Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel)

by Linsey Hall

  Mac left her spot along the wall and joined me. “You know the password?”

  “Nope.” And the damned computer just sat silently, staring at me. Smug and locked. It took about two minutes to realize I had no chance of getting into the bloody thing. And there was no paperwork sitting out on the desk or other work surfaces.

  Dread unfurled in my chest, and I looked at Mac. “None of Eve’s potions figure out a computer password, will they?”

  She grimaced and shook her head. “You’re going to have to do it, aren’t you?”

  I nodded, my stomach pitching. “I don’t even know what most of the organs look like.”

  Mac groaned. “Let’s make it quick.”

  I nodded, turning back to the body. “This is the worst.”

  “Worse than going to prison?”

  “Not worse than that.” I moved on autopilot, my mind screaming in horror as I stared at the sewn-up Y-shaped incision on the man’s chest.

  Nope. There was no time to freak out, and even less time to wimp out.

  I sucked in a breath, spun around, and found some tools on a side table. A pair of scissors beckoned, and I grabbed them, along with a clamp-like thing. I swapped out my leather gloves for some medical ones, working on autopilot.

  I returned to the body and cut the stitches, then peeled the skin back.

  “Oh, I’m going to faint.” Mac sidled farther back.

  I growled at Mac. “Don’t brag. Not all of us have the luxury of passing out.”

  “I’ll buy you a drink after this.”

  “A big one,” I muttered, and considered the next gruesome task before me.

  The inside of the man looked like a mess, but not in the way I’d anticipated. Instead of a jumble of organs, I found a handful of plastic bags stuffed in beneath the ribs like the world’s goriest weekly shop. If I wanted to know what was missing, I’d have to open the bags and pray that I still remembered something from biology class.

  “Damn it,” I whispered, and removed the breastbone.

  With my squeamish assistant standing well away from the corpse, I opened the bags and took my best guess at what I was seeing. The intestines were easy enough, as were the lungs and kidneys. Finally, by process of elimination, I realized what was missing.

  “It’s the heart,” I said, willing my stomach not to give up the fight. If I puked on him, I would have to kill myself. I certainly couldn’t continue living with that visual seared behind my eyes.

  Hang on.

  A weird burn mark distracted me from the disgusting thoughts. “What’s this?”

  “Don’t make me look up close.”

  “Suck it up and get over here.”

  She groaned and joined me. We both stared into the chest cavity at the spot where the man’s heart had once been. A symbol had been burned inside--three stars, overlapping.

  “That was created by magic,” Mac said.

  “It has to be what the Devil sent me here to find.” I frowned at it. “Is it the same as the necromancer’s mark?”

  “I don’t think so. But why does he know so much about this murder?”

  “That’s what I want to know.” I stripped off one of the gloves and yanked my mobile from my pocket, taking a picture. I got a few from different angles, but it was too dark.

  I turned on the flash and took another picture.

  A faint rumbling sounded, and I frowned. “Do you hear that?”

  “Yeah, it’s coming from—”

  Black smoke billowed from the man’s chest, rising straight from the symbol that had been burned into his flesh.

  I jumped backward, but it was too late. The smoke wrapped around me, squeezing my limbs tight. “Mac!”

  “I feel it, too.” Her face was pinched tight with pain. “Hard to breathe.”

  I gasped, trying to get enough air into my lungs. Prickles raced over my skin like spiders. “What’s happening?”

  “Magic.” She groaned, then said, “Curse them, Hecate. Oh, so mighty shall you be.”

  “What?”

  “The witches.” Her voice sounded even more squeezed.

  Oh! The prank she’d played on them. The bust of Hecate that she’d poured a potion on should be screaming now. Thank fates, because this spell was making me start to feel weak.

  “How will they find us?” It took all my strength to speak.

  “If I don’t respond, they’ll use a locater charm.”

  “Respond?”

  A voice sounded from the amulet around Mac’s neck. “You clever bitch, Mac! Where are you? Stop this cursed thing right now!”

  I could hear Hecate shrieking in the background like a horror movie victim. It was so loud that any nearby guards might hear.

  I struggled against the magic that bound me, sucking more strength from me with every second. My vision was starting to blur and my legs to tremble.

  “I can’t answer them,” Mac said. “Not without touching the charm.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I tried to hobble to her, hoping I could press my forehead against the charm. Or maybe fall against her.

  Instead, I toppled over onto the ground, hitting it so hard that my vision went black for a moment. Footsteps sounded from the floor above. Or maybe that was my imagination.

  Were guards coming?

  Was I going to be discovered here, next to the torn-open body of the victim?

  Fear chilled my skin.

  “My, my, what have we here?” A feminine voice sounded from my left.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I barely caught sight of Coraline. She stood in a cloud of pink light, somehow projecting her form into the morgue. Her dark hair was streaked with green that matched the brilliant emerald of her eyes. She tapped her foot, staring at us. “Got yourself into quite a pickle, Mac.”

  “Get us out of here, and I’ll tell you the code to shut her up.”

  “Oh, you will, all right.” Coraline raised her hands and began to chant. Magic sparked around her palms, and a faint white light surrounded Mac and me.

  The evil that gripped us so tightly seemed to loosen, but Coraline didn’t stop chanting. Her brow furrowed from the effort, and she grimaced. “Powerful dark magic.”

  Her own power continued to work, and I struggled, finally able to move my limbs a bit. Coraline grunted and forced more of her magic toward us.

  “Hurry,” Mac said. “Guards are coming. Humans.”

  “You idiots.” Coraline shoved another blast of magic at us, and the darkness that bound me finally disappeared.

  I gasped, scrambling to my feet.

  “The code, Mac,” Coraline demanded.

  “Macbeth O’Connell is the most amazing Magica ever,” Mac said.

  “Seriously?” Coraline raised her brows.

  “Say that, and Hecate will shut up.” Mac grinned. “Can we get a ride back to Guild City with your nice portal there?”

  “No.” Coraline and her pink light disappeared.

  “Damn it.” Mac turned to me. “We need to get a move on.”

  “No kidding.”

  I turned back to the body as a pair of guards burst into the room. Both were men of average height but grim demeanors, though their faces blanched when they saw the results of my amateur autopsy spread out around the room.

  “Raise your hands,” demanded the younger one, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five.

  Instead, I shoved my hand into my pocket and drew out a freezing charm. I chucked the thing at them, praying it would work. The dusty blue cloud exploded into the air, and the men froze solid.

  “That ought to buy us a few minutes.” I turned back to the body. There was no point in trying to put it back together. The guards had seen what we were doing. Fortunately, I still didn’t look like me.

  I grabbed a plastic bag and shoved my gross gloves in them, then put it in my pocket, not wanting to leave anything with my fingerprints behind. I put my leather gloves on, then wiped the scissors and clamp off with a paper towe
l, getting rid of any prints, and returned them to the table.

  Mac and I hurried from the room, skirting around the frozen guards and moving as quickly as we could without full-on running. We made it to the top floor and strode toward the main exit.

  I prayed there were no other guards in the building.

  We were nearly to the main doors when they opened, and two new cops walked in.

  Shit.

  They both got a good look at our faces, and I prayed the potions were still working.

  “Other way,” I whispered, and we spun on our heels and hightailed it deeper into the building.

  “Hey, you there!” shouted one of the cops.

  “Run.” I sprinted down the hall, fumbling in my pocket for the other freezing potion bomb.

  Finally, my fingers closed around it. I grabbed it and chucked it behind me, looking back in time to see it explode in front of one of the cops. He froze solid, but the other one wasn’t in the line of fire. He kept running for us, face twisted in a grimace.

  I sprinted on, pushing myself until my lungs burned. Mac easily kept up, as her legs were longer than mine. We raced down the hall, taking the first right, and sprinted to the end. An office on our right had an open door, and we dashed inside. A large window beckoned, showing the street beyond.

  “Thank fates we’re on street level.” Mac grabbed the chair from behind the desk and tossed it at the window. The glass shattered.

  Wow, breaking out of windows was getting to be a habit with me.

  An alarm shrieked as we climbed out and landed on the pavement. We sprinted away from the building. I looked back in time to see the officer lean out the window, his gaze on mine.

  Oh, please don’t catch us.

  14

  Carrow

  Mac and I raced away from the morgue. Behind us, the cop jumped out of the window, tripped, and landed on his knees.

  Oh, thank God for luck.

  We ran faster, leaving him behind as we turned one street corner, and then another. As we sprinted down the pavement, we tore off our stolen white coats, chucking them into an alley as we passed. I kept the badge since that probably had my fingerprints on it. Police sirens sounded from a street away, and my heartbeat thundered.

  “Are those for us?” Mac demanded.

  “Oh, yeah, they’re for us.”

  “Damn it. I don’t want to go to human jail.”

  “Same.” We turned right, and I spotted a cab. With the cops on our tail and the Tube station still several streets away, it was worth the splurge. I shot my hand up in the air, praying.

  The cab spotted us, changing lanes to come to a stop at the curb.

  “Thank you.” I climbed in, Mac following. “Covent Garden,” I told the driver. “The market.”

  If the cops made the connection between us and this cabbie—unlikely, but I was paranoid—I didn’t want to lead them straight to the Haunted Hound.

  He nodded. “Be there in a jiff.”

  My heart thundered the whole way to Convent Garden, then the entire way to the Haunted Hound. Once we made it to the safety of the pub, Mac sagged against the door. “Thank fates we’re back.”

  “They can’t get in here?” I asked, searching the small crowd warily. No one turned toward us but Quinn, who smiled at us from the bar.

  “Not unless they have magic.” Mac straightened. “Now, it’s time for a drink.”

  “And they don’t. Have magic, I mean.” Finally, I relaxed.

  Mac looked at me, her eyes wide. “You changed back.”

  “To myself?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So did you. When did that happen?”

  “I don’t know. I was in such a panic, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

  “Could it have been when the guards were chasing us?”

  “Maybe.”

  Shit. They had looked right at us. Had they seen my real face after all?

  I drew in a shuddering breath. They might not get me for the murder, but I didn’t want to be caught desecrating a body. I rubbed my hands over my face.

  Mac grabbed my arm. “Come on. Let’s get that drink. I’d say we earned it.”

  “Yeah. Yeah.”

  She pulled me toward the bar, where Quinn waited. Handsome as ever, he eyed us up and down, taking in our disheveled appearances and heavy breathing. “Have fun, ladies?”

  “Sure.” I sat, staring at the offerings behind the bar, having no idea what I wanted. My mind spun with everything that had happened.

  “Two Hound’s Prides,” Mac said.

  “Coming right up.”

  “What’s a Hound’s Pride?” I asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not really, actually.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She grinned. “But it’s just a local ale, made here.”

  “Great. Perfect.”

  Quinn set two pints in front of us, and I grabbed one gratefully, drinking half of it in huge gulps. I looked up at Mac. “What the hell was the dark magic that froze us like that?”

  “Necromancer magic, probably.”

  “Did my mobile’s flash make it go off?”

  Mac shrugged. “Maybe it didn't like the light. And you did reveal his work.”

  “But…why? What was the point?”

  “There probably was no point. It could be a magical remnant of the spell that was performed when the person was murdered. All magic decays, and when it does, dangerous things can happen.”

  “How is it different than the little spiral shaped burn mark?” I asked.

  “The spiral is the generic mark of the necromancer. That big star burn is something else entirely. Part of his magic, yes, but it’s more specific.” Mac shrugged. “I don’t know exactly what it means.”

  Eve appeared at my side as I set the pint down. She wore a flowing purple dress, and her wings glittered under the lights over the bar. Her raven flew behind her, but no one acknowledged the bird, so I didn’t either. That topic seemed to be off-limits. She took a seat next to me. “You finished with your mission?”

  “Yes. Thank you for the potions. They saved our butts.”

  “Success?”

  Mac grinned. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

  Mac, Eve, and Quinn all stared at me, radiating helpful energy.

  “Well, what’d you find?” Eve asked.

  I pulled the mobile out of my pocket. Normally, I wouldn’t share my clues with anyone. Now, I had a lovely, weird magical crew that seemed willing to help me, and it was freaking cool.

  I pulled up the picture and laid the mobile on the bar.

  Everyone leaned over to look at it.

  “Ew,” Eve said. The raven sitting behind her on the table twitched.

  I grimaced in sympathy. “Truer words never spoken.”

  “I don’t recognize that symbol,” said Quinn.

  “Neither do I,” Eve replied. “But the necromancer took the heart.”

  “What kind of spell could he or she perform with it?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Mac said. “All sorts, I guess. Maybe he’s trying to create more power with it.”

  I looked at Eve and Quinn, who both shrugged. I couldn’t help but wonder what Beatrix’s body had been used for, but I forced the thought back. Dwelling on it would only distract me, and in a bad way. But since my friends had no more information…

  I slugged back the last of my ale and put the mobile away. “Right. I think I need a word with the Devil.”

  Mac had agreed to let me see the Devil alone. She’d wanted to come as backup, but it was too dangerous. He couldn’t control my mind, which made me the perfect person to interrogate him about the symbol inside the body.

  He’d expected it to be there, or at least, he’d expected something to be there.

  I needed to know why.

  Eve had given me a small assortment of protective potions—on the house, she’d said. I still planned to pay her back someday, somehow.

  As I strode toward the
Devil’s tower, I felt a presence alongside me. I looked left and right, finally spotting Cordelia running along the other side of the street, keeping pace with me. The fat little raccoon was fast.

  “What are you doing, Cordelia?” I called, feeling crazy for talking to her like this. It was one thing to chat with her while I was drinking my boxed wine and knowing she’d never respond.

  But this?

  I almost expected her to say something back to me.

  Cordelia, however, didn’t so much as glance at me. And as we neared the vampire’s tower, she turned left down an alley and disappeared.

  Weird.

  When I reached the edge of the clearing in front of the vampire’s tower, I stopped and stared at it.

  He probably wasn’t the murderer, right?

  Right.

  I swallowed hard and stepped forward. He was certainly dangerous, and he very well might know a lot about the murderer, but my gut said he wasn’t the killer. It also said that he knew something valuable about the crime.

  Just in case, though, I stuck my hand into the pocket of my leather jacket and let my fingertips brush across the smooth glass surfaces of the potion bombs that Eve had given me. Freezing, healing, and smoke.

  I had backup. And Mac had sworn to come get me if I didn’t contact her in an hour. It was more than I’d ever had before, and I was grateful.

  As I neared the two guards, I recognized them. Once again, they made me think of animals—lions and panthers. Just like Quinn. Their massive hands were folded in front of their bodies as they stared impassively at me.

  I opened my mouth to request an audience with their boss, but the one on the left just turned and opened the door for me, gesturing for me to enter. Quickly, I glanced between the two of them, not sure if I liked this kind of welcome.

  Not that it necessarily mattered. I had to go in, whether I liked it or not. I gave the city behind me one last look, then strode through the doors. The hostess who waited for me was the same, and she inclined her head. “Welcome back.”

  “Expecting me?”

  She smiled and shrugged. “Come this way.”

  She led me through the club again. Tonight, it was heaving. The hour was just past midnight, and the chairs and tables were full. A band played onstage—a trio of women with snakes for hair. Everyone in the place avoided looking right at them, though they were dancing along to the music.