Druid Vices and a Vodka: The Guild Codex: Spellbound / Six

by Marie, Annette

  He waved at me to get moving again. “The cost to fae is even greater, since they have far more magic to lose. The Carapace is powerful, dangerous, and an artifact I would only use if I were about to die.”

  “And you’re making me carry it because …”

  “Because I can feel its magic and it sets my teeth on edge.”

  I grimaced and shoved it back in my pocket. “Where’d you get it?”

  “I stole it.”

  “From the Wolfsbane Druid,” I murmured. “Your master.”

  He kept walking. “Yes.”

  “Did you kill your master?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I wanted to.”

  I rolled my eyes at his “end of conversation” tone. As he rounded a corner, I trotted a few steps to keep up. “Zak?”

  “What now?

  “Where the hell are we going?”

  “I’m checking locations where I can usually find rogue informants, but they’ve all been abandoned so far.” His voice went a little raspier. “Varvara’s been very thorough.”

  I dusted my hands together. “Well, guess you’ll have to come back another time. We can go home now.”

  “If you want to go, then go.”

  “And what, walk through the worst neighborhood in the city, by myself, in the middle of the night, without a single artifact for defense?”

  He glanced at me, and I imagined him frowning in his shadowy hood. “I’ll send a varg with you.”

  “Your vargs are here? How? Echo only carried the two of us.”

  “My vargs,” he said, taking another corner—this time into a very dark alley, “have finally found some mythics, so I can spare one to make sure you get home safely.”

  And miss out on the fun now that he was going to question someone? I folded my arms. “Nah, I’ll stick around.”

  He growled under his breath.

  I peered around Zak at the overflowing dumpsters and drifts of garbage. The air reeked of moldy food and piss. “This is gross.”

  He swung his arm out to block my path and I walked into it. “Wait here. I’m known for operating alone. You’ll be a distraction.”

  I rolled my eyes again. “Fine.”

  He strode deeper into the alley. I watched him go, counting down in my head. When he was almost out of sight, I tiptoed after him. Yeah, he’d told me to stay out of it, but I could at least sneak in close enough to watch.

  The alley was unusually long and full of the garbage from the businesses that backed onto it. No lights broke up the darkness, and I had to rely on distant streetlamps and murky light pollution to find my way. The wind calmed as I moved deeper, but the stench worsened. Yuck.

  I heard the rogues before I spotted them. Male voices rumbled in low conversation, occasionally joined by a croaky female voice. I stole behind a dumpster and peeked out.

  Four men and a woman, smoking and talking, were huddled in a doorway with a single bulb. Scarcely any light leaked from the dim alcove. Dressed in dark clothes, they had the ratty appearance of trashy people who just didn’t care. Two men were big and heavyset, and the larger of the pair had a tattoo on the back of his shaved head. Of the other two, one was average height and one was short. The woman was middle-aged, crack-addict thin, and clutching a jacket that was far too flimsy for the winter chill.

  “… almost got roasted,” the big man was grumbling.

  “That’s why I bailed,” the smallest man said, twitching his cig uneasily. “Knew better than to take on mages.”

  The woman huddled deeper in her oversized coat. “But if it works—”

  “It ain’t gonna work. MagiPol will crush this whole thing.” The small man flicked his cigarette into the alley, a glowing speck in the darkness. “But maybe she’ll take the Yamadas down with her, and then there’ll be no one left but us.”

  They laughed, the sound an unnerving mix of hope, fear, and bitterness.

  I glanced past them, not seeing Zak. That could mean only one thing: it was time for one of the Ghost’s patented dramatic entrances.

  Almost on cue, the conversing rogues fell silent. They peered nervously into the shadows, elbowing each other as though hoping someone else would speak. I had no idea what they’d detected, but they already looked scared.

  With a swirl of shadow, the Ghost materialized from nothing.

  Coat sweeping out, hood full of shadows, dressed head to toe in black. Not even his backpack, slung over one shoulder, could detract from his aura of “holy shit, this dude is bad.”

  I almost snorted aloud.

  The rogues froze like rabbits, gawking in disbelief. The big guy tried to shrink behind his slightly less massive counterpart.

  “Gh-Gh-Ghost,” the woman stammered.

  I clapped a hand over my mouth, stifling a laugh. Jeez. They were nearly peeing themselves. Zak had done an excellent job beefing up his reputation to terror-inducing levels.

  “I just got back into town,” he rumbled, “and it seems I’ve missed some interesting developments. Which of you volunteers to bring me up to speed?”

  They exchanged horrified looks, as though he’d asked them to donate their kidneys. And then they bolted.

  Two ran farther down the alley while two charged straight toward my hiding spot. I ducked deeper into the shadows, and they rocketed right past me without a glance. The fifth rogue, the short one, flung open the door behind him and dove into the building.

  Zak didn’t bother chasing the runaways. He strode forward and disappeared through the door after the short guy.

  I glanced around, then skittered to the doorway and stepped through it. Inside was a foul, reeking stairwell, bare bulbs lighting the stained steps. Clattering sounds echoed from somewhere above, and I trotted up the stairs in pursuit.

  Four stories later, I peeked through a half-open door that led onto the rooftop. The building was much wider than it was long, the rough concrete covered in a layer of grit.

  Dead ahead, the unlucky rogue was backing fearfully across the roof. Zak leisurely advanced, a hint of shadow clinging to his legs with each slow step.

  “I-I don’t know nothing,” the man stammered. “I’m just scraping by. You know how it is—”

  “That didn’t sound like ‘nothing’ you were discussing a moment ago. Let’s start with that.”

  “I didn’t touch your territory, Ghost, I swear. It was all that psycho sorceress. She—”

  “We’re going to talk about her too.”

  The man’s mouth trembled. “You—you won’t be around long, not with that new bounty. You’re a dead man.” The rogue straightened his spine, gaining confidence. “Or should I say, a dead druid? Are you even a druid or is that MagiPol bullshit?”

  “What do you think?”

  With quiet snarls, two vargs appeared on either side of him, white teeth flashing against their black coats and red eyes gleaming with hunger.

  Paling, the rogue retreated in a frightened scramble. The vargs prowled after him, and the man halted with his heels at the rooftop’s edge.

  Zak ambled after his fae minions. “Tell me what you bailed on and what you think won’t work.”

  “I d-don’t know nothing—”

  Stepping between the vargs, Zak seized the front of the man’s jacket and pushed him closer to the edge—then shoved him off.

  The rogue squealed as he pitched over backward. Yellow light spiraled off Zak’s wrist and the wire-like magic snaked around the falling man’s torso. He jerked to a halt, his feet still on the ledge but the rest of his body tilted at a forty-five-degree angle over the street four stories below.

  Zak gripped the end of the magical rope, literally holding the man’s life in his hand.

  “Please,” he gasped. “Please don’t. Please—”

  “Let’s try one more time. Tell me what the sorceress is planning.”

  The rogue’s whole face trembled with terror. “Pandora Knights. The guild. She promised us revenge on them
. They mess up rogues so bad when they catch us. She—she got a bunch of guys together and gave them a plan and convinced them to attack the guild.”

  “Did you see this yourself?”

  “N-no. She only talked to a few people and they did the rest, but it was—it was definitely her.”

  “And you didn’t participate?”

  “I knew the Pandora Knights would wreck them. I w-was right. All they did was destroy the guild’s building.”

  “Hm.”

  “That’s all I know. Just what I heard from—”

  Zak opened his hand. The magical rope slid across his palm and the man dropped with a terrified shriek. Closing his hand again, Zak brought the rogue up short. Now hanging almost parallel to the ground, his boots scraping the rooftop edge for purchase, the rogue whimpered.

  “Since when do independent rogues take suggestions from a sorceress?” Zak asked conversationally.

  “Since you left,” the man blurted. “You were gone, Red Rum screwed up so bad they had to give up their holdings, and the Yamadas were throwing their weight around. They were taking over everything, but this sorceress, she came along and started interfering with the Yamadas’ plans and kept some of us out of MagiPol cells. She was better than the Yamadas, so we just went with it.”

  A long pause. “And?”

  “And she was offering good perks to anyone who wanted to work for her.” The rogue was near sobbing, head jerking as he looked from the shadowy Ghost and his two fae wolves to the lethal drop below him. “Most independents and small rogue guilds went to her. She’s got some sort of big plan, but I know better than to g-get involved in that kind of shit.”

  “I see. And where is the sorceress now?”

  A whine of terror. “I don’t know. She only meets with a few people at a time and always somewhere different. That’s all I know, I swear.”

  “Are you sure?” Zak let another few inches of slack slide through his hand.

  “That’s it! That’s it, that’s it, I swear. I don’t know anything more. Please, please let me—”

  “Last chance.”

  “I don’t know! Please, Ghost, please don’t—I don’t know anything else, I was staying out of it, I didn’t want any trouble. Please … please have mercy.”

  As the rogue trailed off into trembling whispers, Zak’s shoulders relaxed. I let out the breath I’d been holding, then straightened out of my tense crouch. Mission accomplished. Pretty sure, anyway. We at least knew why the rogue crime rate had dropped, but I had a lot more questions about Varvara’s big-picture scheme.

  Zak pulled on the rope, lifting the rogue, and the man’s face went slack with relief.

  “Ghost,” he stammered, sniffling like a child. “Thank y—”

  Zak flicked his hand and the golden rope vanished.

  Horror splashed across the rogue’s face—and he plummeted out of view. His scream rang out, sharp with terror. Falling. Receding. Then the most awful sound I’d ever heard. A sound so terrible it would be burned into my memory forever.

  I could still hear it, even after silence had fallen.

  Turning, Zak pushed his hood off and reached down to pat a varg. His bright green gaze caught on me, standing frozen in the dark doorway.

  He frowned. “I told you to wait in the alley.”

  My legs wobbled. I braced my hand on the doorjamb and whispered, “You dropped him.”

  His frown deepened.

  “You killed him.”

  “He’d have run straight to Varvara with the news that I’m here and hunting her.”

  “He told you what he knew.” I swallowed hard. “He was so afraid.”

  Zak’s gaze flicked across my face, and his frown shifted to a scowl. “What were you expecting, Tori? I didn’t come back to enact justice or some noble shit like that. I’m here to kill Varvara. I don’t give a f—”

  “You couldn’t find a way that didn’t involve killing that man?” I demanded, my voice shrill, words trembling in my throat. “I thought you were just scaring him, not—not—you didn’t have to—”

  He swept toward me. I stumbled back, my mouth dry.

  He stopped in the doorway, a foot of space between us. “I warned you before, but it seems you weren’t listening. Don’t get the wrong idea about me.”

  I forced my gaze to his. “You destroy black magic. You rescue homeless teens. You save baby dragons.”

  He started down the stairs.

  “You saved me!”

  His unfaltering footsteps receded as he left me on the landing, breathing hard and fighting for composure. He was dangerous, but he wasn’t a bad guy. The good he did outweighed the violence.

  That’s what I’d told myself. That’s what I’d believed all these months. That’s why I’d forgiven him for the cruel things he’d done to me. Was I wrong? Was I a naïve fool?

  Or had Varvara’s atrocities tipped the scales of his morality?

  The fierce druid warrior I’d so admired was inside him somewhere, but his heart had been torn open. He’d lost everything—his farm, his horses, his allies, his safe haven, his grimoire of condemning secrets. If he didn’t stop Varvara soon, she would destroy what little he had left—but how far would he go to stop her?

  Gasping back my shivers, I shoved off the doorframe and dashed down the stairs, oblivious to the stench, the stains, the graffiti. I slammed through the door at the bottom and rushed out into the dark alley.

  The stretch of asphalt was empty.

  Panting silently, I waited on the stoop, unable to believe he’d abandon me here. He was coming back. He’d be right back, sweeping dramatically from the darkness in a swirl of shadows, annoyed at me for delaying him.

  The seconds stretched into a minute.

  My nerves prickled. I looked toward the dumpsters.

  Ruby eyes above a dark snout looked back at me. The varg, sitting in the shadows, flicked its ears forward and back, then its muzzle ridged in a warning snarl.

  I drew in the deepest breath I could and held it until my heartbeat filled my ears. Letting it out, I stepped off the stoop. As I passed, the varg slunk after me, trailing ten feet behind. I glanced back every few steps, hoping its master would appear.

  When I reached the main road and stepped under the glow of a streetlamp, the varg faded from view—but I could feel its watchful eyes. It would follow me until I was safe.

  I checked the street signs to get my bearings, then wrapped my arms around myself, bent my head, and strode toward safety—the warm, bright safety I desperately needed right now.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I stood beneath the trellis that spanned Aaron’s front walk. The house was dark, its windows devoid of the warm lights that would’ve welcomed me back.

  Makiko had taken Kai, then Shane Davila had demanded Aaron’s help with the Pandora Knights attack and investigation. Ezra must’ve gone with Aaron. It made sense. I’d been whisked away via dragon, so Ezra wouldn’t have stayed home alone.

  My three mages weren’t here.

  I bit the inside of my cheek, fighting a wave of emotion. This was nothing I couldn’t handle. It was just a night alone. I was used to dealing with crap on my own. I was used to shitty people doing shitty things, even if I’d never witnessed a murder before.

  Pressing both hands to my face, my fingers and cheeks equally numb from the cold, I let out a harsh breath. Stay here or go home? Did I want to walk another thirty minutes, or did I want to sit in the empty house? I was used to being home alone, but hanging around the house without the guys would feel so … hollow.

  A quiet clack.

  I dropped my hands, my gaze darting to the house. The front door opened. A silhouette appeared in the dark threshold, followed by a soft, familiar voice that I needed to hear so badly I ached for it.

  “Tori.”

  I was running. I didn’t remember moving, but I was running, and then I was flying up the steps and throwing myself into Ezra. His arms closed around me, squeezing tight.


  Enfolded in his arms, the rigid tension inside me released. I slumped against him, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tremble in my limbs. My heart ached, wrung out from so much conflict and so little rest. He held me for a long minute—though not nearly long enough to suit me—then drew me inside the house and shut the door. When he flicked on the hall light, I flinched against the brightness.

  He gazed at me with mismatched eyes, somber and serious—actually serious, not his deadpan-humor version. His hair was rumpled and tired lines edged his mouth. “Tori, are you okay?”

  I nodded wearily. “I’m fine.”

  His fingers tugged on my coat zipper. I blinked confusedly as he unzipped it, pushed the jacket off my shoulders, and tossed it into the closet. He scanned me—double-checking I was unhurt—then brushed his thumb against my cheek.

  “What do you need?”

  Those might’ve been the best four words I’d heard this year. Closing my eyes, I weighed my options.

  “Shower,” I answered firmly. “Definitely a shower first.”

  “Straight downstairs, then.” He softened the order with a smile. “I’ll bring you clothes and a towel.”

  The hot shower warmed my frozen bones, and I spent a ridiculously long time standing under the million-and-one jets, basking in the heat. When I was too tired to keep upright, I exited the shower to find two fluffy towels and a stack of folded clothes on the counter. After scrunching the water from my hair and twisting it into a damp bun, I donned a tank top and snug-fitting yoga pants. He’d brought me a sweater as well, but I carried it instead, too overheated to put it on yet.

  On the main floor, I discovered Ezra in the kitchen, his back to me as he fiddled with something on the counter. He ushered me into the living room and onto the sofa, then flipped a thick, fuzzy blanket over my lap. Retrieving a pillow from upstairs, he tucked it beside me.

  I snuggled into my cushy nest—definitely no need for that sweater now—and waited as he clattered in the kitchen. A moment later, he returned with a steaming mug.

  “For me?” I wrapped my hands around the mug, my mouth instantly watering at the aroma of chocolate. Clean and warm, bundled in a blanket, with hot chocolate, lights holding back the darkness, and—