Devilish Game (Shadow Guild: The Rebel Book 4)

by Linsey Hall

  Well, bloody hell. I believed it was possible. Rituals like this had been performed throughout the breadth of history. If it worked and she returned to earth, no doubt she’d do so as the bloodthirsty half of an otherwise balanced god.

  “Why don’t you and your friends commit the murders?” I asked. “Surely you’re not too squeamish.”

  “Hardly. We just don’t want to die, of course. We need to be here to witness the rise of Anat. To receive our just reward.”

  “What do you mean, die?” Carrow said. “They’re doing the killing, not the dying.”

  He resisted answering her, so I repeated the questioning.

  “The murders must end in suicide,” the man said. “The greater violence will provide the energy that Anat requires to rise again to the earth.”

  “And you aren’t willing to sacrifice your miserable life for your goddess,” I said.

  “The Goddess Anat needs us.” His eyes gleamed with passion.

  “She doesn’t need you. You’re a plague.” I shook my head, disgusted. “Have any of these murders been committed yet?” I could nearly feel Carrow’s desire to have that question answered. Had we lost any of the victims?

  “No. They must all be done at the same time. The board is not yet set, but once we have the final piece in place, everything will happen at once.”

  “It’s not a game,” I snapped. Carefully, I drew in a breath. My normal icy shell was harder to maintain while staring into the eyes of this lunatic, and it was made harder by my mind’s desperate attempt to remember the parts of Carrow that I’d forgotten. “How many more people will you kidnap?”

  “One more.” He grinned widely, clearly pleased with himself.

  “When?” I demanded.

  He tried to fight, pressing his lips together, but I gripped his chin tightly, disliking the touch even though I wore my gloves. “When?”

  “Tomorrow, we will make the request of Anton. He should find a suitable target that night and, once we have them, we will begin.”

  So we had a little bit of time. I looked at Carrow, my eyebrows raised. Anything else?

  “We need you to get us beyond the barrier, into the temple,” she said.

  I repeated her command, and the little bastard laughed. “I can’t. There are only two ways to get in. One of the transport charms given to the kidnappers, or via a lever that temporarily lowers the boundary. But that lever is located inside the temple.”

  “So you’re useless to us,” I said.

  “I would never let you use me against my brethren.”

  If I were the sort of man to roll my eyes the way the youth did, I would have. Instead, I released his chin and brushed off my hands, rising and turning to face Carrow. Looking directly at her was like looking at the sun during the most beautiful sunrise. Painful, but I wanted to keep doing it.

  “Do you have what you need?” I asked.

  “For now. We just need to make a plan.”

  “You’ll never beat us,” the chained man said.

  Carrow turned to him, spitting words. “We will, you little cretin.”

  She was a glorious, vengeful goddess, and something in my chest swelled. I pressed a hand to it, confused. In pain. I couldn’t remember why I liked her so much, but I could feel it. I tightened my jaw and removed my hand, looking at the guards behind me. “Take him to a cell.”

  The two nodded and approached the cult member, dragging him off. He hissed curses as he was hauled from the room, his robe trailing the ground behind him.

  Carrow rubbed her hand over her face. “God, this is a lot.”

  Instinct surged inside me to get her a chair, food, a drink. Discomfort followed in its wake. Why the hell did I care about that?

  Yes, she was supposed to be my mate, but we’d broken that bond. I’d forgotten her—or at least, the things that might make me care for her. We should be nothing but acquaintances.

  And yet . . .

  The instinct remained.

  I resisted.

  “In a way, this parallels the ancient documents I saw on a desk inside the palace at Ugarit,” Carrow said. “The ghostly remains of the palace appeared as soon as we entered and, thousands of years ago, the leaders were dealing with a similar cult who was attempting to pollute the will of Anat.”

  “Do you think they are the same people?” Eve asked.

  Carrow shrugged. “He looked modern to me.”

  I nodded. “He was not immortal. I would have felt it. I think that the desire to misinterpret the will of a god to serve your own ends is something that never goes out of fashion.”

  “So we have a modern bunch of psychopaths holed up in a temple about to cause chaos,” she said.

  “That’s what it sounds like.” Mac began to pace the room, her short blonde hair growing ever messier as she dragged her hand through it. “We need to get into that temple.”

  “The only way to do it is with one of those transport charms,” Eve said. “Which only Anton’s kidnapper will have.”

  “The security on Anton’s casino has doubled, according to my sources,” I said. “But I have found his contact in Guild City.”

  “The evil talent scout who finds the supernatural with the magic that the cult wants?”

  “The very same. It’s a weaselly mage who lives in Hellebore Alley. I put a charm in his flat that will alert us if Anton contacts him.”

  Carrow nodded, ideas flickering through her eyes. “We can’t get the transport charm from Anton since his place is too heavily guarded. But we can get it from the kidnapper.”

  “But how do we know where the kidnapper will be?” Eve asked.

  Carrow smiled. “We force the talent scout to tell the kidnapper that I’m the target.”

  Icy fear pierced my chest. “You’re suggesting that you become bait.”

  She nodded. “Yes. They don’t know my name. Those miserable weasels have no idea that I was the one to try to break into their temple. They saw me, but it will be Anton’s intermediary who tries to kidnap me.”

  Something roared inside me. No. She couldn’t take the risk. Pain shot through my head. I rubbed the bridge of my nose, frowning hard. I shouldn’t care if she took the risk. She was nothing to me now . . . the spells had seen to it.

  And yet . . .

  I did care. Incredibly much.

  I drew in an unsteady breath, forcing it to move smoothly through my lungs. I don’t like it.

  But I bit back the words. It wasn’t my place to like it or not like it. I needed to move forward as if she were no different than anyone else. But it was maddening to still feel the dregs of the emotion while having no memory of the events that had created those feelings.

  “I’m not suggesting that the kidnapper actually kidnap me,” she said. “I’d be totally outnumbered and definitely screwed if he—or she—actually got me. But I’ll be the bait and, once he arrives, you guys sweep in and grab him. We’ll steal the charm, and then we’ll all go to the temple together. Strength in numbers.”

  “It’s the only way,” Mac said. “You saw how many of them there were. If you end up actually kidnapped, it’s over for you.”

  She nodded, her face slightly pale. “You’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  I despised this idea.

  But it didn’t matter.

  Carrow looked at me. “You’ve found Anton’s talent scout. Tomorrow, when Anton tells him what magic they are looking for, can you compel the scout to tell Anton that I have it?”

  It felt like pulling teeth, but I forced a nod. It was the only reasonable thing to do. And I’d be there to protect her. “Yes.”

  “Good.” Carrow nodded. “We’ll figure out the perfect spot for me to hang out tomorrow night so that the kidnapper feels confident approaching, but you guys can be hidden and waiting.”

  “Then we’ll nab the transport charm and break into the temple and save our friends.” Eve grinned. “I like this plan.”

  I still despised it.

&nbs
p; “Well, I’d say that’s that.” Mac brushed off her hands. “We have a plan, and now I need a bath.”

  “Let’s head home,” Eve said. “Thank you, Devil.”

  I nodded stiffly, trying to keep my gaze off Carrow.

  Her friends left, but she lingered. Her gaze burned into me, and it was no longer possible to not look at her. I turned my attention to her face, confusion ricocheting inside me.

  I shouldn’t want her. I knew all the reasons why, and everything I’d done to prevent it.

  And yet I still did. . .

  “The other night . . .” Her words trailed off.

  Desire flashed through me, the ghost of a memory that I couldn't catch. It left behind the strongest sense of . . . loss.

  “The other night,” I repeated her words. Should I tell her that I’d wiped my memory? “What about it?”

  “What about it?” she asked.

  I nodded. “What specifically concerns you?”

  I hoped that the vague question would lead her into explaining to me what had happened the other night. My heart raced at the thought of what it might have been, like it remembered something I did not. An emotional phantom limb.

  “I feel like that should be obvious,” she said.

  “I don’t recall.” My words made her eyes flash with hurt and anger. I’d definitely said the wrong thing.

  “There’s no way you don’t recall.” She frowned at me. “What’s going on, Grey?”

  “You call me Grey?” The words escaped before I could consider taking them back.

  “What the hell happened to you?” she demanded. “You’re the ice man again, and there are clearly gaps in your memory.”

  I nodded stiffly. No point in pretending I hadn’t done what I’d done. “I asked Cyrenthia to erase parts of my memory.”

  “You what?”

  “I retained the memory that we are—were—Cursed Mates. And, also, all memories of our work together on things like this. But it was too dangerous to keep feeling the way that I did about you, so I asked her to erase the good between us. The softer parts. They’re gone.”

  Hurt flickered in her eyes, and she stepped back. “That was . . .” She swallowed hard. “That was smart. Maybe I could do the same.”

  No.

  If she didn’t remember, then it would be like it had never happened. Somehow, that felt unbearable.

  “It was the safest way,” I said, my words weak to my own ears. “I—”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself.” She nodded, her eyes bright. “It was smart. Good thinking.”

  “Carrow—”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She waved and spun, striding from the room.

  I reached out for her, my heart twisting in my chest in the strangest and most unfamiliar way. Seeing my hand stretched out in front of me made me feel lovesick and stupid. I clenched my fist and drew it back.

  What the hell had I done?

  15

  Carrow

  I hurried through the dark hallways of Grey’s tower, my eyes prickling with tears that I refused to let fall.

  Was this all a game to him?

  Something he could just toss aside at any time? Erase his memories and chuck it in the bin like it had never existed?

  No—it was the opposite. Far from a game, which was why he’d given up the memories. It had been necessary.

  Still, I drew in an unsteady breath, pain slicing through me. I knew it was the smart thing for him to have done, but it still hurt, of course.

  That dream we’d had…

  He doesn’t remember the dream.

  He doesn’t remember any of it.

  Holy hell, it was all gone for him. Yet I still held onto it, the only one who remembered what had happened. The best night of my life, and I was the only one to remember.

  But it was for the best. We were determined to stay away from each other, and we’d done a good job.

  Until our magic had dragged us together, our subconsciouses unwilling to stay apart. Fate was so strong—so determined—that we had to fight this with everything we had. Which included erasing our memories.

  I was going to do the same.

  As soon as this was all over, I was going to Cyrenthia and demand that she erase my memories, too. I couldn’t hold onto this alone. I didn’t want to.

  And yet . . . I did.

  Finally, I reached the entry foyer. Miranda stood at her desk, her face impassive. Her dark hair was pulled up in a neat knot on top of her head, and her blouse and pencil skirt were perfectly pressed, as usual.

  I turned to her. “Does he seem different to you?”

  “I’m uncertain what you’re referring to?” Her voice was so blandly polite and her expression so passive that I knew something was up.

  Miranda and I had not grown close exactly, but earlier that week we’d bonded over our worry for Grey. She’d even violated his rules to tell me when he returned from wherever he’d gone. And yet, now . . .

  She was as cold as when I’d first met her.

  I just nodded. “All right.”

  She gave me a bland doll’s smile, and I turned to leave. The air was fresh and cool as I stepped out into the moonlight. It was dreadfully late at night, and the city was dead silent. Eve and Mac waited for me in the courtyard.

  “Well?” Mac raised her eyebrows. “What happened?”

  “He forgot me.” The words made my chest ache.

  “Forgot?” Confusion echoed in Eve’s voice.

  “A spell of Cyrenthia’s.”

  Mac and Eve’s jaws both dropped.

  “That’s dangerous,” Mac said. “The mind doesn’t like having holes like that.”

  “He must have insisted.”

  At my side, Cordelia appeared. She looked up at me, her little masked face pinched in concern.

  I saw it. She wrung her tiny hands. He did insist. Want me to go have a wee in his shoes?

  It was tempting, that was for sure. But I just shook my head. “Thanks, pal, but no. It really was the smart thing to do, and I’m being silly.”

  “We should tell the witches what’s up,” Mac said. “They’ll want to know, and they would provide good backup.”

  I nodded. “Smart. Let’s go do that.”

  An hour later, after explaining our plan to a group of bloodthirsty witches and coming up with the perfect bait plan, I arrived home as the sun was rising. Mac was in her apartment down below, and Eve had gone to her place just down the street.

  I let Cordelia and myself into the little flat just as my stomach grumbled.

  Cordelia made a noise of agreement at my side. You and me both, sister.

  “The kebab place is closed, but there’s plenty of snacks in the kitchen.”

  I’m not sure I’d say plenty.

  “You been going a bit wild, lately?”

  Depends on how you define wild.

  A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth—the first since Grey had told me he’d forgotten me. I should probably start calling him the Devil again. The idea made sadness shoot through me, so I shoved it aside and got to work in the kitchen, unearthing whatever snacks Cordelia hadn’t murdered in the last week.

  We both gorged ourselves on junk food—something I would definitely regret later—then fell into bed, she in her favorite chair, and me on the mattress.

  I picked up my phone and did the thing I’d been both dreading and anticipating. I sent Grey a text outlining the bait plan, so that he’d know what to tell Christoph Venderklein when Anton finally contacted him.

  The message registered that it had sent, and I waited, breath held. It wasn’t like his response was actually going to be interesting or make me feel any better, but I couldn’t help my desire to hear back from him. For that small bit of contact. For any contact.

  His message arrived a few minutes later.

  Fine.

  I stared at it. Fine. Just . . . fine.

  My disappointment was stupid, of course. And I hated myself for it. F
or the oddly mooning idiot I’d become. I scowled and shoved the phone away, burying it beneath a pillow.

  Grey was doing the right thing by cutting ties and forgetting, and I needed to do the same.

  Sleep took a long time coming, but by the time it arrived, so did a shadow at the edge of my consciousness.

  Grey.

  Like before, I could feel him in my dream, right at the periphery. That time, I’d thought it truly was a dream. No consequences.

  This time, though?

  He was really here. Something about my crazy magic drew him to me, and I wondered if he came willingly, or if I was abducting him.

  In bed, I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t need to open them to know he stood at the edge of my room. I could feel it like I could feel my own legs.

  Would he come to me?

  Would I let him?

  But he didn’t remember me.

  Finally, the tension became too much. I peeked my eyes open the tiniest bit, still cocooned in the partial dream state.

  A shadow hovered by the door, tall and broad. I caught the briefest glimpse of cold silver eyes before the shadow retreated, and I was alone.

  Grey

  The next day, I sat at my desk, staring at an accounts’ book but not seeing the figures. My primary goal was to wait for the signal that Anton’s man was contacting Christoph Venderklein. Once that happened, I could force Venderklein to give Carrow’s name to the kidnapper.

  The mere idea of it made me ill, even though I had hardly any memories of her at all. Their loss felt like a severed limb, confusing and terrible.

  When I’d chosen this, I knew it was the right thing to do.

  But it was terrible.

  And this plan . . .

  It was so dangerous. But it was smart. Carrow was strong and could take care of herself. She wanted to do this, which meant that I needed to trust her. It wasn’t my place to stop her, anyway. And there was no way the kidnapper would risk trying to take me, so I couldn’t even trade places.

  It will be fine.

  The plan was a good one. She’d be surrounded by dozens of people who had her back. The entire Witches’ Guild, in fact.