  Unfortunately, the cops on duty at the morgue looked alert and ready for anything.

  “We really can’t make a scene on the street,” I said.

  “Well, the entrance is inside an alcove.” She pointed at the building. “And it looks like there are nooks on either side. If we could get them back in there, they’d be mostly hidden from the street.”

  “And do what, kill them?”

  Mac’s jaw dropped. “Uh, no.”

  “Whew. Because that is not my scene.”

  “No kidding. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be trying to prove yourself innocent of a murder.”

  “True enough.” I looked around warily, knowing that all of London was out for my head. Corrigan’s text messages made it clear enough, and now that I was in the real world again, I felt like I had a target on my back.

  I shook the worries away and focused on the front door. “There’s also a card scanner at the entrance. Everyone has a badge and has to swipe their way in.”

  “That’s harder. There will be an alarm if we just break in, right?”

  “Yeah. The police will have badges on them, though, I would think.” At that moment, two people in long white lab coats exited the building, badges around their necks. “Ooh, look at them. They look official.”

  “Those coats would make us blend in if we ran into anyone in the hall.”

  “I like how you’re thinking.” The two figures nodded at the cops, then headed across the street toward the alley where we stood. “They’re coming toward us. It’s a sign.”

  “Let’s follow them and borrow their stuff,” Mac said.

  “Borrow. Yeah. Borrow.”

  As they neared, I got a better look at their faces. The figure on the left was a slight man with pale hair and large glasses. The woman beside him was a bit taller, with a wild halo of dark curly hair and a stern expression. They reached our side of the street and turned left.

  I peered after them, debating. “Are we just going to knock them out? They’re scientists. They didn’t exactly sign up for a life of random concussions.”

  “I’ve got it, don’t worry. Come on.” She left our alley and headed after them, walking quickly.

  “What are you going to do?” I whispered.

  “I’m a seer, but if I really put my power into it, I can disorient people with a touch.” She shrugged. “Can’t do it much, though. Takes a lot of power, then I have to recoup my strength.”

  “Let’s try it, then.”

  She nodded.

  Once we had turned a corner and were out of view of the policemen, we picked up the pace until we were only a meter behind the scientists. Their backs stiffened, and together, they looked back at us. I gave a huge smile, going for charmingly disarming, like someone who was looking for directions. Instead, they grimaced and cringed.

  Okay, maybe I’d nailed creepy instead of disarming.

  Mac’s hands shot out, and she grabbed each person by the arm. Her magic pulsed briefly, and their eyes started to cross.

  “It’s working.” Mac’s voice sounded strained.

  They stood there, swaying. I ran around behind them and tugged their white coats off. Mac made sure to keep contact with them as I yanked the white fabric from their shoulders. Last, I took the badges.

  “I’ve got them,” I said.

  Mac let go, and they stared at her, dazed. Gently, she pivoted them in the direction they’d been heading. She gave them a little nudge that set them walking.

  I looked at her, brows raised. “Impressive.”

  “Yeah. I’m probably tapped out on that, though. Won’t be able to play the same trick on the guards. Not unless we can wait a while for me to recoup my powers.”

  “Can’t.” I handed her a jacket and a badge. “Let’s try our luck. Maybe they’ll assume we’re new and won’t look at our credentials.”

  She nodded and shrugged into the jacket, then tugged the hood down from her face, since it just didn’t go with the white coat.

  “How do I look?” She gave a faint froggy cringe.

  “Honestly, not that bad. You’re still kind of green, but it’s very faint now.”

  “Some of the magic from the hoodie is still working, just not as much as if I wore the hood.”

  “It’ll have to do. You look like you ate bad seafood and maybe smooshed your nose on a door.”

  “Fantastic.” She buttoned up the white coat. />
  I did the same, buttoning it so that it covered my jacket and hoodie. It was a lumpy combo, but it worked. I put the badge over my head next, and then Mac and I strode toward the morgue with confident strides that suggested we knew what we were doing.

  We really didn’t.

  At least, I didn’t.

  I could wing it, though.

  As we got close enough to see the guards’ faces well, I gave a friendly nod. They did a double take at me and my new supermodel face, then frowned at Mac, who was slightly greener under the bright lights. Both men were of average height and build, with nondescript faces.

  “Haven’t seen you around,” said the one on the left.

  “New.” I smiled, striding past him toward the door. “Have a good night.”

  “Good night.” He nodded at me, smiling.

  Victory!

  “Hold on a moment,” the one on the right said, his voice ringing with authority.

  I nearly groaned. This was not what I needed right now. One out of two wasn’t bad, except when it was two suspicious policemen. But it wasn’t unexpected.

  I gave a smile and turned to find him right behind me. The smiling guard had approached as well, and he stood in front of Mac, frowning at her.

  Crap.

  I eyed the alcove to my left. There were about two meters of space hidden behind a wall that faced the street. A bench sat there, out of the frequent rain and infrequent sun. There was an identical alcove on Mac’s side of the entryway.

  They were our best bets for doing this quietly.

  I moved toward my alcove, and the policeman frowned at me. I hoped he’d follow so that I could try to knock him out with my limited self-defense skills, but he reached for his radio instead.

  Damn it.

  I lunged for him, grabbing his arm and yanking him toward me.

  “What are you—”

  I cut off his words with a quick, hard punch to the face. He stumbled backward, then surged toward me, shaking his head like a bull.

  Crap. I so wasn't prepared for this.

  I kicked out, nailing him in the stomach. He huffed out a breath and doubled over, then lunged upward and swung a punch for my head. I dodged, taking a glancing blow to the cheek that made my head ring.

  To my left, Mac was landing a series of successful punches to her policeman. She either had a natural skill or spent Friday nights in a fight ring. Either way, I was impressed.

  My skills, however, were sadly lacking. The guard lunged for me again, grabbing my arm in a tight grip. I kicked, my foot colliding with his thigh. He grunted but didn’t let go.

  Panic fluttered as I struck out, nailing him in the cheek again. He still didn't release me, and I began to feel like prey.

  A flash of gray appeared from the corner of my eye, and a blur shot for the policeman’s head. It collided with him, and a tiny blast of percussive magic slammed into him and echoed through the air, making my head pound.

  The blur had been a raccoon—Cordelia?—and it dropped to the ground and ran away as the policeman began to fall.

  Holy crap.

  I grabbed the policeman at the last minute, stopping his unconscious body from slamming to the ground in a way that could give him a head injury. I wanted to get into the morgue, not kill the poor guy.

  Assuming he was alive.

  Oh please, be alive.

  I leaned over him, feeling for his pulse.

  There! Faint and reedy, but there.

  My hand touched him, and a vision flashed in my mind. The policeman, driving his car later today. He crashed into another car.

  Oh, crap.

  I dug into his pocket, finding his keys and tossing them into the bushes where he’d never look. There. Problem solved. He couldn’t drive his car, so he couldn’t crash. I’d consider it a job well done.

  I turned to see Mac leaning over her unconscious policeman, removing his handcuffs from his belt.

  She looked up at me. “Cuff him. Tie his shoelaces together.”

  I did as she said, occasionally shooting worried glances at the policeman. “Will he be okay?”

  “What happened to him? You knock him out?”

  “No, that raccoon from Guild City showed up and bowled him over.”

  Mac looked up, her eyes wide. “A what from Guild City?”

  “That raccoon I pointed out before. I swear it was Cordelia.”

  She pursed her lips. “Cordelia.”

  “Yeah. That was what I called her when I’d see her in the alley behind my old flat.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Hmm?” I groaned, tilting my head back. “That means you think I’m crazy, doesn’t it?”

  She shrugged. “Maybe. More likely, you’re getting a familiar.”

  “Like, a witch’s familiar?”

  “Yeah, but you’re not a witch. Not from your description of your powers.” She looked around at the empty street, as if she’d just remembered where we were. “Actually, we should discuss this later.”

  “No kidding.” I stood and dragged the policeman behind the bench. If someone looked closely, they’d find him, but it would have to do for now.

  Mac did the same with her guy, and we met at the front door. I raised my badge and gave her a look. “We’ve got this.”

  “Totally.”

  “And thanks for your help.”

  She grinned. “I’m always up for an adventure.”

  “Well, I think this will deliver.” I swiped the card, and the door buzzed. I pushed it open with my elbow, not wanting to leave any prints, and waited for Mac.

  “I’d better scan this one. Just in case it counts how many people enter.” She scanned, then followed me in.

  Quickly, I pulled on a thin pair of leather gloves that I kept in my jacket pocket. I didn’t want to leave any prints behind. Properly protected, I hurried to the wall, where a directory was posted. I searched it, finding my destination at the bottom. “Looks like it’s in the basement.”

  “Ooh, perfectly creepy.”

  “Let’s go.” I strode toward the stairs, not wanting to get stuck in an elevator. The building echoed hollowly around us, and I doubted there were many more people here at this hour.

  We took the stairs two at a time, reaching the morgue a minute later. I took mental stock of the potions that Eve had given me. They were shoved in my pockets, and I was grateful they hadn’t broken in the scuffle with the guards.

  The morgue was quiet and cold as we entered.

  “He would have been a recent autopsy,” I said, gazing at the wall covered in dozens of little metal doors where the bodies were kept on ice. Or whatever it was that they kept bodies on.

  “Do you know his name?”

  “No.” I scanned the numbered doors. “Damn it, there are so many.”

  “Maybe the computer system will say. Or there might be notes on a desk.”

  We split up, searching the space. I didn’t have much familiarity with the morgue, and the enormity of the task ahead of us was nerve-racking.

  Then I heard the footsteps in the hall.

  Oh, no.

  I met Mac’s gaze, and mouthed, “Hide.”

  13

  Carrow

  Mac and I flattened our backs against the wall on either side of the door. As the footsteps approached, I fingered the potions in my pocket, then withdrew the mind control one, carefully unscrewing the cap. When the figure entered, elation shot through me.

  She wore a white coat like ours. A security guard might not know where my guy was, but this person would.

  I dumped the powdery potion into my hand and jumped, grabbing the woman by her arm and yanking her toward me. She opened her mouth to scream, and I raised my hand, blowing the powder in her face.

  She sucked in a lungful of the purple powder and went still.

  “Holy crap, that worked,” I said.

  Mac grinned. “Of course. Eve is the best.”

  I looked at the woman, who had sleek red hair and blue glasses.
Her green eyes were unfocused, but she was breathing normally.

  “Tell me where the guy with the neck tattoo is located,” I said. “He came in two nights ago with a bashed head.”

  She blinked, her face twisting in a grimace. Awareness flashed in her eyes, briefly, then anger and resistance. She could obviously feel the potion and fought it, but finally, her face crumpled in defeat. She turned and pointed to one of the little doors. “He’s number thirteen.”

  “Lucky number thirteen,” Mac said.

  “Is he missing any organs?” I asked.

  Her jaw clenched as she fought the potion that forced her to speak.

  “Any missing organs?” I demanded.

  “He’s missing his—” Her eyelids fluttered, and she sagged, her eyes closing in exhaustion. I caught her, stopping her from slamming her head into the desk.

  “That’s all we’ll get out of her,” Mac said.

  Gently, I laid her on the ground and strode to number thirteen. It was at waist level, and I reached for the handle.

  It wasn’t locked, and the door opened silently. I pulled the tray out, and the black bag containing the body was stark against the steel table.

  I swallowed hard and looked up at Mac. “I don’t suppose you have a fondness for dead bodies and want to do this bit?”

  “What, look inside his chest?”

  “No. Just open it and check who he is.”

  “Oh, well, in that case…no.” She stepped back for good measure.

  “Damn.” I unzipped it, praying that there was only one guy with a neck tattoo and bashed-in head in the morgue.

  It was my guy, at least according to the tattoo. I thought the head injury looked familiar, but they probably all looked similar when they were this gruesome. “It’s him. Maybe we can check the records.”

  I unzipped the bag further, remembering that they often tied the identification to the toe. As expected, I found the little tag along with his official number and no name. I removed it and carried it over to the computer terminal.