Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 1)

“It may be too late.”

“It’s never too late.” That was a bloody lie. It was often too late. I’d learned that the hard way. “But if that’s all you have there, I see no reason why you would stay in the human world.”

She was silent for a moment, and I could see the thoughts turning behind her eyes. “What about you? I answered you. Your turn.”

My enhanced hearing picked up the sound of footsteps, and I grinned. “I believe Remington is returning.”

“You haven’t answered my questions.”

“Alas, I have not.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It certainly isn’t.”

Carrow

I grumbled, giving the Devil one last annoyed look. He’d told me his name was Grey, but it was still hard to think of him that way.

Remington appeared through the trap door, a leather bag in his hands. He approached, asking, “Could I see that image again?”

I pulled out my mobile, showing the picture to Remington. He studied it for a moment, then nodded. “That’s all I need, thank you.”

Quickly, I put the mobile back in my pocket. The Devil stood next to me. His face was impassive as the sorcerer reached inside his leather bag. This was old hat to him, but magic still astounded me.

He still astounded me.

A vampire, and one who so quickly saw to the heart of me. Who distracted me so easily. Who played me like a fiddle.

I didn’t like it.

I stepped away from him, determined to ignore him. It wasn’t easy when his scent wrapped around me, rich and delicious. I wanted to breathe him in. Hell, I just wanted to stand in his presence and feel whatever strange connection it was that we had. I was afraid of him, I didn’t particularly like him, but damn if he didn’t make me feel good just by standing next to me.

Alive. That’s how I felt. So alive that I vibrated with it.

In the human world, I’d existed, a shadow life in a shadow world. There, but not there. Half dead, even. Just me and Cordelia and my little single-size boxes of wine.

And now I was here, and the world seemed so big and open and amazing.

Remington pulled various vials of potion out o

f his bag and poured them on the ground like paint, drawing a pattern that matched the image on my phone. The symbol that had been carved—or burned—into the victim’s chest appeared on the rooftop, two meters wide, a perfect duplicate at a larger scale.

As Remington finished, the moon began to glow more brightly. A ray of light shone from it, strong and distinct, illuminating the symbol on the rooftop.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

“The moonlight will find your murderer,” he explained. “It helps that it’s nearly the full moon—the spell will be stronger. It is searching Guild City and then London, looking for whoever created the symbol in the body of your victim.”

Wow. “How long will it take?”

Remington gave a faint shrug. “It depends on where your murderer is. Could be minutes or hours.”

“Could you alert me when it is done?” the Devil asked.

“I will, yes.”

“Thank you, Remington.” The Devil reached into his pocket, withdrew something small I couldn’t see, and passed it to Remington. The sorcerer took it and appeared satisfied. That done, the Devil turned to me. “Shall we go?”