Devilish Game (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 4)

Eve’s lightning blasted the ground between us and the attackers, the bright light blinding and the noise nearly deafening. It bought us time, though, and I turned to Mac to shout, “We can’t take them all. But we can take one back for interrogation.”

Mac nodded and dug into her pocket for a transport charm. “You’ve got your charm?”

“Yeah.” We’d each need one if we were both going to carry an unconscious body back. Eve had her own, thank fates. “You get Seraphia. I’ll meet you at the Hound.”

“Be careful.” She darted toward our friend, who was still unconscious. Fear pierced me. Please be okay.

I sprinted toward the closest unconscious body. I didn’t need to be grappling with one of the conscious ones, even if they were injured.

The robed figures sprinted down the temple stairs, powering up their magic. It glowed around their hands as I neared the body I’d chosen. I could feel their power in the air, the dark magic that reeked of death and decay. Several of them raised their hands, magic sparking around their palms.

One of them hurled a shrieking green banshee blast right at Mac as she grabbed Seraphia and hauled her upright. It was nearly to them when she slammed her transport charm to the ground and dragged Seraphia into the silvery gray cloud.

They’re safe.

Two others aimed at me, magic glowing around their fists.

I was only ten feet from the body. I hurled my transport charm to the ground right next to the still form. Magic flew through the air toward me, two of the smoky galloping stallions. Their hoofbeats reverberated in my chest as I lunged for the body and grabbed an arm, hurling myself into the silvery gray cloud of the transport charm.

One of the beasts followed me in, its magic seeming to pollute the ether that spun me through space. Panic flared as pain enveloped me, threatening to tear me away from the person that I’d grabbed. It felt like I’d been tossed into a blender with a magical stallion from hell. Its hooves slammed into my chest, driving the breath from my lungs.

I clung tight to the arm of my prey, finally tumbling to the ground in the middle of the Haunted Hound.

Panting, I stared at the ceiling. I could feel the arm of the person in my grip, but I had no idea if I’d brought the rest of the body with me.

“Is there a hell stallion in here?” I croaked.

“No missy, but you look like hell.” An ancient, wrinkled face leaned over me, blue eyes peering hard. “Your boyfriend is wearing a weird outfit, and I’m saying that as a member of the Mystical Mentoria.”

I blinked. I had no idea what the Mystical Mentoria was, but the woman did appear to be dressed like a lunatic, in seven different styles of polka dots and a cloak stitched with a million sequins.

What the hell?

Had I screwed up the transport charm?

“Step back, Betty.” Quinn’s calm voice pierced my panic, and I heaved out a relieved breath.

Betty moved back far enough that I could sit, and I dragged myself upright. In a split second, I absorbed the scene.

I’d gotten my guy—all in one piece.

There was no smoky hell stallion here, thank fates.

Eve appeared, her wings still out and her hair windblown.

And Mac and Seraphia lay on the ground near the fireplace, gasping.

It was about as good as could be expected.

“Who’s this bloke?” Quinn asked.

“One of the bastards responsible for kidnapping our friends. He’ll come to, soon.” I stumbled upright, determined to get to Seraphia, who was still unconscious.

“I’ll tie him up then.” Quinn bent down and grabbed the body, swinging it up over his shoulder.

I raced to Mac, who was leaning over a prone Seraphia. Eve landed on her knees next to us. “Is she all right?”

Mac pressed her fingertips to Seraphia’s neck. “She’s got a pulse.”