Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel #1) - Linsey Hall Page 0,54
I stopped in front of the stone wall. There was nothing here—no door or window or light fixture. At least, not that the eye could see. Quickly, I located the stone that I wanted and tapped twice.
Pale magic sparked in the air, and faint wisps of light swirled in front of the stone.
“What are you doing?” Carrow asked.
“Secret entrance. Most of the sorcerers . . . don’t like me.”
“But you do have a contact inside?”
“I do, and this door was built especially for my use.”
“This is who you are, then? Someone who has secret power all over the city, lurking around like a giant bat?”
A rare grin cracked my face, and I almost felt a laugh rise to the surface. Almost. I looked down at her. “A giant bat?”
“You’re the one who made the flying joke.” She grinned up at me, so beautiful in the moonlight that it hurt to look at her. The glow of the moon seemed to give her a bit of extra color that my turned eyes couldn’t normally pick up.
My gaze lingered on the smooth skin of her throat, and I swallowed hard. There was something about her—about her energy and her spirit, as strange as it sounded—that called to me. I couldn’t compel her, and I liked that. But it was more than that. Strange to feel so much for someone I’d known so little . . . and bloody uncomfortable.
“You know, because you’re a vampire,” she clarified.
I’d been staring at her in silence for too long, and she’d taken it for confusion. “I understand,” I said.
“Are you really hundreds of years old?” She searched my face, avoiding my eyes. “Really Vlad the Impaler?”
Guilt streaked through me, so visceral and real that I almost twitched. Those memories were long buried—for my own sanity. I’d done things I wasn’t proud of, and in terrible moments, I wondered if I’d wanted to do them.
I had.
It had been more than the blood lust and insanity of a newly turned vampire.
I’d wanted to do terrible things.
The wall in front of me began to dissolve, and I turned to it, grateful for the interruption. I could feel her gaze on me as the wall disappeared entirely.
A pale man stood there, tall and broad-shouldered and wearing the long black cloak of the Sorcerers’ Guild. I felt a streak of annoyance as Carrow’s attention shifted to Remington. I didn’t want her to look at him. I wanted her gaze on me, always.
“Devil.” Remington nodded his head, his eyes going to Carrow. He frowned. “And a guest?”
“Indeed.”
“This is unusual.”
“Don’t think too deeply about it.” I had no intention of introducing Carrow. She was mine, though she didn’t know it yet, and Remington was powerful and dangerous. I didn’t want him to get too interested in her.
“I’m Carrow Burton,” she said.
I stifled an annoyed noise. I should have anticipated that Carrow would do whatever the hell she wanted. I hadn’t known her long, but I did know that.
“Remington, Sorcerers’ Guild.”
“I can see that.” Her gaze moved over the building. “Nice place you have here.”
Remington’s brows rose. Nice place.
I nearly chuckled again. That was two times she’d nearly made me laugh, two times in hundreds of years. It made my throat feel strange, and I resisted rubbing it.
“Come.” Remington turned and led us into a darkened stairwell, a magical and secret set of stairs that he’d created.
We strode up the dark, narrow steps, six stories that rose up and up, until we arrived at the roof. Remington opened the hatch at the top of the tower, and we followed him out and into the open air.
It always felt closer to the moon up here, something that I enjoyed. One of the few things I enjoyed these days. A faint breeze blew across the top of the tower, bringing the scent of rain with it. The city sprawled beneath us, ancient streets twisting alongside each other, golden streetlamps glowing.
Remington turned to us. “What can I do for you, Devil?”
I held out my hand to Carrow. “Your mobile, please.”
She pulled it out of her pocket and fiddled with it for a moment. When she handed it to me, the image of the body was on the screen. The burn mark was clear—two stars overlapping each other. I showed it to Remington. “We want to track whoever made this mark.”
He studied it a moment, a frown stretching across his face. “A necromancer?”