Dark Secrets

by Hall, Linsey

  “Hey, Madame Duvoir. Got some time to lend us a hand?”

  “All the time in the world.” She raised her brows. “You, however, will be in a world of hurt when the boss shows up.”

  “How long do we have?” Neve asked.

  Madame Duvoir shrugged. “Well, it’s Thursday, so he’s down at Gigi’s. The show has started, but he’s already received word that there are intruders on the docks.”

  Us.

  “So it depends on how good the show is,” Madame Duvoir said. “If it’s good enough to distract him, he might just send more Marsh Men. If it’s not…”

  “He’ll come himself.” There was a slightly bloodthirsty lilt to Grey’s voice. It would serve me well not to be distracted by his sophisticated manners and elegant suits. He was ruthless at heart, likely addicted to danger.

  “Just come on up,” Madame Duvoir said.

  “You won’t get in trouble?” I asked, guilt streaking through me. If the boss was so dangerous, and she worked for him…

  I desperately needed her help—Mac and Seraphia needed her help—but I couldn’t help worrying about her.

  Madame Duvoir waved her hand. “Don’t fret. I do what I want.”

  “Come on.” Neve scaled the ladder.

  I followed her, with Grey bringing up the rear.

  Madame Duvoir’s place was a large, open space and dimly lit, outfitted with Bohemian décor.

  “This way.” Madam Duvoir led us toward a round table.

  We sat, and she leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest. “So, what do you have for me?”

  I pulled the book out of my bag, along with the two locks of hair. I put them on the table in front of her and told her the tale.

  Her expression was impassive as she listened. When I finished, she looked at Grey. “And you’re cursed, too?”

  “My memory has been modified.”

  “Could be a spell,” she said. “Not as degenerative as a curse, but it would get the job done.”

  “Can you determine what it is?” he asked.

  “For the right price.”

  “Which is?”

  She named a number that made my brows go up. It had more zeros than I usually saw in a year, but Grey just nodded. “It will be transferred immediately.”

  She pursed her lips and stared at him.

  He smiled blandly and raised his wrist to his lips, speaking into his comms charm. “Miranda, could you transfer fifty thousand pounds to the account of Madame Duvoir in Magic Side, Chicago?”

  “Immediately, sir.”

  “Excellent.” Madame Duvoir said. “Everyone knows how efficient your Miranda is.”

  “Indeed.”

  “Now, let’s see this book.” Madam Duvoir pulled it across the table and flipped it open. She reached for the two locks of hair as well, frowning as she touched them. “You said these are cursed?”

  “Yes.”

  “They’re not cursed.”

  “Yes, they are.” Confusion pulled at me. “Mac and Seraphia were surrounded by the same shadows that hovered around the city wall. Then they became ill.”

  “It’s not a curse. I would feel it.”

  “Try harder.” Frustration surged through my veins.

  “Mind your manners.” Madame Duvoir glared. “I’m never wrong.”

  “The book.” Grey’s tone was soothing, and he gripped my hand under the table. Gently, as if he were trying to soothe me as well.

  It didn’t work. Much.

  But I could see his point. We needed whatever info we could get out of Madame Duvoir. I could grill her on Mac and Seraphia once we had more.

  Madame Duvoir leaned over the book, studying it, absorbing it. She breathed deeply through her nose and stared at it with a dagger glare. “This is definitely cursed.”

  “But not the same curse that’s on Mac and Seraphia?” I asked.

  “Like I said, they aren’t cursed.”

  It made no freaking sense, but I pressed my lips together and waited.

  Madame Duvoir held out a hand to Grey. “May I?”

  “Yes.”

  She touched his free hand, closed her eyes, and focused. “You are cursed as well. The curse is similar to the one on this book.”

  “And therefore, similar to the curse on the wall,” Grey said. “They feel identical.”

  Madame Duvoir nodded. “I’m going to look into this more closely.”

  She rose and carried the book to a table on the far side of the room, which was covered in a variety of crystals and silver tools.

  Placing the book in the center of the table, she circled it with a ring of red powder, lit two pale green candles, whispered an incantation, and blew them out. The smoke was much thicker than it should have been. Trails of it spiraled toward the book in strange patterns. Madame Duvoir turned to us, her eyes gleaming with interest. “You’ve got quite the problem on your hands.”

  I leaned toward her. “Who cast the curse?”

  “That, I cannot tell you, but it was likely a sorcerer, given the type of magic. However, I do know how you can break it.”

  Elation surged through me. “That will save my friends.”

  “They’re not cursed, honey.”

  Irritation prickled my skin, followed by the chill of fear.

  Grey’s grip on my hand tightened, bringing me back to myself before I snapped.

  “If you can break the curse on the wall, you might learn more about your friends’ situation,” Madame Duvoir continued. “And you may fix the Devil’s memory as well.”

  “You can’t break the curse on my mind?” Grey asked.

  “I cannot. Messing around with minds is beyond my power. But I can give you a spell to break the curse on the city wall. From there, you are likely to find more clues.”

  Even if that was all we’d get from her, it was still a lot.

  Madame Duvoir scribbled something on a piece of paper, then collected a small bag of crystals and handed them to Grey. “These are on the house because I feel bad about your memory. You still need a few ingredients, and this spell is best cast when the moon is at its zenith.”

  I stared at the paper in Grey’s hand. An incantation was written on it, along with instructions and a complicated drawing of swirls and spirals. But what if—

  A shout sounded from below, and Neve hopped up. “Time to leave. The boss’s goons are here.”

  “You’d better go,” Madame Duvoir said. “He’ll cut you apart as soon as he looks at you.”

  9

  Grey

  Men shouted from below us, and Madame Duvoir gestured for us to follow. “Come on,” she said. “I can get you out the back way.”

  “Will we avoid his goons?” Ms. Cross asked.

  “Most of them,” Madame Duvoir said, cutting across her large flat. “Maybe not all.”

  I grabbed Carrow’s hand, and we raced after her.

  “Do you have one of those transportation charms you took off the demon back at the Crescent Hotel?” I asked Carrow.

  I needed to know she had a quick and safe way out of this. I could cover her until she was through to Guild City.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I keep one on me, just in case.”

  “Won’t work here,” Madame Duvoir said. “The boss has this whole section blocked off. There are no easy escapes from his turf.”

  Clever bastard. I’d done the same at my tower.

  “This way.” She led us down a wide corridor.

  We crept along the wooden boards, heading toward a part of the building we hadn’t been in before. Outside the brick walls, I heard men running along the alley.

  “Some of them know about the back exit,” Madame Duvoir explained.

  “We just need to get to the boat,” said Ms. Cross.

  The Curse Diviner muttered, “They probably know about that, too.”

  Ms. Cross winced. “Captain Bernard is going to be so pissed.”

  “I’ll get him another boat,” I said.

  I
couldn’t allow her to encounter trouble on our behalf.

  “If you can get to the old streetcar at the end of the dock, it will take you out of The Dens,” Madame Duvoir said. “It’s not technically part of the boss’s holdings, so it’s a safe space. Get there, and you’re fine.”

  She hurried down a narrow spiral staircase constructed of wrought iron. I followed, my footsteps rattling against the metal. When we reached the ground floor, she gestured to a small door. “That’s your out,” she said. “Follow the row of buildings all the way down to the city, and you’ll see the streetcar. Good luck.”

  I reached it first, turning back to Ms. Cross and Carrow. “I’ll take out the first wave of men. You run for the streetcar.”

  Both women gave me skeptical looks, as if they weren’t going to run while I watched their backs.

  “Just be careful,” I said.

  “Of course,” replied

  Ms. Cross as she drew a wickedly curved blade from a sheath on her hip, a bloodthirsty grin on her face. The formerly reserved researcher looked ready to skin a demon alive.

  “Badass.” Carrow grinned.

  “It’s a khanjar blade from Oman. A gift from an old friend.” Ms. Cross flipped the blade and caught it. “Now, let’s get a move on.”

  Carrow reached in her bag and withdrew a potion bomb. “Courtesy of Eve.”

  I nodded, then turned to the door.

  Madame Duvoir stepped up beside me. “Let me give you a head start.”

  I nodded.

  She reached into the pocket of her flowing dress and withdrew a glass orb similar to Carrow’s. Gray smoke swirled within the little globe. She pushed open the door and, without leaving the building, chucked the potion bomb outside.

  A massive poof of dark smoke exploded upward, and men shouted from within the blinding cloud.

  “Thanks.” I darted out, using my superior senses to locate my targets.

  I could hear them, smell them, sense them through the fog. I charged right, colliding with a Marsh Man. He reeked of seaweed. Strength surged through me, and I grabbed him by the collar and hurled him toward the building. He slammed into the brick and collapsed.

  Behind me, Ms. Cross sprinted down the street, headed straight for a man who stood between us and the streetcar. As she neared him, she ducked low, swiping at his legs with her blade. He reached for her, but she was faster, her blade whirling with wicked grace. The knife sliced through his thighs. He screamed and toppled backward.

  I heard a noise from my right and spun around. A man surged out of the darkness, his eyes gleaming red. He held up a hand that flickered with flame.

  “I was hoping for a challenge,” I said as he hurled the fire at me.

  I took the hit, absorbing the magic as I always did with flame. He frowned and stumbled back, and I charged. My unnatural speed was impossible to avoid. There was no time to play with my prey, so I simply knocked him to the ground.

  To my left, two goons tried to hit Carrow with blasts of water. She dodged the missiles and took them out with her potion bombs. In the distance, Ms. Cross raced toward another Marsh Man.

  There were more than I could count, but they were easy to find with my heightened vampire senses. The goons fought back with jets of water, swift and icy.

  An icicle hit me on the side of the arm, leaving a deep gash. Dark blood seeped from the wound. But as the fog faded, I looked around to find that the three of us were alone.

  “I think we’re clear,” Carrow said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Look.” Ms. Cross pointed farther down the dock.

  A horde of Marsh Men raced toward us—twenty, at least.

  My blood was up. Though I welcomed a second fight, I had to think of Carrow.

  I couldn't risk it.

  “Run,” I said.

  “Not without you.” Carrow glared at me.

  “Fine.” I sprinted away from the Marsh Men, toward the streetcar.

  They roared and ran faster, and I placed myself between Carrow and our pursuers. The three of us raced toward the streetcar. Idling at the end of the row of warehouses, it beckoned.

  The horde pounded after us, their footsteps loud against the wood. I looked back as several of them raised their hands. Two of them shot jets of water at us, liquid projectiles that could pierce us through.

  “Dodge,” I shouted.

  We dove out of the way as the wave crashed to the ground behind us, then lunged up and sprinted faster. Four more Marsh Men fired water at us, but we dodged their blasts every time.

  As we neared the streetcar, I looked back again. A small jet of water was shooting toward Carrow. I lunged between her and the projectile.

  It slammed into my shoulder. Agony flared, and I grunted and stumbled, blood welling from the wound. I snatched a dagger from the ether and hurled it at the Marsh Man who’d attacked me.

  The blade spun through the air and pierced him in the throat. The others roared with rage, but I heard only Carrow’s voice:

  “Grey! Come on!”

  I spun and raced after them. They’d jumped onto the streetcar, and I followed, climbing on board. I turned, ready to resume the attack, but the Marsh Men had stopped and glared at us with green eyes.

  “They can’t get us while we’re in here.” Ms. Cross turned to the driver, an older woman with a wild halo of white hair. “Will this take us to the Circuit?”

  “That’s right, dearie. This is the express. Only four stops.”

  Ms. Cross nodded and slumped onto the padded seat.

  The streetcar rumbled to life. Panting, I looked back at our enemies. They watched with impotent rage as the cables carried us away.

  “Grey, your shoulder.” Worry echoed in Carrow’s voice as she moved to stand before me.

  “It’s fine.” But it wasn’t, not really. My shoulder hurt, and it should have been healed by then. Had the jet of water been laced with lethal magic? I wondered. It hadn’t glowed oddly.

  Ms. Cross moved to join us. “That’s an ugly wound.”

  “Do they imbue their projectiles with anything?” I asked.

  “No, it’s just super-fast water.”

  Carrow tugged off her jacket and flipped it inside out. “I’m going to put pressure on it.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ve had worse.”

  “I don’t care.” Gently, she pressed her jacket to the hole in my shoulder.

  I sucked in air through my teeth but said nothing.

  “We’ll be out of The Dens soon,” Ms. Cross said. “Then you can transport out of here. Or the streetcar can take you to a portal.”

  “How far is the portal?”

  “The one in the Circuit is only a few minutes away,” the driver said.

  “We’ll go there, thanks.” Better to save the transport charm.

  “Be there in five.” The driver nodded. “Fast service here.”

  10

  Carrow

  As the streetcar careened through the city, I stared at Grey, worry seeming to drown me. He looked paler than usual. Weaker.

  And yet, the wound wasn’t that big. I’d seen him take far worse hits.

  There was something different about this wound. He seemed almost…human now. Like he could die.

  What if I lost him?

  Fear pierced me, cold and terrible. I’d tried not to fall for him. I’d tried.

  But I’d failed.

  I swallowed hard. “You really don’t think there was magic in that hit?” I asked Neve.

  “I don’t think so. They tend not to use that type of spell.”

  I nodded, looking back at Grey.

  “Stop worrying,” he said. “It’s fine.”

  “We’re here,” the driver called as the streetcar pulled to a stop.

  Thank God. I gazed at the large open courtyard and spinning water wheel, grateful to see our exit. Neve helped me get Grey to the portal. He was able to walk on his own, but he was unusually weak.

  The ether sucked us in and spi
t us out at the Haunted Hound. We stood in the dark corridor to catch our breath.

  Quinn appeared at the entrance. Concern was etched across his strong features. “Carrow? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I trusted Quinn, but the Devil didn’t. He was inexplicably feeling low, and I didn’t want to draw attention to that fact.

  All the same, the vampire’s shoulders straightened. “We’re fine.”

  There wasn’t the slightest hint in his voice that he was hurt.

  “All right. Let me know if you need anything.” Quinn melted into the shadows of the bar, leaving me alone.

  I turned to Grey, worry twisting inside me. “You really aren’t okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Fine is a weak word.”

  “I’m not healing as well as I normally might, but we’ll get to the bottom of it.” His expression was bland and calm, reassuring.

  I didn’t buy it for a minute.

  I tilted my head to reveal my neck. “Drink my blood. It worked last time.”

  “No.” His voice cracked like a whip. “Absolutely not.”

  “Just a little. It will help. It always does.”

  “You know what might happen if I drink your blood.”

  A vision of my dream flickered in front of my mind. Cursed Mates.

  “We’ll do it at your place. You have the self-control, I know it. And it’ll heal you.”

  “Not even there. I want it too badly, and once I start…”

  He wouldn’t be able to stop.

  He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. I could read the fear in him clearly.

  “It will never happen,” he said. “Thank you, but forget it.”

  “Fine, then we’re getting a healer.” I prayed it would help.

  “Excellent plan.”

  I nodded and took his arm. “Let’s go.”

  We switched to the other abandoned hallway and took the portal back to Guild City, staggering through the streets to his place. It was after midnight, and the pavement bustled with people going from bar to bar, shouting and laughing. Shops glittered with life and magic, but I had no interest in them.

  By the time we reached the Devil’s tower, even I was feeling drained. The two security guards at the front hopped to attention, their movements gracefully powerful in the way of all shifters. They swung open the doors, and we entered, finding Miranda at her station.