Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel #1) - Linsey Hall Page 0,61
necromancer at all.
“He’s human. No magic that I can feel. Not even well controlled magic.”
“But he still committed the murder?” I could hear the faint buzz from the magical compass that the Devil held.
“Yes. He may be a hired gun.”
I looked back at the man, anger bubbling inside me.
He was tall, with broad shoulders and a partially bald head. His plain white T-shirt was covered in dark stains that I initially took for blood.
No way.
I blinked, realizing it was probably engine grease.
Still, he had Beatrix’s blood on his hands. Anger seethed inside me like a snake, twisting and writhing.
As if he could feel the intensity of our scrutiny, the man turned to look at us. Moving in synchrony, as though we’d been partners for years, the Devil and I approached the bar and seated ourselves on either side of him. I clenched my fists to keep from punching him.
The man turned to look at me, his heavy bulldog’s face creased in a scowl. “What do you want?”
Heart pounding, I returned his stare.
Our suspect.
The murderer.
I could feel it, just like I’d suspected I might.
The Devil gripped the back of the man’s neck. “Look at me.”
The man flailed in his grasp. he Devil’s knuckles whitened, and the bastard stilled.
The bartender took a hasty step back, moving away from the confrontation.
I didn’t blame him. The Devil looked so ruthless that even I didn’t want to be near him right now, and he was on my side.
“Tell me about the murders you committed,” the Devil said.
“Where is the abducted person?” I cut in. I was desperate to know about Beatrix—but there was a living person’s life on the line. They had to come first.
The Devil tightened his hold on the man. “Answer her.”
“I have no idea what—”
“Answer truthfully.” The Devil’s voice lowered, and magic sparked in the air around him.
“It was a job, all right?” The words seemed torn from the man. “Just a job I was paid for.”
As we’d thought—he wasn’t the mastermind. Helpless rage twisted inside me at the idea that another person was out there, and that Beatrix’s murder had been just a job.
“Murder isn’t just a job,” I said, voicing my thoughts aloud.
“It is for me.”
“Where is the person you abducted?” I demanded.
“I don’t know!”
“It’s the truth.” The Devil’s voice was grim.
No. I couldn’t accept that. “Where do you think they are? Any clues? Anything at all.”
“I don’t know. The client mentioned something about a church.”
Just like the Devil had said. Flares of dark magic coming from different churches. “Which church?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care about churches, so I didn’t recognize it.”
“You’ve been there?” I asked.
“What if I have?”
“Where was it?”
“Somewhere in the city. Maybe near Fleet Street. Don’t know exactly. The client’s guys took me there to meet him, but I was blindfolded.”
Damn it.
I drew in a bracing breath, then reached out and touched his shoulder. A wave of disgusting energy flowed into me, making my stomach pitch. Sometimes, when I touched something with a particularly vile past, I could feel it. And this guy had a very vile past. I prayed I wouldn’t see Beatrix’s death.
Flashes of the recent murders ran through my mind…a club coming down on the first man’s head. A blade plunging into a chest. It made me ill. Cold chills raced over me, and my insides turned to snakes.
I swayed on my seat. The Devil gripped my shoulder, steadying me. I relaxed against his hand, absorbing his strength as I drew an unsteady breath.
The church…the church.
I had to see the church he’d been to.
But it was impossible to call up certain images or information. My gift showed me whatever it wanted, not whatever I wanted.
“The church, man.” The Devil’s words were harsh, and his magic flared in the air. “Think of the church.”
He knew what I was trying to do. I gave him a grateful smile.
A moment later, an image of the church flashed in my mind. Moderately sized, situated right in the middle of London. A small cemetery surrounded it, packed in between the tall buildings. But the building itself was unusual, with curving walls. I’d never seen a church shaped like that. Not here, at least.
Contact with the murderer was making me so woozy that it was nearly impossible to stay upright on the chair. I withdrew my hand from the man’s arm, sucking in some of the stale pub air.
“Is the abducted person still alive?” I demanded.
“Yes. He wanted her for a ceremony. Had to bring her alive for it.”