City of the Lost (Chronicles of Arcana Book 2)

by Debbie Cassidy

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Other books by Debbie Cassidy

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2018, Debbie Cassidy

  All Rights Reserved

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Cover by Vanessa Garkova

  1

  My legs ached and my lungs burned as I hurtled down the empty gray corridor of the university, past notice boards and fire extinguishers pinned to the wall. A big, juicy blood bag with legs, that’s what I was, and the predators on my tail were parched. But I was almost at my destination.

  A week ago, the Lost had been slower—sluggish even—much easier to take down. Now, the fuckers were getting faster and smarter, and we’d had to get inventive. Give them what they loved—a chase. They’d obviously fed enough to get their Sanguinata mojo back; shame it didn’t help them regain sanity. Sucking on neph blood had driven them completely loopy. It had been why The Collective had sealed them up in the Underground railway system. They should have exterminated them all, but someone, somewhere had other ideas, and here we were—seal breached, Lost running wild, and me and my crew having to clean up the mess.

  So, yeah, running shoes would have come in handy right about now, but my boots would have to do. They took me up a flight of stairs, through a set of doors, and into a lecture theatre.

  Noir didn’t look up from his ministrations at the bottom of the descending rows of desks, but Azren did, his steely jaw clenching at the sight of me. Was that relief in the ice man’s eyes? I barreled down the steps, past neat rows of desks, and landed with an oomph by the lecturer’s podium.

  “Tada!” I did the jazz hands.

  Noir snorted in amusement.

  I shot Azren a look. “At least someone appreciates my humor.”

  A cloud passed over the moon, blocking out the silvery light streaming in through the classroom window. Noir finished casting the trap and rushed toward a metal storage cupboard, then pressed his back to the wall beside it. Azren fell into a crouch behind the lectern, and I ducked into the shadows in the alcove where the projector was stored. Noir caught my eye from across the room. His eyes glinted in the gloom, asking me a question.

  I did the non-verbal communication thing, hoping it didn’t make me look constipated. Noir nodded. He got it. I’d led the Lost here with my scent, and once they were inside the room, they’d be able to smell us with their super bloodsucker olfactory system. Hiding meant they’d focus only on our scent and hurtle straight into Noir’s trap. Sure enough, a second later, the door creaked open and they filed in. In no rush now that they had their prey cornered.

  They spread out, five sinewy, hungry Lost crawling down toward us, weaving between the seats, noses in the air as they followed the trail we’d left. Sweat broke out on my brow and my breath grew shallow. Why were they moving so slowly? Why the caution, dammit? Come on, come get me.

  Azren remained completely still, shoulder muscles bunched beneath the thin T-shirt he was wearing. The dagger I’d loaned him was pressed to his side in a white-knuckled grip. If all went to plan, then he wouldn’t need it. Almost there, just a little farther. They hesitated on the final step that led to the main floor where the lecturers did their thing. Could they sense the trap? Could they see the lines of Arcana magic that Noir had etched into the ground?

  The cloud passed and moonlight lanced into the room. The ground glittered, and for a moment, the circle Noir had drawn was clearly visible to the naked eye. From the irate look on Noir’s face, that certainly wasn’t supposed to happen.

  The Lost let out a shriek and began to back up. The creatures may be unhinged, but they obviously weren’t dumb. They’d managed to give us the slip two nights running now. Losing them again wasn’t an option, especially with five dead nephs in their wake.

  The riverbed had welcomed the victims: two homeless neph, a young couple, and a student. My stomach churned with sick guilt. We’d disposed of the bodies, gotten rid of the evidence of this new scourge on our city, because, as much as I hated it, we needed to protect The Collective’s secret. There was way too much uncertainty in Arcana City, way too much conflict between Northside and Southside, and this could be the spark that could ignite it all.

  Giving The Collective a kick up the backside wasn’t an option, not unless we wanted to be the ones swimming with the fishes. The Collective didn’t mess about when it came to silencing threats, and us knowing about their deception was a huge threat. Damn, I wish I could bill them for cleaning up their fucking mess.

  After all we’d done in the past few days, we weren’t losing this pack. I’d have no more deaths on my conscience. The sooner The Collective put their elite team on the case, the fucking better.

  But the Lost were backing up, turning and heading up toward the exit. Shit. There was only one way to lure them into the trap now, only one way to force them to bypass intellect and act on primal need.

  I stepped out of the shadows, swiped the dagger across my palm, and held up my hand.

  “Hey! Dinnertime.” I squeezed my palm, forcing blood to pool out of the wound and drip onto the ground.

  “What are you doing?” Azren hissed.

  Noir didn’t question me; instead, he copied my move, slitting open his palm and stepping out of his hiding place, hand held aloft.

  The Lost froze by the door, heads up, noses sniffing the air, and then with a primal, bloodthirsty scream, they attacked. Streaks of black against the mottled greenish-gray carpet of the lecture theatre, they poured down the stairs and slammed into the Arcana trap. It swallowed them whole, sucking them up into the air and holding them suspended four feet above the ground. They twisted and bucked as magic fizzed and flared around them. The sharp, electric scent of Noir’s signature power stung my nostrils.

  Azren stepped up to the boundary, studying the creatures with interest. “What happens now?”

  Noir joined him. “Now, we end them.” He clicked his fingers and the trap imploded, taking the Lost with it and leaving an echo of their bloodcurdling screams.

  They were gone, leaving nothing but a circular singe mark in the carpet. “Well, this certainly beats hand-to-claw combat.” I sagged against the lectern and sniffed the air—a burning charcoal smell reminiscent of summer days around the outdoor grill. My stomach rumbled. “Anyone for pizza and chicken wings?”

  Azren ate pizza like it was going out of fashion. Noir blinked across the table at him, an uneaten slice of pepperoni on his plate.

  “Amazing, ain’t it?” Trevor said in a stage-whisper. “It’s like the longest inhale, except instead of air, he’s sucking in food. We should enter him in an all-you-can-eat contest.”

  Noir blinked and dropped his gaze to his plate. Azren s
hot Trevor a slit-eyed glare that a couple of weeks ago would have made Trevor lose bladder control. But something had changed between the two males. After the Shedim attack on the house, after Trevor had leapt to Azren’s defense, the dynamic between the two males had shifted into something more than cautious tolerance. Dare I be so bold as to call it hesitant friendship?

  Who would have thought I’d be living with a Shedim, a demon from another reality who could probably snuff me out with a flick of his talon-tipped hands. Now, Azren, the dragon liege’s pet, was part of our team, helping me on a case completely unrelated to the one his mistress had charged me with. There was no obligation for him to do so, and yeah, he said he was simply protecting his mistress’s interests by making sure I didn’t get killed, but still, there was no stopping the warm fuzzies.

  Azren polished off his fifteenth slice of pizza. Thank goodness for the buy one, get one free promotion. I’d opted for two of the deals, and there was still pizza left over.

  He sat back and sighed. “I will miss this most of all, I think.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ouch.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked slightly. Not a smile, but almost. We were getting there. And why did that give me such a thrill?

  He pushed back his chair. “I’m turning in. If we get another hit, come get me.”

  The radio crackled, Missy Honour’s voice a steady hum in the background.

  “Will do,” Gilbert said from his perch by the machine.

  Azren strode from the room, taking his sweet, fresh scent with him.

  Gil had agreed to be our monitor. Not needing to sleep meant he could trawl the underground radio stations and black sites on the infoweb for possible Lost sightings and reports that could lead us to the rogue Shedim whereabouts. Trevor combed the local rags, looking for any odd news stories that might link to Lost attacks or sightings. Between us, we’d managed to minimize the damage done by the creatures that shouldn’t even exist, but we’d come up empty on the rogue Shedim—the whole reason for Azren being here.

  Noir patted the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I should go too.”

  “Aw, so soon?” Trevor whined. “I thought we were going to play chess?”

  Trevor had finally found someone who loved the game as much as he did. He’d even forgiven Noir for being a stinking Arcana.

  Noir smiled warmly, flashing his dimples. “Trust me, Trevor, my friend, I’d rather be curled up by the fire with a brandy and a good game of chess than be anywhere else right now. But, unfortunately, duty calls. I have an event to attend tomorrow morning, and my date likes to talk and expects me to listen. Sleep is essential.”

  My ears pricked up. “Who’s the lucky girl?” Not that I cared, but teasing Noir and trying to ruffle his smooth feathers was always a fun pastime.

  He arched a brow, tongue in cheek. “I believe you met her at the charity ball a few weeks ago.”

  I tapped my fingers on the table. “Be careful, Mr. Noir, you hang out with a woman more than once and she may begin to think you’re an item.”

  “Oh, really?” he drawled. “I believe you and I have hung out several times now.”

  I smirked. “Fighting off bloodsuckers and Shedim really don’t count as dates.”

  He leaned in, his baby blues darkening to wet denim, his expression serious. “It’s certainly more stimulating than polite conversation with the upper crust.”

  We locked gazes, and a frisson of familiar electricity bounced between us. It happened when we got close, or when he accidentally touched me. A little fizz and pop, but neither of us had mentioned it out loud, preferring to focus on the back-and-forth banter, teasing, flirty but harmless, because aside from the fact that Noir was Arcana, and Arcana were off limits, we had a great friend-vibe going that I wasn’t interested in messing with.

  I was the first to break eye contact. “You hear anything more about the elite team?”

  He shook his head, sobering. “The Collective have been close-lipped about any activity of late.”

  Unease writhed beneath my skin. It had been three weeks since we’d discovered the breach; surely they’d have acted by now? The Draconi prince had somehow managed to wangle extra time for us with his bone-munching mother. And thank fuck he had, because with this Lost problem to deal with we were stretched thin. We now had until the lunar eclipse to report back to Elora, which was over two weeks away. The reprieve was being rapidly taken up by hunting for the Lost, and I was afraid that by the time we sorted one problem we’d be too late to sort the other. The clock was ticking, and time was still running out.

  “I’m surprised your friend Fran knew about the elite team,” Noir said. “Have you spoken to her?”

  “No. I tried calling a couple of times but kept getting her busy signal. Eloise thinks Fran may finally have gotten her first assignment outside of Arcana City.”

  He nodded. “Well, I’m sure this elite team will surface soon.” He didn’t sound too confident, though.

  “And if it doesn’t? What if we’re wrong and the team isn’t even real? What if Fran got her wires crossed and The Collective don’t know a damn thing about the breaches in the Underground? It’s been almost a month. It can’t take that long to get shit done.”

  He stared at the empty pizza box. “Then we do what we have to. We recruit neph and we clear the Underground ourselves.”

  He’d resealed the breach once we’d escaped from the Underground, and we’d gone back two days ago to find it still sealed up. The two packs we’d taken out since then must have escaped prior to us sealing the breach—at least I hoped they had; otherwise, it meant we had another breach somewhere.

  “Let’s hope we took out the only Lost that managed to escape.” I rubbed my eyes. “I need sleep.”

  Noir nodded. “Get some rest. It’s late.”

  Almost eleven p.m., to be precise. Usually I’d be up watching old movies, but the last two days had tapped me out. Seeing Noir to the door, I locked up and then headed upstairs to bed.

  A door stood ajar and light poured into the darkness. This wasn’t the way, this wasn’t right, but there was no stopping my feet. There was no going back. The door swung open, and what lay beyond rushed toward me. Death, carnage, and blood greeted me, along with screams for mercy and manic laughter that drifted on the wind like a potent stench. Powerful scaled beasts flew through the air, raining fire on the scattered groups of people on the ground. Frightened faces burned to ash in an instant, and still, the laughter echoed around me. In the distance, up high on a ridge, an emerald dragon perched. It exuded power as its startling green eyes swept over the end of the world.

  “Mine,” it said. “All mine.”

  I sat up slick with sweat and with that icky feeling in the pit of my stomach that accompanies a nightmare. Tendrils of the dream clung to my mind, mainly the yucky death bits, but most predominately, the evil-villain laugh that the dragon had emitted. Is this what they called work stress-related trauma? This was the fourth time in the last two weeks that I’d had a nightmare, and they were all similar—death and carnage and evil dragons. I had a serious Elora complex.

  Shoving off the duvet and pulling on my robe, I headed out of the room in search of a soothing milky concoction to trick my brain into thinking safety and warmth. What would be perfect right now was one of Matron’s herbal teas. I’d have to pay her a visit and pick up some soon.

  The kitchen was shrouded in darkness. I stepped over the threshold and paused, staring at the twin glowing green orbs that stared back at me from the darkness. My heart leapt into my throat to choke me with a triple-fast beat, and then my brain finally deduced what I was seeing.

  I flipped on the lights. “Fucking hell, Azren, if you want to give me a heart attack, can you please do it by feeding me excessive amounts of fatty food instead of lurking in the dark?”

  He grunted in response and then buried his head in his hands.

  Okay, the guy was pretty nonverbal most of the time, but more so of late, a
nd the quick glimpse I’d caught of his face showed smudges under his startling green eyes.

  I padded over to the fridge. “Can’t sleep? Oh, wait, you don’t sleep.”

  He huffed and raised his head. “I don’t have to, but I was bored, so I drifted off ... It wasn’t pleasant.”

  Grabbing the milk, I retrieved a pan from the cupboard. “Bad dreams?”

  “Nightmare. Sleep is overrated.”

  “Agreed.” I poured some milk into the pan. “You want some hot cocoa?”

  He glanced up in confusion.

  Oh, yeah. He probably had no clue what that was. “It’s a milky drink that does wonders to chase away the lingering vestiges of bad dreams. It says so on the packet.” I held out the tub to him. “See?”

  Fucking Cocoa King had hit a gold mine when they’d hit upon adding that to their promotional material, because what kid didn’t want to chase away the nightmares. Cocoa sales had tripled. Looked like it worked on adults too, ha!

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  I made the cocoa in silence. We hadn’t known each other long, but being around the guy almost constantly for the better part of a month had attuned me to some of his more regular moods. This one was what I called the classic dark brood: bottom lip slightly pouted, brows fractionally drawn, and gaze distant. Yep, this was one of my favorites because I could so relate.

  “Okay, quit stealing my thunder with the classic brooding pose. Spill. What crawled up your arse and died?”

  He was silent for a long beat, no eye roll, no snarky comment about my choice of phrase. Nothing. Damn, this was bad.

  He ran his hand over his face and sighed. “The lunar eclipse is approaching, and we have nothing to show my liege.” He looked right at me, and my stomach did a mini flip.