by Linsey Hall
Had they stolen them?
They didn’t seem to possess the same long-range magic as the two we’d already taken out.
My hand closed around a third potion bomb and I dug it free, hurling it at the closest one. He was nearly upon me, so close that I could see the shadow of a face beneath his robe. The glass orb smashed against his chest and he went rigid, toppling over.
Behind them, Seraphia was nearly to the part of the temple they’d exited. I prayed she could find the weak spot in the barrier.
Next to me, Mac clashed with one of the robed figures. She punched him in the face so hard his head snapped back, then leveled a kick to his gut that sent him flying.
The fifth was nearly to me, now. No time for a potion bomb. I took a page out of Mac’s book and leveled a hard kick at his midsection, feeling a satisfying thud as his sword arm swiped out toward me.
I ducked the blade, taking a slice to the arm that burned like hell. He was off balance, though and tumbled backward.
At that moment, Seraphia reached the barrier and touched it, searching for the opening. The alarm shrieked again, and the barrier blasted her backward, sending her flying ten feet through the air before she slammed to the ground.
“Crap. There is no weak spot,” Mac cried. Blood dripped from her cheek, and she clutched at a wound in her side that I hadn’t seen her receive.
Damn it, we were in trouble.
The robed figures must be immune to the barrier, or perhaps you could only exit but not enter. Whatever the case was, we couldn’t get inside.
“I think more are coming,” Eve shouted. “I can cover you with one more bolt, but I’m running low on power.”
I looked at Mac, my mind whirring. Three of our attackers were unconscious from potion bombs, but the two wounded ones were rising unsteadily to their feet.
At the temple, a dozen more figures charged out into square. Seraphia still hadn't managed to sit up, either.
Eve’s lightning blasted the ground between us and the attackers, the bright light blinding and the noise nearly deafening. It bought us time, though, and I turned to Mac to shout, “We can’t take them all. But we can take one back for interrogation.”
Mac nodded and dug into her pocket for a transport charm. “You’ve got your charm?”
“Yeah.” We’d each need one if we were both going to carry an unconscious body back. Eve had her own, thank fates. “You get Seraphia. I’ll meet you at the Hound.”
“Be careful.” She darted toward our friend, who was still unconscious. Fear pierced me. Please be okay.
I sprinted toward the closest unconscious body. I didn’t need to be grappling with one of the conscious ones, even if they were injured.
The robed figures sprinted down the temple stairs, powering up their magic. It glowed around their hands as I neared the body I’d chosen. I could feel their power in the air, the dark magic that reeked of death and decay. Several of them raised their hands, magic sparking around their palms.
One of them hurled a shrieking green banshee blast right at Mac as she grabbed Seraphia and hauled her upright. It was nearly to them when she slammed her transport charm to the ground and dragged Seraphia into the silvery gray cloud.
They’re safe.
Two others aimed at me, magic glowing around their fists.
I was only ten feet from the body. I hurled my transport charm to the ground right next to the still form. Magic flew through the air toward me, two of the smoky galloping stallions. Their hoofbeats reverberated in my chest as I lunged for the body and grabbed an arm, hurling myself into the silvery gray cloud of the transport charm.
One of the beasts followed me in, its magic seeming to pollute the ether that spun me through space. Panic flared as pain enveloped me, threatening to tear me away from the person that I’d grabbed. It felt like I’d been tossed into a blender with a magical stallion from hell. Its hooves slammed into my chest, driving the breath from my lungs.
I clung tight to the arm of my prey, finally tumbling to the ground in the middle of the Haunted Hound.
Panting, I stared at the ceiling. I could feel the arm of the person in my grip, but I had no idea if I’d brought the rest of the body with me.
“Is there a hell stallion in here?” I croaked.
“No missy, but you look like hell.” An ancient, wrinkled face leaned over me, blue eyes peering hard. “Your boyfriend is wearing a weird outfit, and I’m saying that as a member of the Mystical Mentoria.”
I blinked. I had no idea what the Mystical Mentoria was, but the woman did appear to be dressed like a lunatic, in seven different styles of polka dots and a cloak stitched with a million sequins.
What the hell?
Had I screwed up the transport charm?
“Step back, Betty.” Quinn’s calm voice pierced my panic, and I heaved out a relieved breath.
Betty moved back far enough that I could sit, and I dragged myself upright. In a split second, I absorbed the scene.
I’d gotten my guy—all in one piece.
There was no smoky hell stallion here, thank fates.
Eve appeared, her wings still out and her hair windblown.
And Mac and Seraphia lay on the ground near the fireplace, gasping.
It was about as good as could be expected.
“Who’s this bloke?” Quinn asked.
“One of the bastards responsible for kidnapping our friends. He’ll come to, soon.” I stumbled upright, determined to get to Seraphia, who was still unconscious.
“I’ll tie him up then.” Quinn bent down and grabbed the body, swinging it up over his shoulder.
I raced to Mac, who was leaning over a prone Seraphia. Eve landed on her knees next to us. “Is she all right?”
Mac pressed her fingertips to Seraphia’s neck. “She’s got a pulse.”
Eve plunged her hand into one of the many pockets of her dress, pulling out a tiny vial. “Healing serum.”
She tilted the vial over Seraphia’s pale lips and poured the liquid into her mouth.
Nothing happened.
“It always works.” Eve scowled.
“What’s happening to my plants?” Quinn shouted. “They’re all shaking.”
I looked up, spotting a few of the potted ferns that decorated the place shaking like they were inside their own personal earthquakes. They tumbled off the shelves and tables and rolled toward Seraphia, the plants clinging to her.
Slowly, the color returned to her cheeks, and she opened her eyes. The plants stopped shuddering and lay still.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Okay, that was weird.
I shot Mac and Eve a glance. They just shrugged. This power of Seraphia’s was new as far as I could tell. Or more likely, it was meant to be a secret.
She looked down at the ferns that were nestled around her, her face going pale again.
Yep. A secret.
“Are you okay?” I asked, ignoring the plants.
Mac and Eve did the same.
“Yeah.” She sat up, shoving the plants aside and ignoring them. “There’s no way past that barrier.”
“We saw,” Mac said.
“Did we leave everyone there?” Seraphia asked, worry creasing her brow.
“Not everyone.” I stood, turning toward the man that Quinn had bound to the chair near the fire. The patrons of the Haunted Hound didn’t pay the scene any mind. Weird stuff happened there all the time. “We got one of theirs to question.”
“Good.” She looked at us. “Do you think Coraline, Beth, and the rest are okay?”
“I don’t think they’re dead yet,” I said. “They were kidnapped by fanatics of some kind. People with a goal. And they know they’re protected inside their temple. I think they’ll see their goal out before they kill anyone.”
“We need to question him,” Mac said.
“First, you need healing drafts.” Eve gestured to Mac and me. “Look at the two of you. You look like hell.”
; Just the reminder made pain flare in my wounds, and Mac winced.
“Here.” Eve withdrew two more tiny vials and handed them over.
Mac and I took them, swigging them back quickly. Warmth flowed through me, followed by a wonderful lack of pain.
“Thank you.” I smiled gratefully at her.
She nodded, concern still flickering in her eyes. The four of us stood, and we approached the man slumped in the chair. His head nodded on his neck, chin resting on his chest. He was mid-twenties, probably, with shaggy dark hair and a silver bar pierced through his ear. Tattoos decorated his neck, indecipherable swirls that probably meant something to him but nothing to me.
Quinn stood behind his chair, arms crossed over his neck. “You’ve got to ask him some questions?”
I nodded.
“I’ve got a truth serum,” Eve said.
“I’ll wake him up.” Quinn grabbed a half-empty cup of water from the table behind him. A red lipstick stain marred the rim. He dumped the water over the guy’s head.
The man sputtered and sat up, gasping. As soon as he saw us, he growled and lunged. “Intruders!”
The ropes pulled taut, but he was moving so fast, he upended the chair, tilting forward. Quinn grabbed the back of the chair and yanked it into place. “Chill out, mate.”
The man growled and spit, heaving against the bindings.
He was going nuts.
I slapped him across the face, briefly shocking him into silence. Quinn gripped his head and tilted it back. His mouth gaped like a fish’s, shock flashing in his eyes.
Quickly, Eve uncorked the vial of truth serum and dumped it into his mouth before he could process what was going on. He sputtered, but most of it appeared to go down his throat.
Quinn leaned close and spoke in a menacing tone against his ear. “Calm down, or I’ll gut you like a Ton Ton and climb in for warmth.”
I grimaced. “What the hell was that, Quinn?”
He shrugged and smiled. “Been watching a bit of Star Wars.”
“Well it’s effective,” Mac said. “That would get me to shut up.”
The prisoner hissed at us, his eyes flashing with rage. “Those potions don’t work on me.”
Eve frowned. “Who are you?”
“No one you need to know.”
“Tell me your name.” Her voice hardened.
“Told you, those potions don’t work on me.”
“Damn it.” She turned to us. “He’s right. It’s not working.”
“The goddess protects me,” he said. “She’ll always protect me.”
“Maybe.” I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. “But I bet she can’t protect you from the Devil himself.”
14
Carrow
Ten minutes later, I dragged our captive down the streets of Guild City. Mac and Eve helped me, each of us taking turns with the wagon we’d gotten from Quinn. Normally it was used to haul kegs. Now it was used to carry our captive. Seraphia had disappeared back to the library, and none of us spoke about the weird episode with the plants.
Behind us, the wagon rumbled over the cobblestones, the body of our captive unconscious inside. In London, you could never get away with something like this. In Guild City, it was a lot easier. We were still trying to avoid the police, but there were far fewer of them, and they didn’t really do patrols like human police did.
“Why did your potion bombs work on him but not the truth serum?” I asked Eve, who’d just taken her turn pulling the wagon full of crazy.
She shrugged. “I’ve heard you can develop an immunity to truth serum if you train. Or he might be protected, like he said.”
“It has to be a cult,” Mac said. “I mean, look at the robe. They all wore them. And he did sound crazy as a jaybird on Sunday.”
I had to agree. I hoped Grey could help us get to the bottom of it with his ability to compel people to speak. If he couldn’t, we were almost right back where we started, albeit now with some baggage.
We passed a restaurant with a patio, and the diners leaned out into the sidewalk to inspect the contents of our wagon.
“Just a little performance art,” I said.
“Uh-huh.” An older woman pursed her crimson lips and nodded, clearly not believing us. All the same, she didn’t try to stop us.
We kept going, finally reaching Grey’s tower. The shifter guards at the front nodded at me and opened the door, inspecting the unconscious man with bored stares. In the lobby, Miranda looked at us impassively. “What is that?”
“Something we need help with.” I nodded toward the back hall. “Is he in?”
“Just a moment.” She pressed her comms charm, never taking her gaze from the unconscious man. Mac and Eve stood by me, idly tapping their fingers against their arms. Miranda murmured into her charm for a moment, then met my gaze. “He’ll see you in his office.”
His office.
Of course. We were avoiding each other now, so of course he wouldn’t invite me into his home. Which was for the best, not only because I came bearing terrible gifts, but also for our future.
We wheeled the wagon back to his office, where a guard stood, leaning against the open door. I wheeled the wagon into the office. Grey sat at his desk and, as soon as I met his eyes, there was something different about him.
“What happened to you?” I demanded, forgetting my friends and our captive and even the edict that we should maintain our distance.
“Carrow.” He nodded, his voice strangely cold.
What the hell?
I looked at Mac and Eve to see if they sensed the change, but they were looking at me like I was crazy.
Shit. I needed to get my head in the game. I turned back to Grey, who was suddenly reminding me more and more of the Devil I’d first met. I shoved the thought aside and gestured to the unconscious man. “This is a member of the cult that is kidnapping Guild City’s people. He’s immune to truth serums, but we were hoping you could use your power to question him.”
Grey nodded. “I can try.” He gestured to one of the two guards who stood back by the wall. “Get him in a chair.”
The two men approached, retrieving the unconscious man, and binding him in a chair. I couldn't take my eyes off Grey as they worked, but he didn’t look at me.
“What is it that you would like to know?” he asked, slipping on a thin pair of leather gloves. Why the gloves?
“If the victims are still alive,” I said. My bet was that they were, but I needed confirmation so I could stop vibrating with worry. “And if Anat has risen.”
“What else?”
I listed off all our questions, and he went to stand in front of the unconscious man, whose chin once again rested on his chest. I’d feel a little bad for him if I didn’t know what he’d done. But kidnapping by a cult was the kind of trauma that didn't just go away, and he was partially responsible.
Eve stepped up to the chair. “I have the serum to wake him. Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Now is fine,” he said.
She poured a few drops of a potion on his shoulder, and the man jerked awake, his wild eyes traveling around the room.
Quick as a snake, Grey reached out and gripped the man’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. That was why he put on the gloves. No doubt he didn’t want to touch the miserable bastard. As he spoke, power radiated in his voice, making me sway toward him.
I straightened, pulling back.
“Tell me if the kidnapping victims are still alive.” His magic made the man’s gaze go foggy.
Thank God.
“They’re alive.” The red cloak’s voice was wooden and tense, as if he fought Grey’s power. “For now.”
“Will you kill them?”
“We won’t have to.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?” Grey asked, as if reading my mind.
“They’re meant to serve a greater purpose. They will be grateful when it is all through.”
Grateful?
> I highly doubted that.
“Has the goddess Anat risen?” Grey asked.
The man scowled and shook his head. “No. Not yet.”
Thank fates.
Grey
I stared at the miserable little worm in front of me, working hard to keep my attention off Carrow. Looking at her made my brain feel like it was trying to tear itself in two. I could remember some of our interactions, but the blank spaces in my memory were screaming to be filled. A pounding headache had set up in the spaces where the memories had once resided.
I forced my attention back to the young man who sat in the chair, his chin tilted up defiantly.
Moron.
His voice had turned less wooden though, more passionate. He liked talking about his purpose.
“What’s your purpose, exactly?” I asked.
“Our purpose. We are the Servants of Anat, and we seek to serve her will.”
“So, you’re a cult?”
“No, we are servants to the great war goddess herself.”
“She is a goddess of balance,” Carrow said.
The man scoffed. “Misinterpretation. Her desire is blood and war and destruction.”
The fire of bloodlust gleamed in his eyes, and distaste seethed through me. I could all but feel his lust on the air, a slimy film that was exceedingly vile. “No, that is your desire. The goddess’s true wishes don’t seem to factor into this.”
His face turned red, and rage filled his eyes.
“What are you doing with the kidnap victims?” I asked, squeezing his chin tight. “What role do they play in all of this?”
He tried to twist his head aside, but I gripped him harder and imbued my voice with all my power. “Tell me.”
He spit out the words, unable to help himself. “The ones we’ve taken all have a purpose. The goddess has many magical skills—each person taken has one of those skills, and they will play a role in the final ceremony.”
“What kind of ceremony?” That couldn’t be good.
“Ritual killings. For every murder they commit with their power, Anat will regain that magical gift. When all of them are done, she will be powerful enough to rise again.”