by Linsey Hall
Or worse?
I shook the thought away and forced my fangs to retract, then turned toward the door. Finding her would be easy. I’d use all the contacts at my disposal, and they were vast. She was likely going to head to the human morgue to follow the clue I’d given her. But she might not have left Guild City yet.
As I marched down the hallway, I passed several of the cocktail waitresses. They skirted to the side to give me a wide berth, their movements twitchy and nervous. They were afraid of me. Almost everyone was afraid of me.
Once, I might have cared.
Now?
No.
It was unusual that I even noticed them unless I perceived a threat.
The club itself was quiet as I strode through. Midafternoon was one of the less busy times, which was fine. It was primarily a front for my main business, anyway.
I reached the hostess stand, and Miranda leaned toward me to tell me about the woman’s escape. She’d frozen some of my guards, apparently.
Well done.
Fresh guards nodded as I emerged from the club and out into the watery sun. The light prickled against my skin but didn’t burn like human movies suggested it would. Despite that, I stuck to the shadows as I made my way through Guild City. I was more comfortable there, even if the sun wouldn’t incinerate me.
I passed a few citizens as I cut down the narrow alleys, and each one crossed the street to give me passage. They were even more afraid of me than my staff, though I didn’t understand it. I didn’t make a habit of killing people, after all.
I did kill people, of course. But not often. And not publicly.
Reputation could work wonders, though. And even I knew that I seemed icy. My past had followed me here, and people didn’t forget easily.
Eve’s shop was open when I arrived, and I entered silently. The tiny space smelled of a hundred different magics, all colliding with each other. I liked it in there because the sheer number of smells seemed to compensate for the fact that scent was always so muted for me.
Her wares cluttered the shelves, tiny bottles of potions gleaming in the dimness. Fairy lights sparkled near the ceiling of the shop. The raven sat on the shelf behind Eve, silent as always.
Eve glanced up, her expression bored. She froze when her gaze met mine, but she didn’t so much as twitch—that is, except her arching right eyebrow, a clear question. She waited silently. I wondered how sure she was of my past. People whispered of it, but no one knew for sure.
Even I was uncertain after so many years. Visions all clashed in my mind.
I shook away the thoughts. “I’m looking for a woman. You sold her a freezing potion.”
“Confidentiality.”
“I’m sure there’s a way around that.”
She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “There really isn’t. Why are you interested in her?”
I didn’t like the question. Partially because I didn’t want to share, but also because I didn’t want to examine it myself.
Why was I interested? Because something in me recognized her?
I shoved away the thought and sighed, more out of exhaustion than anything else.
She shifted nervously.
“Don’t make me,” I said.
She scowled. “I’m not making you do anything.”
No, she wasn’t. I chose to use my magic against her. Part of me didn’t like it, but a bigger part wanted to find the woman.
I called on the power that had been given to me when I’d been made into a vampire so many hundreds of years ago. Most vampires were born. Turned vampires rarely survived the transition, and when they did, they woke up with insane bloodlust and muted senses, a mimicry of their previous lives. The combination led to them going on killing rampages that were so dangerous they often ended up dead themselves.
But somehow, I’d survived.
Magic swelled within me, dark and fierce, a vortex of power that reached out of me and into Eve. It was easier than it had been with the woman who’d just visited me. She had been impossible to influence.
Eve, however, was not.
She grimaced, her eyes shooting daggers at me.
My magical signatures flared on the air. It was something I normally kept a tight rein on, but I needed it now. I knew my signatures were horrifying. They’d served me well when I’d first been made. Screams of the dying, the icy grip of the reaper. The smell of brimstone and the taste of dirt.
She paled and shrank back, her bravado gone.
The worst I would do to her was force her to tell me what I wanted to know. Perhaps I could refuse to sell her my protection, but she didn’t need to know that. I wouldn't waste time on killing her, not when the witches would jump to take out her shop. She was competition, and that Guild was fierce. I helped Eve stay open to irritate them.
“Tell me what I want to know. Who was the woman to whom you sold the potion?”
“Fine.” Her words were tight, her eyes flashing with anger as my magic forced the truth from lips. “Her name was Carrow. She’s some friend of Mac’s, and she can read objects and people with a touch. That’s all I know.” She gave me a crafty smile. “And I just had my runner deliver a truth serum to her. So, be ready for that. She might even use it on you.”
Interesting. “Thank you. If they visit you again, be sure to let me know.”
She hissed at me, and I just smiled. “Good day.”
If she responded, I didn’t notice. My mind was already on the woman. Carrow. Her name was Carrow.
I strode out of the shop and turned toward Mac’s door. She lived so close that it was worth checking.
What I would do when I found the woman…I wasn’t quite sure. But I was curious, and I hadn’t been curious in years. Finally, something interesting was happening.
The murder itself was only slightly noteworthy. True, I wanted to know who was behind it and what they were planning. Why they’d stolen the dagger from me. But it was Carrow herself who really piqued my interest.
At the green door that led to Mac’s stairs, I used my city key. It opened almost any door in town and was a perk of having as much power as I did. Taking the stairs two at a time, I ascended silently. When I reached Mac’s door on the second level, I knocked. I could have used the key like I had the bottom or even broken the lock, but a streak of conscience tugged at me. It was a rare and awkward feeling, quite frankly, but I heeded it. I definitely had a conscience; it was just well buried.
No one answered the door, and the space within was silent. My hearing was unnaturally good. No one was home. I turned and left, heading back toward my club. The bouncers waited at the front, still and silent. Both shifters had been in my employ for over a decade. Powerful and loyal, the best security was hired from the Shifters’ Guild. Their eyes were cold and dead, but they weren’t monsters.
Not like I was.
I passed them and stopped at Miranda’s desk. My second in command leaned forward expectantly, a half smile on her face. She looked unassuming in her heels and simple black dress, but she could kill someone with a scream. One of the advantages of having a banshee on staff.
“Tell the city spies to let me know when they spot Mac and her friend,” I said. “Immediately.”
Miranda nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I grinned, walking into the club.
If Carrow was in Guild City, she was mine.
Carrow
A couple hours later, after a catnap and a party makeover, Mac and I were dressed as fabulous postapocalyptic junkyard slum queens—colorful sequins and leather and platform boots. Eve’s employee had delivered the truth serum, and I wore the tiny vial on a chain around my neck.
“This isn’t my usual,” I said as we strode down the streets of Guild City, magic sparking all around us. “But I like it.”
“You look like a badass in your jeans and leather jacket,” Mac said. “But this is a fun change.”
“This whole thing is a fun change.” The night was alive around us, the old
buildings gleaming with light and magic. The interiors of the shop windows seemed to come alive.
All of this was so much better than my lonely flat and the constant doubt of the only people I knew. I missed Cordelia a bit, but she’d never paid me any attention, anyway, so she certainly wasn’t missing me.
I turned my attention to the shops around me. This was what I was most interested in right now. My primary goal was to solve the murder, but I was going to have a small bit of fun while doing it. It was impossible not to stare at magic.
As we strode past a clothes shop, the outfits inside danced as if they were at a party we just had to join. Effective advertising, because it totally made me want a pair of really ugly jeans. They just looked like they were having such a good time.
The tea shop was giving the clothes shop a run for its money, though. The kettles in the window were shooting colorful steam into the air, and the teabags were leaping like trained mice. Next door, swords clanged in a mock battle, and daggers shot around the empty store.
“This is so much cooler than my regular life.” I could hear the wistfulness in my own voice.
“That bad, huh?”
I shrugged, dragging my eyes from a fishmonger’s shop that seemed to be filled entirely with water. An octopus swam in fancy patterns, drawing hearts with ink that it shot from its back end. “It’s fine. Just… normal.”
“And you’re not normal.”
“I guess not.”
Mac turned onto another street. Like all the rest, it was narrow and winding, with old buildings crowded together on either side. Most were in the Tudor style, made of white plaster and dark wood, with sharply slanted roofs and glittering mullioned windows. The shops here were quieter, but the stillness made it easier to hear the party in the distance.
“That’s the witches,” Mac said. “Their full moon masquerades are legendary.”
“It’s not the full moon, though.” I looked up at the huge, glowing orb. We were probably a couple days away from full.
“They get excited and host it early.” Mac shrugged. “Only about once a year do they manage the restraint to wait until the moon is full.”
I grinned, liking the witches already.
We turned at a bend in the street, and I could finally see all the way to the end. Colored lights exploded in the sky—like fireworks, just way too low to be safe. When we reached the end of the lane and I could get a better view across the square, I spotted a fantastic old tower that leaned slightly to the left.
Mac gestured to it. “Voila! The Witches’ Guild.”
“You’re telling me.” It was perfect.
I’d had no opinion about witches and their guilds before, but now that I saw this place…it looked just like it should. The tower itself was pale brown on a square base and teetered to the left like a drunk. Wooden staircases wrapped around the sides, leading up to a door. The windows were dark and empty, occasionally flashing with light.
And the roof…that was the best bit. Dark and pointed, like a witch’s hat. Pale blue smoke wafted from a chimney, replaced occasionally with sparks of light. Music blared from the place, and I could feel the energy of the party inside. Every now and again, lights exploded right above the lawn—the fireworks that I’d thought I’d seen.
“Each guild tower is built right into the city wall,” Mac said. “And each has a square in front of it.”
I eyed the open space, which was covered in patchy grass. The shops there were mostly derelict, run-down or closed.
“This part of town is shadier,” Mac said. “You can blame the witches. They’re so loud and destructive that shops don’t want to risk it. This lawn catches fire at least twice a year, and spells shoot out the chimney all the time. Frankly, it’s a hazard to be located close to them.”
“The Council of Guilds doesn’t control them?”
“They try. But it’s hard. The witches are part of the council, so they’ve got some say.”
“Sounds like they have a lot of clout.”
“Yeah, that’s what comes with powerful magic in Guild City, and the witches have some seriously powerful magic.”
The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, bright and white. A wolf howled in the distance, and another one streaked across the lawn.
I stepped closer to Mac. “Was that a real werewolf?”
“Yeah. Some of them go nuts near the full moon.”
“Will they…bite?”
“Nah. Not unless you want them to.” She winked at me.
“No, thanks.”
“Good choice.” She laughed. “Let’s go.”
She strode across the lawn, and I followed. The music grew louder as we neared, and the lights flashing in the windows occasionally revealed people dancing.
“Is everyone in town invited?” I asked.
“No. And technically, we’re not, either.” She pulled her sequin mask down over her face. “But that’s part of the fun.”
We were going to gate-crash a masquerade held by witches.
Hell, yeah, that sounded fun.
Way more fun than my normal life.
Who’d have thought that getting accused of murder would be one of the best things to ever happen to me? Assuming I could clear my name and not get tossed in prison.
Mac took the creaky wooden stairs two at a time, and I followed her, pulling my mask down. It concealed the top half of my face, a glittery thing covered with sparkles that was more fabulous than anything I owned back in the real world. I hurried up the stairs in my platform boots. The heels were heavy, and I liked them. They would make a good weapon if I had to kick someone.
When we reached the front door, it swung open without us having to knock. A dour butler stood in the entry, his dark suit immaculately pressed and his white hair perfectly combed. He couldn’t have looked less impressed if he tried, and I found myself loving him.
“Jeeves!” Mac grinned widely. “Long time no see, buddy.”
“You are not invited, Macbeth O’Connell.”
“Pshaw,” Mac scoffed. “Check your list. You’ll find my name.”
Jeeves’s white brows lowered. “I am certain I won’t.”
She touched his arm in a friendly gesture, her smile stretching wider. “I'm sure you wouldn’t want Dorothea knowing about your little…hobby?”
Jeeves flushed scarlet, and I wondered who Dorothea was. My gaze moved to Mac’s hand, where she still clutched at Jeeves. She was using her seer’s gift on him and getting blackmail material, I realized.
Holy crap, that was dark.
And clever.
Jeeves sighed and stepped back. “You may enter. But no tricks.”
“Tricks?” She pointed to herself. “Me? Never!”
He glared at her, and I followed her in, giving him an awkward little wave.
As soon as we entered, a crush of people surrounded us. Everyone was dressed to the nines, all in fabulous crazy outfits. There was a giant chicken who shot sparks out of its tail feathers, a monkey with golden fur, and an eight-legged dog who might have been an actual dog and not a costume.
“This place is wild,” I murmured to Mac.
“No kidding.” She grinned widely. “The witches know how to party.”
“Do you gate-crash often?”
“Every time. It’s part of the fun.” She tugged on my arm. “Now come on, I’ve got something I need to do before we meet the witches. It’ll only take half a second, but it’s important. Then we’re on to your stuff.”
I followed her through the various rooms. Each was decorated differently, with fabulous furniture and wild art on the walls. It was all very haphazard and mismatched, but in a funky, cool way.
As we walked, I realized that the rooms were themed for the party. One was done up entirely in glowing red with a volcano in the corner. It went all the way to the top of the tall ceiling, spilling brilliant red lava. People danced around it, drunk and laughing, but I couldn’t look away from the molten stream.
“Is
that thing real?” I shouted to Mac over the noise. I knew it couldn’t be, but it looked so lifelike, I had to ask.
“Yeah,” she shouted. “Totally real!”
“Yikes.” It defied the laws of science. But then, I’d entered a world of magic.
“Yeah, don’t fall in. Someone dies at one of these parties at least once a year. Usually a drunken idiot.”
Given the number of people dancing super-close to the river of lava that flowed through the room, I wasn’t surprised. “This would never happen in the real world.”
“The real world doesn’t have magic out in the open like this,” Mac said. “But then again, the Council of Guilds really doesn’t like that the witches do this, either.”
“How do they get away with it if the government doesn’t like it? I know they’ve got sway with the Council, but this seems over the top.”
Mac turned to me and raised her brows. “Can’t you guess?”
Of course. “The Devil of Darkvale.”
“Exactly. He either uses his mind control power or threatens them.”
I remembered the icy feeling of him. “My money is on threats.”
“Mine, too.” Mac turned back and kept pushing her way through the crowd.
We entered a Mardi Gras–themed room, complete with two massive floats and people on stilts. I squinted up at the performers towering over the chamber, admiring their feathery costumes in purple, yellow, and green. Gradually, it dawned on me that they weren’t on stilts.
They were floating.
Man, I hadn’t even had a drink yet.
In the next room, Mac muttered, “Bingo.”
The room was themed like the moon, with rocky ground and dark walls. Gravity seemed to lessen here, and my steps were so light that I could bounce across the ground. “Holy crap, this is amazing!”
“Right?” Mac grinned back at me. “They’ve always got a low-gravity room like this at their parties. Last year, it was undersea themed.”
“Nice.”
