Once Bitten (Shadow Guild: The Rebel 1)

“So they aren’t compelled to?”

“When they’re recently turned, they might be. But not older ones.”

“Not the Devil, then.”

“No. But I’d still be wary of him.”

“Hell, yeah.”

She stopped in front of her green door. The savory scent of roasted meat wafted toward me, and I realized that Mac’s flat was right over a kebab place. How had I not noticed that?

“He didn’t try to control your mind?” she asked.

“I don’t think so. I thought my head might have felt a bit weird, but I didn’t feel like I was doing anything I didn’t want to do.”

“Hmm. You’

d have felt it.”

“Maybe it doesn’t work on me.”

“Then that would make you very special, indeed.”

Special to the Devil? I wasn’t sure I liked my odds of coming out of that alive.

“Come on up,” Mac said. “We need to get off the street.”

“He could get us out here?”

“If he really wanted to.”

“Lead the way.” Next time I saw him—if there was a next time—I needed to be in complete control.

Honestly, I hoped he wasn’t the killer so I wouldn’t have to see him again.

Mac unlocked the door and hurried up to her flat. I followed, stepping into the welcoming interior behind her. It was as small and cluttered as we’d left it, but after my brush with death at the Devil’s place, it looked extra good to me.

Mac spun around. “Okay. It’s basically dinnertime, and I’m starving. We need food for this.” She went to the small window that looked out over the street and pushed it up. A cool breeze rushed in, and she glanced over her shoulder at me. “What do you like for a kebab takeaway?”

“Anything, really.”

“Doner kebab, then?”

My stomach grumbled at the mention of the roasted meat. “That’ll do.”

“Coming right up.” She grabbed a little notepad off the table next to the window and scrawled some words onto it. Then she tore it off and picked up a bucket that sat beneath the window. A rope had been tied around the bucket’s handle. She tossed the paper in the bucket, then lowered it out the window. After a few seconds, she wrapped the other end of the rope around a metal gizmo that was attached to the wall. A cleat, I thought it was called, a fixture normally found on docks.

She turned back to me, a proud grin on her face. “Like my system?”

I looked between her and the rope that extended out the window, imagining the bucket swinging over the street. “Genius.”

Her grin widened. “I like to think so. They should notice it soon.” She strode to the small door that led to the kitchen. “Want some wine?”

“Yes.” The word burst from me, sounding a little too desperate.

Mac laughed. “Had a long day?”

“Let’s just say I wanted more than tea when I met you earlier at your pub.” I followed her into the little kitchen and accepted the glass of wine she handed me.