by Linsey Hall
All around me, the air prickled with something I couldn’t identify. It gave me the strangest sense of déjà vu. I swear I’d felt this before.
Breath held, I slid onto a barstool.
I’d reached my final destination—I just needed to figure out why the victim had a matchbook from this place when he died. It was possible the cops could find a link to this location and show up, but as long as the dead guy hadn’t had two matchbooks on him, I’d have a little while.
From my stool, I had a view into a mirror over the bar. I could see the patrons behind me, and upon closer inspection, a lot of them looked kind of…weird. I swore that one of them had vaguely green skin. Not in an “I’m going to puke” kind of way, but more of an “I’m from Mars” fashion.
Nah.
But another one looked to have tiny horns peeping up from his hair.
Double nah.
Then I spotted the woman with three eyes.
Well, shit.
I blinked a few times, mind racing. The man in my vision—the killer—he’d seemed to have fangs. I’d thought it was crazy at the time, but…
The woman’s third eye, which sat right in the middle of her forehead and was a beautiful lavender color, made contact with mine. She blinked, and it was entirely too realistic.
Quickly, I looked away, my heart pounding.
I spotted a shadowy form near the fire—a dog, curled up on a bed. He was transparent.
Ghost dog.
No way.
The bartender loomed in front of me, and I jumped.
“You all right?” she asked.
“Um, yeah.” I smiled, trying to look normal and knowing that I probably came off as insane.
“You’re not all right.” She said it in the way that a therapist would say it. Or like a really experienced bartender.
“Ah, no.”
“Here.” She set the teacup down in front of me, then added a tiny carafe of milk and a plate of biscuits.
My gaze fell to them, recognizing the golden rounds. “HobNobs.”
“No baking in here, I’m afraid.” She raised slender hands. “I’m shit with it. But you’ll get Tesco’s best.”
I grinned. “I don’t mind supermarket biscuits.”
“Then you’re in luck.”
I went for the biscuit first, crunching into the treat and chowing down like a professional eater.
“Stressed?” she asked.
I looked up, my mouth full of biscuit, and did my best to speak around it. “How could you tell?”
“You’re going at those like a rat in a bin.” She raised her hands. “No judgment. You should see me with the Oreos when I get stressed. I make you look like a novice.”
I couldn’t help but smile at her friendly voice. It’d been a long time since I’d had friends. Like, forever. My life was gray and lonely and lame, but it was by my choice. I shook the thought away and said, “Right. The stress eating. I do that.”
“At least it’s not drinking.”
“Tea, maybe.” I added some milk to the cup and drank, sucking it down despite the heat.
She leaned on the bar, the sinewy muscles in her arms pulling tightly at her thin T-shirt. “Care to share?”
“Ah—” I kept checking out the mirror next to her, and my head spun. I knew how to do an investigation. I’d been trained for it. And that’s what I was doing here.
I just needed to get my head in the game.
Except the woman with the three eyes kept meeting my gaze in the mirror.
“What the hell is this place?” I asked.
“The Haunted Hound.”
“Yeah, I read that on the door. But, like, what is it?”
“A pub?”
“Right. Hidden behind weird bins and filled with people in amazing costumes.”
She frowned. “Costumes?”
“Ah…” Subtly, I tried to point my thumb toward the three-eyed woman behind me.
“Clarissa is a triclops demon.”
“Demon?” Somehow, I knew her words were true. And while I wanted to put my head between my knees and hyperventilate for about six hours, I didn’t have time for that.
The cops could show up here, and I needed to be gone—with my answers—before that happened.
So I did what I’d done when I was a kid and the horror got to be too much.
“Just keep swimming,” I muttered. I focused on the task. I had only the vaguest memories of my shitty childhood with my abusive guardian, but one of them was very clear.
I knew how to shove aside all my panic and go tunnel vision on my goal.
Right now, I needed to solve this murder.
Whatever was happening in this bar could wait until I’d cleared my name.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” the bartender asked.
“No.” I was from London, yes. But that wasn’t what she was asking. “I’m investigating a murder.”
Her brows shot upward. “A murder?”
“Yeah. Guy with a dragon tattoo circling his neck had his head bashed in.” I described the crime scene and nearly mentioned Beatrix, but I held my tongue. Didn’t need to spill my guts. “And he had this on him,” I said, holding up the matchbook.
Her expression didn’t change, but she was suddenly alert. “You with the police?”
Inside, I cringed. This was the part of investigations that I hated. Often, I thought my job would be easier if I could pull out a badge and demand answers. People never understood when you tried to explain that you’d failed out of police training for being a weirdo.
At least, I assumed they wouldn’t understand. I wasn’t dumb enough to try to explain that to them.
“No, I’m not with the cops.”
Her expression seemed to clear, and she looked more comfortable.
Thank God. I could use a break. “Do you know the guy?”
She shrugged. “Not so much. Do you have any other leads?”
“Another man was at the scene. Tall, broad shouldered, silver eyes, with…”
Fangs. Could I even say that?
I glanced behind me at the crowd of weirdos.
Yeah. I could say that.
“He was wearing fangs,” I said.
“Wearing them?”
“Yeah. Like here.” I made a V with my fingers and pointed to my canines.
“You mean he had fangs.”
“Sure. Yes.” These people were serious about their cosplay, so I wasn’t going to offend her by being pedantic. I remembered the feeling that she was telling the truth about the three-eyed demon woman but shoved it aside in favor of retaining my sanity.
“That could be a lot of people. Do you have another description?”
That he was sexy and seemed to be haunting my waking dreams? “No.”
“But you saw him?”
“Not well. I don’t…remember any more details.” And I wasn’t going to share that he’d spoken to me.
“But they might be in your head?”
“In my memories, maybe.”
“I can help,” she said.
“Really? Are you like an amateur hypnotist? Or a police artist?”
“I’m a seer. I can see into your mind. Maybe I’ll recognize the guy.”
“Um…” Was she crazy?
She crossed her arms and leaned back against the counter behind her. “What’s your deal?”
“What do you mean?”
“You seem really on edge. And confused.” She gestured around the bar. “By this place.”
“I mean…duh? Everyone here is wearing a Hollywood-level costume at ten in the morning.”
“There’s a cosplay conference nearby.”
“Really?” Relief flashed through me. Now it all made sense. I liked it when things made sense.
“No.” She laughed. “Of course not.” Then she leaned forward, her eyes searching my face. “But I like you. You’ve got a good vibe. That’s why I want to know what’s up with you.”
“W
hat’s up is that I’m looking for a murderer.”
“And you’ve also walked into one of the few shadow world pubs in town and seem to think everyone is cosplaying.”
Shit. I was clearly floundering here. “Um…”
“You don’t know what the shadow world is.” Her eyes widened. “You don’t know that magic is real.” The last words were said in a hushed tone.
“Should I?”
“You found your way into this bar, so . . . yes.”
“Oh, crap.” My hands curled into fists.
“This pub is a shadow world. In between the magical realm and the human one. What’s your gift?”
I gave her a blank look.
“Your magical gift. Surely you’ve got one. I can feel your signature, even though you should be keeping it on the down-low around here.”
“Signature?”
“All Magica—that’s magic people, by the way—have a signature that’s uniquely their own. It corresponds to any of the five senses. Strong Magica have all five signatures. And you…” She hesitated a moment, her gaze flickering as she inhaled. “Have all five.”
She looked impressed. Also a little wary.
There was a loud buzzing sound in my head. I didn’t want to believe this. It was crazy. But… “When I touch things or people, I sometimes have visions.”
“Oh, clairvoyance. Nice. You must be powerful.”
“I have no idea.”
“Oh, honey, you are. I can feel it.” She frowned. “But you’ve been living your whole life in the human world?”
“Uh…yeah. What other world is there?”
She gestured around us.
“There are bars everywhere,” I said.
“It’s more than a bar, but I’ll ignore that grievous slight to my honor.”
A million questions raced through my mind, almost all of them having to do with this place and the world and me. So many questions I felt like they could tear my mind apart.
No.
I focused on the one thing that needed to be done to keep me alive. It was a terrible thing to learn how to do when you were a kid, but it was the reason I was still here and the reason I was going to solve this damned murder and clear my name.
Then I could learn more about this crazy world. If it even existed. She might be just great at goading people and pulling my leg.
I knew it wasn’t true, but pretending it was helped me keep my sanity.
“I’m sorry about the bar comment. And I want to learn more about this…new world. But I have to solve this murder and clear my name. I have to focus on that first.” I felt like I’d break apart if I didn’t do that. “Can you help me?”
Something unidentifiable flickered in her eyes, then she nodded. “You’re a strange one…”
She was clearly waiting for my name, so I said, “Carrow.”
“Mac.” She stuck out her hand with a grin. “I like the strange ones.”
I grinned back at her, unable to help it. I extended my hand and gripped hers, starting to shake. It was the first time I’d touched her skin, and as usual, I got a read on her. A vision flashed in my mind—the two of us drinking some violently green drink and laughing.
We would be friends.
But then, a strange buzzing fizzled through my head. I blinked, shaking it, and tried to tug my hand away. But Mac didn’t let go.
Her eyes widened. “Holy fates, girl. You’ve seen the Devil himself.”
“What?”
“The Devil of Darkvale.”
“Who the hell is that?”
“Your killer? The man you saw in your vision? He’s the most dangerous—and powerful—man in Guild City. And if I were you, I’d be very careful.”
5
The Devil
A knock on my office door distracted me from my dinner, an unappetizing cup of blood. I looked up as the door opened and the hostess of my club walked in. Miranda was my second in command, and she knew everything that went on in my empire.
She stopped near the door, a courtesy I appreciated. I didn’t like it when people got too close.
Objectively speaking, Miranda was beautiful, with her slim figure and dark hair, but her beauty barely registered on my radar.
No person had registered for me in hundreds of years.
Not until the woman.
“She has entered the Haunted Hound,” Miranda said.
“Excellent.” My heartbeat quickened.
“Shall I alert you when she enters Guild City?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Miranda slipped back out the door, and I returned my attention to the cup of red liquid. I hadn’t drunk straight from the source in more than a century. Not because feeding incited blood lust. It was unlikely, given my strength and age. No… I had no desire to touch another person. And it reminded me of the horrors of my past—of all the terrible things I’d done, of what I’d been.
The Impaler.
That was long ago, though.
This was the present, and it brought with it the woman.
What was it about her?
I’d find out soon enough when she came to me.
Carrow
“Just my luck.” I frowned at the idea of trying to catch the most dangerous man in Guild City. But… “What the heck is Guild City?”
“I can show you.” Mac grinned and looked at the clock behind the bar. “Quinn will be on shift any minute. Then I’ll take you.”
“Could you give me a few more details about Guild City before Quinn shows up?” I prodded.
A tall figure appeared at the side of the bar, and Mac turned to him, a smile stretching across her face. “Perfect timing.”
I turned to look, spotting a man.
He wasn’t bad looking, actually. In fact, he was very good looking. Tall and strong, with dark auburn hair and tanned skin. His arms were big enough that he looked like he doubled as a bouncer.
One dark red eyebrow rose on his forehead, and I realized I’d been staring.
Shit.
His green eyes studied my face as he approached. “Got a new friend, Mac?” His voice had a pleasantly deep timbre.
“Yep!” Mac grinned widely and gestured between us. “Carrow, this is Quinn. He’s a panther shifter. Big one, too. Quinn, Carrow.”
“Hey.” Quinn’s lips tugged up at the corner in a sexy smile. “You’re something special, aren’t you?”
What a flirt. I couldn’t acknowledge the special comment, so I just said, “Hi.”
“Afternoon shift is best, you know,” he said. “Come back when I’m on. I’ll make you the best drink you’ve ever had.”
Mac slapped him on the arm playfully. “You flirt. Lay off.”
He grinned at her, shooting me another look. “Can’t help it. Never met a girl I didn’t like.”
“That’s true.” Mac rolled her eyes at him, and then looked at me. “Come on, Carrow. We’re going to blow this joint and leave this loser to hit on whoever comes in next. With any luck, it will be old Mrs. Wunklebotten.”
Quinn laughed, a rich, good-natured sound. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
Mac came around the bar and grabbed my arm, pulling me behind her. For the briefest moment, I felt a warm feeling, like being in a fluffy cloud of friendship. Like this was a place and a group of people where I could belong. Where I might not be alone and looked at as the weirdo.
I shook my head, trying to drive the thought off. I wasn’t that lame. Seriously.
Mac hurried through the bar, headed toward the back corner. Quinn had come from this direction, but it looked like it just led to the toilets.
“Where are we going?”
She looked back at me with a grin. “Guild City, of course.”
“Is it in the toilets?”
Mac laughed. “Almost.”
She tugged me into a dark hallway. One side was lined with shelves of liquor bottles, but the rest was empty. It was dark and quiet back there.
A frisson of ne
rves skated across my skin. I trusted her. I did. I could feel it.
But still…a lifetime of wariness left its mark.
In my pocket, my mobile vibrated. Dread unfurled in my stomach as I pulled it out and looked at the screen. A text from Corrigan.
Turn yourself in, Carrow Burton. If the city finds you through a manhunt, the judge will be less lenient.
I swallowed hard, ice chilling my skin. The city was gearing up for a manhunt.
“You okay?” Mac asked.
I jerked my head up, startled. “Yeah, yeah.” I shoved the mobile into my pocket. “Just nervous.”
“Don’t worry, it’s cool. You’ll see.”
She could sense my unease. Because she was a…seer?
Did I even believe this?
“Okay, we’re going to see if you can get in on your own,” Mac said. “I feel your magic, so it should be possible.”
“What do you mean?”
“Press your hands against the wall.” She grabbed both my hands and moved them into place. “The ether will pull you in, but you’ll be okay.”
“What’s the ether?”
“It’s the stuff that’s between everything. Like air, but magic. You can’t see it, but you can feel it.”
The plaster was cool under my palms, and then there was a fizzing feeling.
My hands sunk into the wall before my eyes. Shock made my stomach drop, but then the air pulled at me. It sucked me into the darkness, and then I was spinning. Spinning and spinning in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to scream, to run.
But I was trapped.
In the flash of a second, I felt my feet hit solid ground, and I stopped spinning.
Holy crap, the ether was strong.
I blinked into the daylight, shocked by my change of location. I stood in front of a massive wooden gate. A huge stone building was built over it, the glass windows winking in the pale sunlight. Two conical towers extended up from the building, flanked by stone walls on either side.
A freaking castle?
I spun to look behind and saw nothing but thick mist.
What the hell?
Mac appeared next to me half a second later, a big grin on her face. “Looks like you're as magical as I thought.”
