by Linsey Hall
This was no game.
I couldn’t be trusted around her.
I nodded. “All right. Do it.”
Cyrenthia rose. “This is the right choice.”
“It’s the only choice.”
“That, too.” She approached. “Do you have anything of hers?”
“Like a possession? No. Just memories.”
“That will have to do.” She turned and strode to a shelf, taking a small golden rock from it. Quickly, she returned to me and handed me the stone. “Grip this tight in your hand and think of her. Put a memory directly into it.”
She handed it to me, and the stone was cold in my hand—icily so.
Which memory?
Would it be the memory I would give up? No, because I had to give up so many more.
Before I could think too long on it, an image of her flashed into my mind. Her smile as she laughed. The image was so blazing bright that I couldn’t get it out of my head.
In my hand, the stone warmed, becoming so hot that it was difficult to hold. I opened my fist at looked down at it, taking in the glowing golden orb.
“Yes, that will do.” Cyrenthia plucked the stone from my hand.
I wanted to grab it back, but I tightened my fist, resisting.
She hurried to the large table in the center of the room and began to work, mixing ingredients and conjuring a tiny fire right on the surface of the table. The little cauldron hovered right over the flames as she stirred, pink smoke wafting from it.
“I’m going to need a drop of your blood,” she said.
I approached and pricked my thumb on my fang, savoring the bite of pain that centered my thoughts. I hovered my hand over the cauldron, letting the blood drip. The surface of the potion was a deep red that bubbled when I added my blood. She added hers second, then dropped the small rock into the liquid. Light burst, and a noise cracked loud enough to reverberate against my ear drums.
On the far side of the room, I caught sight of Cordelia. The little raccoon sat in the shadows, watching me with judging eyes. Almost as if she knew what I was doing.
I frowned at her.
It was the only way.
And I didn’t want to be doing it. I had no choice. Not if I wanted Carrow to survive.
Cyrenthia turned to me and pressed a goblet into my hands. Across the room, Cordelia disappeared.
I stared down at the liquid in the cup, a tightness in my chest that was distinctly unfamiliar.
“Drink,” she said.
Like an automaton, I raised the cup to my lips and drank. It burned going down, leaving a trail of dread in its wake. Desperately, I tried to remember things as the potion sought to steal them.
“Don’t fight it,” Cyrenthia said.
“I’m not.
“You are.”
“I can’t help it.”
She frowned. I drew in a steady breath and forced myself to let the potion take effect. My mind began to fog, memories slipping away like smoke on a breeze.
In their place, emptiness filled me. Sadness, as well—a strange mourning that I’d never felt before.
Carrow.
I could still remember why I was here, but as I thought her name, an emptiness filled me. My chest ached. I struggled not to think of her, not to go hunting for the memories that were gone.
“I’m not sure it worked very well.” Cyrenthia frowned deeply, dissatisfaction in her eyes.
“What?” I searched my mind, looking for the positive memories that I knew had once been there. “My memories are gone.”
“Yes, but the bond between you is too powerful.”
“You broke the mate bond with the other potion.”
“I did. And that is still broken. But you’ve formed a bond without fate’s magic, and it is still so strong.” Confusion flickered in her eyes. “You really do love her, don’t you?”
“No. I told you, I cannot love.”
She laughed. “I was skeptical before. You’re the Devil of Darkvale. Of course you couldn’t love. But you do.”
“I do not.” Confusion flickered within me.
“You can lie to yourself all you like, but it’s true.”
“How can I love her if I don’t remember her? It’s absurd.”
She clucked her tongue. “The heart knows.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Well, whatever it is, I suggest that you stay away from her. I don’t know that this spell is going to hold very well if you spend much time together. The thing between you two . . . it’s just too powerful.”
Frustration surged within me, so strong that I wanted to tear something apart. I’d just given up the best memories of my life—though I couldn’t remember them, I could feel their loss. And it wouldn’t even save Carrow?
I said a terse goodbye and left, trying to ignore the strange, aching emptiness in my chest that indicated something enormous was out there, waiting for me.
The day was cool and bright as I stepped out of Cyrenthia’s shop. Despite the sun overhead, Hellebore Alley was dark and dreary, as if a shadowy mist hung right at the level of the roofs, blocking the sun.
It suited my mood.
Now that I’d taken care of the issue with Carrow, I had work to do.
Christoph Venderklein lived on this street, according to Anton. The talent scout for evil, as Carrow had dubbed him.
I rubbed my head, the slightest pain flaring at the thought of her. That memory had remained, but there were so many missing.
For the best.
I reached into my pocket and withdrew the paper Miranda had slipped me on my way out the door. She’d found Christoph’s address last night, and now I’d find him.
Though I was tempted to abduct him myself and question him, I doubted I’d get any more information. And it was vital that I did not interrupt any future chain of events. We’d gotten what information we could out of Anton, but we needed much more. Letting things unfold and observing them was the only way to get what we needed.
Quickly, I strode down the quiet street. A few supernaturals were out and about—they’d probably also been out when I’d first arrived, though I’d been in no state to notice them—and they darted out of my way as I passed.
About midway up Hellebore Alley, an even smaller street turned right. Nightshade Lane was damper and darker, smelling foully of wet rodent and body odor. I breathed shallowly as I passed the boarded-up shop windows and checked the walls of the buildings for numbers.
I found Christoph’s flat easily. It appeared to be a tiny place right above a long-shuttered butcher shop. A faint golden light glowed from the two small windows, but the angle wasn’t quite good enough to see by. I turned and looked up at the building behind me. It was situated right across the street from Christoph’s, but the windows were entirely boarded up.
Since I couldn’t set up a spy outside of Christoph’s flat, I’d have to go with Plan B. Fortunately, I’d come prepared.
I strode across the street and found the street-level entrance to Christoph’s flat. It was a rickety old wooden door with a shoddy lock that no one had bothered locking. The door swung open with a creek, and I climbed the narrow, dark stairs to his flat above.
A quick test of his doorknob showed that Christoph did indeed lock his door, but no matter.
I knocked, waiting patiently as I heard footsteps within.
“Who is it?” A creaky voice inquired.
“Open the door.” I imbued my voice with my power, and soon after, I heard the doorknob twist.
The door opened silently to reveal a middle-aged man with prematurely stooped shoulders and a mean glint to his eyes. The mage wore clothes far finer than his flat, and I could easily guess how he paid for them.
“Who are you?” Christoph demanded.
“None of your concern.” I made sure to put as much power as I could behind my voice. “You will immediately forget that I am here.”
His eyes turned foggy, and I smiled with grim satisfaction.
> “Step back from the door,” I said.
He did as I commanded, and I walked into the dim little flat. The ceiling was low and the floor sloped, in the way of many of the ancient Tudor buildings in Guild City.
I inspected the small space, looking for the best place to deploy my spying device. There was a dark corner opposite the door that would provide an excellent view of whoever came to the flat in the future.
I turned to Christoph, who watched me with blank eyes. “When Anton makes his requests of you, how does he do it? By note? In person?”
“He sends an intermediary to the door.” He nodded at his front door.
“Excellent.” It was just as I thought. Anton had always preferred to use minions instead of technology or putting things in writing. It was easier to say someone was lying and kill them than it was to disprove hard evidence.
I withdrew a small charm from my pocket and stuck it to the wall in the corner. It was so small and unobtrusive that it was nearly invisible, but it was the magical equivalent of a video camera.
Satisfied that it was in the right location, I pulled the corresponding mirror from my pocket and inspected it. The little charm provided the perfect view of the front door and Christoph, standing right in front of it.
Finished, I strode toward the door, stopping to meet Christoph’s gaze. “You will immediately forget that I was here, and you will not disturb the charm in the corner.”
He nodded, eyes blank, but the gesture full of conviction.
“Good.” I turned and left, tucking the mirror back into my pocket.
Christoph shut the door behind me, and I turned back to it, affixing another charm to the upper corner of the door. It clung to the wood using magic, and whenever the door was opened, a corresponding charm in my pocket would vibrate.
Now, all I had to do was wait for Anton’s goon to show up. Whoever they chose to kidnap next, we’d know about it and have the drop on them.
12
Carrow
An hour later, Mac, Eve, Seraphia, and I arrived on the sunny shore of Cyprus. Eve’s raven wheeled above, stark against the blue sky. Something about that bird…
I shook my head, then looked at the sea. Blue waves crashed against a rocky beach, and the sound of birds cut through the wind. Warm sun shone on my face, and I breathed in deeply. “I need a holiday.”
“I could definitely come back here.” Mac spun around, taking in the scenery. “It’d be perfect. A little swimming, a little sunbathing . . . ”
I joined her, enjoying the dramatic coastline of pale rocks and glittering blue water. Fluffy white clouds filled the sky, and the waves on the ocean glittered under the sun.
I adjusted the bag of potion bombs on my shoulder and looked at Eve. Her eyes were closed as she tilted her head toward the sky, a blissful smile on her face. Seraphia looked tense, however, her jaw clenched and her eyes shadowed.
I frowned at her. “Do you not come home often?”
“Never.” She searched our surroundings, her lips tight. “I haven’t been back since I was a baby.”
I wanted to ask why, but a shout sounded in the distance.
I turned to see an older man and woman approaching. They wore the simple, ancient clothing of fishermen that I’d seen in a Nat Geo documentary and, though they had white hair, their faces glowed with health and strength. The woman carried a basket in one hand and clutched the man’s arm with the other as they walked.
“My aunt and uncle,” Seraphia said, striding forward to greet them. She still looked tense, but the man and woman appeared to be delighted.
They spoke Greek—or at least, what I assumed was Greek. I’d never actually heard it spoken, despite my fondness for the Greek restaurant that had been located near my old London flat.
Eventually, they turned to us. Seraphia quickly made the introductions, and I learned that her aunt and uncle were named Aurelia and Stavros.
“Come!” Stavros gestured us forward with a wide sweep of his hands, his accent heavy. “My boat is in the next bay over. I brought it around just a few minutes ago.”
“Thank you.” I smiled gratefully, and the four of us followed them down the rocky path that led toward the sea.
As we neared, the waves sounded louder, and the scent of the sea grew stronger. I wanted nothing more than to dive into the crystal-clear water, and vowed I’d come back some day.
Finally, we reached the boat that was pulled up on the rocky beach. It was about thirty feet long and had a sloping deck and a tiny cabin near the back. The wood was painted blue and white, and the engine looked ancient.
Were we going to be able to get it off the shore? I’d never seen such a big boat pulled up on the shore like this.
Stavros led us down to the beach. Before I could climb on, Aurelia pressed the basket into my hands. “Food, for the journey.”
It was only a few hours, but I wasn’t going to turn down food. I smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”
I climbed onto the deck, joining Mac and Eve at the benches in the front. They were built alongside the hull, curving against the railing.
On the shore, Seraphia hugged her aunt goodbye. “Thank you, Aunt. I appreciate this.”
“Come home, Seraphia. The land misses you.” The woman clutched her arms.
The land?
Mac and I shared a confused glance. That was an odd thing to say.
Darkness flickered across Seraphia’s face, but she just nodded and turned, joining us on the deck.
Stavros took up his position at the back and waved his hand in a swirling gesture. Magic flared, and the boat drifted easily back from the beach, floating calmly on the small waves. The engine hadn’t even turned on yet.
I waved at Aurelia, who stared at us as Stavros turned the boat to face the horizon. The four of us sat back and watched Cyprus disappear over the horizon. With the breeze and the sunshine, it really did feel like a holiday.
“Let’s see what Aunt packed.” Seraphia leaned over the basket and opened it, withdrawing various cold salads and a selection of chilled meats and cheeses, along with crusty bread and bottles of sparkling water.
She passed it all around, and we helped ourselves, filling the little plates that Aurelia had included.
“I could get used to this,” Mac said.
I grinned and ate, trying to ignore my worry over the people that we were going to save. It would be better to ruminate over plans to save them instead of dwelling on my fear.
We traveled for two hours before the sun began to set. It gleamed brilliant orange on the horizon, the colors bleeding to pinks, reds, and yellows before the sun dipped below the sea.
The air immediately grew cooler, and I wrapped my arms around myself, looking toward the stars. They came out quickly, the night cloudless and bright. Fortunately, the moon was just a sliver.
“We’re nearly there,” Stavros said. “I can see the shore.”
“That’s my cue.” Eve stood and uncorked a little vial she wore around her neck. As she raised it to her lips, her wings flared behind her, glittering and bright.
She swigged back the potion, a shudder running through her. A moment later, she was gone. I felt her absence more than heard it and, a moment later, her voice whispered out of the comms charm I now wore around my neck.
“Headed to shore,” she said.
“We’ll await your directions,” I confirmed.
Stavros idled the boat off the coast as we waited for Eve to tell us the quietest way to approach. It was only five minutes before she spoke again. “I can sense activity in the city near the temple, also to the south, where there is a human settlement. There’s definitely something strange along that coast, as well. Best to avoid it. I think you should approach from the north. Go up the hill, and you’ll find the entrance to the city in front of you.”
“Is there anyone around there we should look out for?” I asked.
“Just some goats. No shepherd that I can see.”
“Thanks. See what
you can find out at the city,” I said.
“On it.” The communication severed.
I looked at Stavros. “Did you get that?”
He nodded, turning on the boat’s engine. The engine rumbled almost silently.
I leaned toward Seraphia. “Is he using magic to keep it so quiet?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
I stood at the bow with Mac and Seraphia as we approached the rocky shoreline. Tension tightened my skin as the breeze blew the wind back from my face. In the distance, I could barely make out the sight of the city on the hill. As Seraphia had said, it was mostly rubble. Broken walls and tumbled stones, all so ancient that it was hard to believe.
Stavros beached the boat, and we scrambled off. We had transport charms for when it was time to leave, so we waved our thanks, and Seraphia said a quick goodbye. Silently, he drifted out to sea, then turned around and headed back for Cyprus.
The path up the hill was rocky and dusty. I led the way, spotting several goats as I walked. They stared balefully at me as I passed, chewing on some vegetation that couldn’t possibly taste very good.
From up ahead, I sensed magic in the air. Something powerful and dark that sent a shiver over my spine.
“I do not like whatever is going on up there,” Mac whispered from behind me.
“No kidding.” I was grateful we hadn't transported right into the middle of it.
Clouds drifted over the moon as we neared the city walls, and gratitude welled. Eve hadn't reported that there were any guards, but it’d be good to have the cover of darkness.
We slowed our pace as we approached the wall, which soared twenty feet over our heads. It was an enormous structure, wider at the base than at the top, with an incline about forty-five degrees. Rubble decorated the top, the remnants of the upper part of the wall.
An arched entryway to the city beckoned us. Whatever wooden gate had once been there was gone, and the tunnel into the city stretched ahead of us.
“Reminds me of the entrance to Guild City,” I whispered.
“Only creepier,” Mac said.
I nodded, walking silently through the gate. The tunnel within was pitch black, but I didn’t dare use a light. Instead, I walked slowly, my hands outstretched as my eyes gradually adjusted.